I’ve just always loved this piece of music. And since it’s my birthday, it only seems right to make it today’s song of the day!
I’ve just always loved this piece of music. And since it’s my birthday, it only seems right to make it today’s song of the day!

You ever notice how “Paint It Black” doesn’t really start so much as it unfolds—that strange sitar riff creeping in like a bad dream you can’t quite shake? The Stones captured something that feels less like heartbreak and more like a total emotional blackout. The sound is restless, paranoid even, like someone pacing around inside their own thoughts at 3 a.m. That’s what makes it such a sharp symbol of depression: it’s not just sadness, it’s this all-consuming fog where color, joy, and even meaning itself disappear.
The thing that always strikes me is how the song turns that private darkness into a worldview. The singer doesn’t only feel grief—he wants the whole world to match how he feels inside. That line between self and everything else completely breaks down. You can hear it in the drumming, that pounding rhythm chasing itself in circles, or the sitar’s looping melody that never resolves. It’s like he’s trapped in motion, unable to stop thinking or feeling, stuck in a spiral that makes sense only to him. It’s haunting because it sounds familiar to anyone who’s been that low.
And that’s why, even decades later, “Paint It Black” still feels so alive—so uncomfortably modern. Underneath the 60s cool, it taps into that quiet nihilism a lot of people still wrestle with today: the idea that maybe there’s nothing left worth looking at, so you might as well black it all out. But there’s something cathartic in that honesty. The song doesn’t try to fix anything or offer redemption; it just sits in the darkness. And sometimes, that’s what makes it hit harder than any happy ending could.
Paint It Black
I see a red door
And I want it painted black
No colors anymore
I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by
Dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head
Until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars
And they’re all painted black
With flowers and my love
Both never to come back
I’ve seen people turn their heads
And quickly look away
Like a newborn baby
It just happens everyday
I look inside myself
And see my heart is black
I see my red door
I must have it painted black
Maybe then, I’ll fade away
And not have to face the facts
It’s not easy facing up
When your whole world is black
No more will my green sea
Go turn a deeper blue
I could not foresee this thing
Happening to you
If I look hard enough
Into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me
Before the morning comes
I see a red door
And I want it painted black
No colors anymore
I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by
Dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head
Until my darkness goes
I wanna see it painted
Painted black
Black as night
Black as coal
I wanna see the sun
Blotted out from the sky
I wanna see it painted, painted, painted
Painted black, yeah
There’s always been something very annoying about the cult surrounding Che Guevara. Because his face looked good on a poster and his execution was probably carried out by the CIA, a lot of people have deified a shallow-minded rich kid whose main accomplishment was executing several of his fellow countrymen and then totally failing in his attempts to overthrow the government of Bolivia.
Thankfully, there’s a song that tells the truth. From Ola Fresca, here is El Chacal.
Here’s David Bowie with Changes!
Still don’t know what I was waiting for
And my time was running wild, a million dead-end streets and
Every time I thought I’d got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
So I turned myself to face me
But I’ve never caught a glimpse
Of how the others must see the faker
I’m much too fast to take that test
Ch-ch-changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-changes
(Don’t want to be a richer man)
Ch-ch-changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-changes
(Just gonna have to be a different man)
Time may change me
But I can’t trace time
I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream of warm impermanence and
So the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They’re quite aware of what they’re going through
Ch-ch-changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-changes
(Don’t tell them to grow up and out of it)
Ch-ch-changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-changes
(Where’s your shame, you’ve left us up to our necks in it)
Time may change me
But you can’t trace time
Strange fascination, fascinating me
Ah changes are taking the pace I’m going through
Ch-ch-changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-changes
(Oh, look out you rock ‘n rollers)
Ch-ch-changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-changes
(Pretty soon now you’re gonna get older)
Time may change me
But I can’t trace time
I said that time may change me
But I can’t trace time
Songwriters: David Bowie
Let’s start of November with Tina Arena’s cover of To Sir, With Love. This is one of those cases where the cover version is actually superior to the original version.
From 1993’s The Nightmare Before Christmas, here’s the anthem of the season!
Today’s horror song of the day comes from the 1979 film, Beyond The Darkness.
This film’s soundtrack, courtesy of Goblin, was so acclaimed that it later turned up in several other Italian horror film, usually without anyone bothering to clear it with Goblin ahead of time.
You knew this was coming!
Today’s horror song of the day is the classic main theme to Dario Argento’s Suspiria! (The Argento version is the only version that matters.) The iconic soundtrack was composed by Goblin. I saw an interview with Claudio Simonetti in which he said he wanted the song to be “almost annoying” in its intensity. While I could never be annoyed this song, I do understand Simonetti’s point. The score is designed to be as overwhelming as the evil at the center of the film.
All together now: “WITCH!”
Dario Argento not only produced and edited the European cut for 1978’s Dawn of the Dead, he also introduced George Romero to Goblin. The Italian band, famous for their horror movie soundtracks, provided the classic score to Dawn of the Dead.
(Admittedly, the score is is used far more prominently in Argento’s cut of the film than in Romero’s.)
For today’s horror song of the day, here is Goblin’s Main Theme From Dawn of the Dead.