Ever wondered who is the most miserable person in pop? Morrissey, perhaps? Or Thom Yorke? Not really. The dubious accolade - one which only a truly morose, depressed person would receive with glee - is surely taken by a country mile by Malcolm Middleton. The former Arab Strap guitarist is now a solo misery guts who can even make angst kings like Peter Hammill and Leonard Cohen sound cheery. A typical Middleton song is Monday Night Nothing, from 2005. "On Monday night, I'm nobody, on Tuesday night I'm nothing," he sighs. And that's one of the cheerier moments from Into The Woods, which Middleton admits - slightly sheepishly, we presume - is his "happy" album.
The thing is, people like this music, and not just because Middleton is tailoring his words to an audience he imagines "of depressed people who think too much about their mortality and the consequences of their actions to enjoy life fully." What Middleton - and anyone who has even had a cursory listen to Joy Division or the Smiths gloomier moments - will understand, is that there is perversely nothing quite as uplifting or enjoyable as a good wallow in depression. Most of us have been there: a miserable record plays in the middle distance, a Dostoevsky novel may glower silently from the sideboard, the mirror is used to gaze forlornly at spots - and you feel cleansed, purified, even secretly happy. It's fun being miserable - especially when you know everyone else is at it - for example Morrissey's tribe of bedsit gloom. Misery loves company, of course.
Although Glasgow has produced plenty of art with a dark psyche, Middleton's songs are actually very up sounding. Take the words away and they are cheery pop constructions with glorious melodies and even perky beats. Similarly, the man may admit to being "miserable and melancholy" but much of the time his tongue at least edges a millimetre towards his cheek. "I'm only happy when I'm sad," he sings, mischievously. He writes "when gloomy to get out of the gloom" but admits that he likes "to wallow deeper because that makes you laugh at yourself". He also has some wonderful one-liners. If you've never enjoyed the joy of misery, close all the doors, stick on Malcolm Middleton and prepare to experience the glee of pain. And if you are genuinely, incurably miserable, you can surely afford a wry smile at the knowledge that this heavy-smoking, heavy-drinking Glaswegian is a lot more miserable than you. Here are some of my favourite Malcolm moments. You may wish to share your own.
1) We're All Going To Die (2007)
Typically upbeat missive in which Middleton ponders life, existence, the universe and everything and concludes, not unreasonably, that "We're all going to die alone." However, this grim truth is not nearly miserable enough for our anti-hero, who turns his morbidity to what happens thereafter. "What if there's nothing?" he asks, before contemplating his own reputation, post-expiring. "What if I don't become famous posthumously? Maybe my story's no good." Musically, lest anyone head towards the nearest gas oven, this is one of his cheeriest, zippiest tunes. From the merrily titled A Brighter Beat album.
2) Death, Love, Depression, Love, Death (2007)
From the same opus, a ridiculously uplifting, steamrollering track with musical nods to punk and emo, inevitably counterbalanced by lines like "Today is as black as the white Scottish sky." Blimey, he must be so utterly gloom-wracked he's no longer making sense.
3) Crappo The Clown (2002)
Explores new outer limits of pop low self-esteem. Crappo The Clown is the almost embarrassingly self-loathing nickname he gave himself after yet another romantic disaster. "Two people left in my world. One of them's a dick, can you guess who it is?" We know what you're saying, Malcolm.
4) Monday Night Nothing (2005)
Lyrically, a new twist on diary songs like Friday On My Mind by the Easybeats and Friday I'm In Love by the Cure. "On a Monday night I'm nothing on a Tuesday night I'm nobody. On a Wednesday Thursday Friday night I'm sad," confesses the great misery guts. Still, there's always the weekend eh, Malcolm? "Then the weekend comes to haunt me." Oh, P'raps not.
5) Four Cigarettes (2007)
Malcolm is in love. He's thinking about his amour, dreaming of taking on the world and even pondering "a laugh." Then he wakes up and realises it was all a dream, and all there is in his life is failure, and heavy drinking.
6) A Happy Medium (2005)
How Malcolm must have chortled when he came up with that title. "Woke up again today, realised I hate myself, my face is a disease," he moans. Breakfast at the Middletons, anybody?
7) Loneliness Shines (2005)
If ever there was a song designed for wallowing, this is the one. Malcolm ponders a life so miserable that he actually looks forward to visits to Falkirk station because it signifies escape. "My loneliness shines out of my..." he sings. You know you're depressed when spirits can't even be raised by the thought of mischievously singing "arse".
8) Burst Noel (2005)
Christmas at the Middletons, and Malcolm's most blackly funny lyric. Almost a macabre limerick, the song begins by detailing how he "got knives" last Christmas - "Stayed at home and no one missed us." He spent last year on the bathroom floor ("I don't want to ho ho ho no more"), will spend this one crying his eyes out, but pours out his woes to new friend the turkey, who listens to his woes in silent empathy as he carves it into pieces.
9) Ryanair Song (2004)
Malcolm has friends and (gasp) even a girlfriend - unfortunately they're all abroad. Thus, cursed by the air miles in between, the great man ponders buying shares in Ryanair before buying something from Homebase to build, to cheer himself up, before realising he's even more depressed and wants "to be killed."
10) Superhero Songwriters (2007)
Another of Malcy's favourite subjects is telling himself that he is rubbish at his job. In this comically bleak eruption of unadulterated hari-kari, Malcolm compares himself unfavourably to Frank Sinatra. "Maybe I should stick to writing wills," he moans. Ironically, it's one of his most wonderful compositions, which Frank would have probably loved. Cheer up, you'll always be a superhero to us, Malcolm.
