Best Music My Ex Gave Me
From the half-forgotten smell of a favorite sweater to the overanalysis of an unexpected Instagram like, our exes haunt us in many ways — but none more intensely than the songs they left us.
Written by Afterglow Editorial Staff
GIF courtesy of GIPHY
Break-ups don’t make good gift givers; you’re often left with nothing but tears, heartbreak, and confusion (and perhaps if you’re lucky, the ever-elusive closure). But, whether you like it or not, your exes also have a tendency to infiltrate your earbuds through the music you once shared together. Music evokes some of the most powerful memories, so join us this Valentine’s Day as we press play to the soundtrack of relationships past.
“I Will Always” - The Cranberries
Ah, first loves. They really do stay with us forever. That’s particularly unfortunate in my case, because my first love was, is, and always will be, a sh-thead. Even still, I wouldn’t call our relationship a complete failure. He was super, super condescending and pretentious, but his Spotify playlists did occasionally make some points. One of those points was “I Will Always” by The Cranberries, a song which, much like my ex, is lethargic, aimless, and a bit of a buzzkill. But I guess I’m kind of into that. — Nick Gonzales
“Inside Out” - Spoon
I became close with my ex during the time when I first fell headlong into music. It drew us together: mixtapes made with cardboard sleeves covered in doodled stars, the crackling of vinyl in his bedroom corner, our routine of alternating who picked the song as we drove at night. The Smiths? Him. First Aid Kit? Me.
Our not-quite-relationship saw its peak one winter, set to the dreamlike trance of Spoon’s “Inside Out.” Infused with psychedelic flavor, frontman Britt Daniels sings of a lover that pulls him in so completely that they alter his perception of time. Accompanied by a tight drum beat and stirring keys, the synths fade in and out like waves, mimicking the cyclical nature of time considered in the lyrics: “time gets distorted when / there’s intense gravity.”
In the wintertime, “Inside Out” always seems to find its way back onto my playlists. There’s still a visceral twist in my gut when I hear the familiar synth swells and Daniels’ falsetto. But, just as he sings, time keeps going on, and my memories of the song have too. “Inside Out” contains my ex — and always will — but it also contains the new awareness and growth I found in myself after the relationship ended. Each year of listening brings a time of self-reflection as my anger and hurt first softened into understanding, then forgiveness. — Annie Lyons
“Sleep on the Floor” - The Lumineers
“Sleep on the Floor” by The Lumineers is a beautiful song. If you haven’t heard it, do yourself a favor and listen, and check out their entire album Cleopatra while you’re at it. Listen to it for me, because every single time I do, my brain decides to make me relive my breakup with my ex. What used to be a song that celebrated our mutual desire to run away from everything together is now tarnished by the text I had to send her when I realized she was completely ignoring my texts and calls. So please, enjoy the band’s dulcet tones and lyrical prose, because I know I can’t anymore. — Minnah Zaheer
Gif courtesy of GIPHY
“DI MI NOMBRE” - Rosalía
I had my first real relationship while studying abroad in Madrid. (Cliché? Perhaps, or maybe you’re just jealous I was living “The Lizzie McGuire Movie” while you were hunting for BOGO deals at Cabo Bob’s.) He didn’t actually introduce me to Rosalía, but our mutual admiration for her music has provided a staple conversation topic since our breakup. When she released her album El Mal Querer last fall, he told me his favorite song was “DI MI NOMBRE.” He has good taste. The song mixes the palmas characteristic of traditional flamenco with autotuned vocals that sound straight out of Astroworld. But if you have an ear for castellano, you can hear the true beauty burst forth from the lyrics: Haz que lo malo sea bueno, / Impuro lo bendecido, or, “Make the bad be good, / The impure, blessed.”
