The ache for someone or somewhere that isn't here. These songs don't resolve it. They give it somewhere to go.
Chosen from 26,755 songs in Chord's library that carry longing. Every description below is written about that specific recording.
No rushing. These stay at the weight you're already at.
Unfinished masterpiece. Buckley's voice hovers over ghostly guitar harmonics, lyrics fragment into abstraction, the silence between notes heavier than the sung lines. Haunting in its incompleteness.
A masterclass in vocal sorrow. Lata and Kishore trade verses over a minimal string arrangement, each phrase stretched to breaking. The silence between notes carries as much weight as the melody.
Gothic rock ballad with Ville Valo's baritone soaring over chiming guitars and dramatic dynamics. A romanticized surrender to darkness that feels like a velvet-draped funeral procession.
The Edge's infinite sustain guitar and Bono's raw vocal delivery transform this live rendition into a slow-burning confession of codependent love, peaking in spiritual exhaustion.
Hushed, spacious plea for connection. Gabriel's intimate vocal floats over minimal piano, subtle textures, and a distant choir. Raw vulnerability dressed in cathedral silence.
An operatic, emotionally overwhelming masterpiece of gothic pop with soaring vocals and driving rhythms that sweeps the listener into a vortex of tragic passion.
These don't leave you where they found you.
Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere centerpiece. Ten minutes of Young's lyrical guitar explorations over a hypnotic Crazy Horse groove, building from folk intimacy to a soaring, feedback-kissed climax that feels like spiritual searching.
Seven-minute opus. Begins with solo piano and Vessel's intimate croon, gradually swallowing the listener in layers of strings, choir, djent riffs, and electronic textures. A spiritual homecoming that feels like drowning in light.
Fairlight CMI textures pulse like a heartbeat. Bush's vocal ascends in register and intensity, negotiating with divinity. Art-pop alchemy that turns metaphysical bargaining into visceral catharsis.
Epic seven-minute narrative driven by Scarlet Rivera's weeping violin and Dylan's most vivid storytelling. A marital dissolution framed as mythic journey, each verse a chapter in a private odyssey.
Likely a 1977 live version (Rust Never Sleeps era). Same epic architecture but rawer, heavier, with Young's guitar more aggressive and the band locked into a darker, more muscular groove.
The definitive Twin Peaks vocal. Cruise's voice floats above a shimmering, reverb-drenched arrangement. Lyrics dissolve into pure feeling, the sound of falling forever.
Familiar footing when everything else is moving.
A hypnotic deep house journey featuring driving hypnotic percussion and haunting, echoing vocal hooks that slowly build intensity.
Stan's tenor at its most lyrical. Cool, floating, each note placed with deliberate grace over a whisper-quiet rhythm section. The sound of a master balladeer turning a standard into a meditation on distance and devotion.
UMI and V's voices intertwine over gentle guitar. A transcontinental lullaby about distance and devotion, minimal production letting the emotional weight of 'wherever you are, I'll be there' land softly.
Taiwanese indie folk. Fingerpicked guitar, soft male-female harmonies, seaside imagery. Warm lo-fi production feels like a voice note from a distant shore. Steady, comforting, no surprises.
UK garage-inflected deep house with Woon's soulful, aching vocals over shuffling 2-step rhythms and warm chords. Late-night, rain-slicked, quietly devastating.
Spiritual roots reggae featuring lush vocal interplay and driving percussion that lifts the spirit while maintaining a heavy, meditative dub groove.
The turn upward, when you're ready for it.
A soaring, emotionally devastating blackgaze epic blending tremolo-picked fury with shimmering, triumphant post-rock crescendos.
A high-energy club house remix that transforms Mary J. Blige's raw vocal anguish into a driving, dancefloor-ready catharsis.
Driving, anthemic electronic with soaring vocals and a powerful, building chorus that feels like an emotional breakthrough.
An epic, soaring live rendition built on Edge's shimmering delay guitar and Bono's cathartic, emotional vocal release.
An epic alternative rock journey that starts introspective and explodes into a soaring, cathartic guitar climax.
Epic rock anthem with wall-of-sound production, poetic lyrics about escape, and a soaring saxophone climax.
Full brightness, nothing held back.
Legendary live version: Freddie turns the song into a call-and-response sermon, extending the vamp into pure communal joy. The band locks into a groove that feels like redemption, closing-set essential.
The band's crowning epic. Nine minutes of shifting movements, singalong hooks, and mythic storytelling. Builds from intimate verses to a galaxy-sized chorus that refuses to let go.
Live Rust version: looser, heavier, with the band locking into a ferocious groove. Neil's vocal more ragged, the solo exploding into feedback ecstasy. A peak-time anthem.
The definitive live version. 60,000 voices singing the chorus back to Gahan, that iconic bassline driving a euphoric communal release, transcendent and sweaty.
Expansive live rendition with soaring audience singalong, extended guitar interplay, and a communal climax that transforms grief into shared transcendence.
Epic disco anthem that transforms from an intimate slow ballad into an explosive peak-hour dancefloor rush.
Chord's playlists move. These start or end here.
Close enough that the same night often holds both.
Chord reads your own library and builds an arc that moves the way you need to move today.
Build a longing playlistThe 30 on this page, drawn from 26,755 in Chord's library that carry longing. They're grouped by what each is for, because the right song for sitting in a feeling is rarely the right song for leaving it.
Every song is read for emotional content: what it carries, how intensely, whether it rises or falls, and what it's useful for. That reading is what these pages are built from, not genre tags or chart position.
Yes, free and with no account needed. Tell Chord how you feel in your own words, and it builds an arc from music you already love: a beginning, a turn, an arrival.