"We had our unhappy moments but they got channelled into the kind of sadness that was necessary for singing a song about going nowhere. So it worked out very well I think"
About this Quote
Unhappy moments don’t vanish in Tina Weymouth’s telling; they get put to work. The verb choice - “channelled” - is the giveaway. This isn’t confessional misery for its own sake, it’s band dynamics and personal friction converted into usable voltage. As a musician talking about writing and performing, she frames sadness less as a wound than as a tool: something you can route into an arrangement, a groove, a vocal line that needs weight behind it.
The phrase “the kind of sadness that was necessary” is quietly ruthless. It implies there are multiple sadnesses, and only one of them is productive - calibrated, almost technical. That’s a very late-70s/early-80s art-rock ethos: emotional material, but edited, stylized, made repeatable on stage night after night without collapsing into melodrama. “Singing a song about going nowhere” sharpens the irony. A song about stasis can still move - can still tour, sell, become a cultural artifact. The “nowhere” becomes an aesthetic, even a brand, and the band’s private tension becomes the engine of public momentum.
Then she undercuts any romantic myth of suffering with a dry punchline: “So it worked out very well I think.” That little “I think” keeps it from sounding triumphant; it’s the tone of someone who’s seen how neatly pain can be repackaged as art and isn’t entirely sure whether that’s healing or just professionalism. The subtext is both pragmatic and darkly funny: dysfunction didn’t destroy the music. It fed it.
The phrase “the kind of sadness that was necessary” is quietly ruthless. It implies there are multiple sadnesses, and only one of them is productive - calibrated, almost technical. That’s a very late-70s/early-80s art-rock ethos: emotional material, but edited, stylized, made repeatable on stage night after night without collapsing into melodrama. “Singing a song about going nowhere” sharpens the irony. A song about stasis can still move - can still tour, sell, become a cultural artifact. The “nowhere” becomes an aesthetic, even a brand, and the band’s private tension becomes the engine of public momentum.
Then she undercuts any romantic myth of suffering with a dry punchline: “So it worked out very well I think.” That little “I think” keeps it from sounding triumphant; it’s the tone of someone who’s seen how neatly pain can be repackaged as art and isn’t entirely sure whether that’s healing or just professionalism. The subtext is both pragmatic and darkly funny: dysfunction didn’t destroy the music. It fed it.
Quote Details
| Topic | Music |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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