Even before my ex and I started fawning over Rosalía, her music pulled me back to Madrid and — by extension — back to him. Everything from that spring abroad bleeds together in my mind: the city I explored, the language I spoke, and the boy I shared that time with. Now, I cannot separate him from Spain in my mind, and listening to his favorite song (a flamenco pop banger, nonetheless) has and will always flood me with memories of both. — Dallas Killeen
“Thumbs” - Sabrina Carpenter
Nothing is more romantic than making a playlist of carefully curated songs for your significant other. Unfortunately, in my last relationship, I never got that, as my ex’s musical depth extended only as far as the Spotify “Happy Hits” playlist. Seriously, he didn’t know that Paul McCartney was a Beatle or who Queen was. One of the songs from “Happy Hits” that I remember the most was “Thumbs” by Sabrina Carpenter, of Disney Channel’s “Girl Meets World.” So, yeah, not even the good Disney.
The song, however, is undoubtedly a bop and as much as I hate to admit it, I still find myself listening to it sometimes even though the relationship is long over. Carpenter’s low, rich vocals mesh perfectly with the synth pop background, and the lyrics are equally powerful, with Carpenter vocalizing what she’s learned about “the way of the world.” I suppose, for my ex, powerful, independent women are easier to listen to when they’re accompanied by a dance beat. — Delaney Davis
Gif courtesy of GIPHY
“Pillow Talking” - Lil Dicky
Lil Dicky is not an artist that would normally fit into my music taste, but during the time I first heard “Pillow Talking,” I was diving into a new world of firsts. My ex showed the song to me when we were parked outside my house post-couple’s gym sesh in his classic rich white guy flex of a Ford F150. He began with an introduction to its concept and then told me I couldn’t talk for the entire duration of it because I had to “really take it in.”
The song narrates a conversation that takes place in those awkward post-hookup moments, made climatically worse because the two people just can’t find a common ground in their conversation and discover they don’t fit together, a feeling quite appropriate to many aspects of my last relationship. To this day, I stand by his belief that you absolutely have to listen to the whole thing with your full undivided attention. Whenever I hear the phrase “pillow talking,” I think not of Zayn, but of my ex looking at me expectantly while I experienced the Lil Dicky’s almost 11 minute masterpiece for the very first time. — Catalina Pozos
“Dance Yrself Clean” - LCD Soundsystem
For my ex-who-wasn’t-really-my-ex, Pitchfork was God. If an album wasn’t rated at least an 8.0 by the music publication, it wasn’t good enough for him. The obsession was so strong that he would hold off on his own opinions about a new release until Pitchfork validated his ego. And if their review didn’t agree with his initial thoughts, he’d magically change his opinion. We love a man with a spine!
The entirety of his music library was derived from the publication’s affirmation. Then, from that selection, he would primarily choose songs by male artists (often with weird God complexes) to fill his “deep” playlists — truly, pretentiousness at its prime. At some point, everything started to sound the same.
However, I will admit that he had it right with his love for LCD Soundsystem. Lead singer James Murphy’s oddly satisfying production and emotionally-driven hooks will always get the best of me — and at least I can “dance myself clean” of that relationship’s memory whenever Murphy comes on shuffle. — Zoe Judilla
“Bop Bop” - Mean Lady
At the peak of our relationship, my ex and I fell in love with a sad, indie breakup ballad. In “Bop Bop,” Mean Lady frontwoman Katie Dill vocalizes the final stages of grieving a lost love, but she refuses to call herself lonely. She sang of a heartbreak we had yet to reach, but something about the words “I’m on my own” felt distinctly adult, and we needed that. We performed adulthood with “Bop Bop” as our soundtrack, playing it constantly as we drove through our hometown. It was a song we gave to each other.
Belting out the chorus in his car and playing my air-piano for everyone on the highway to see made me feel alive for one short second at a time. I used to have an insecurity that I was too uptight, and I’d looked to my ex in those moments to learn how to loosen up. But when I finally looked away, the second I pushed him out for good, I found all of that freedom within myself.
I don’t believe in losing music to your exes. I’ve buried the relationship, but the art associated is mine to keep. And why wouldn’t it be? I don’t need anyone to sing with me. I’m an adult, and as the song calls out: I’m on my own. — Selome Hailu