The heaviest one to name. These songs are tender about it, with no judgment anywhere in them.
Chosen from 1,134 songs in Chord's library that carry shame. Every description below is written about that specific recording.
No rushing. These stay at the weight you're already at.
Crushing sludge-doom riffs move at tectonic pace beneath Creston Spiers' howled vocals. Feedback-drenched chords sustain like open wounds, the song collapsing inward rather than resolving. Heavy in every sense.
Raw, lo-fi acoustic confession recorded like a voice memo, Zach Bryan's cracked voice laying bare self-condemnation in a sparse arrangement that feels like eavesdropping on a private breakdown.
070 Shake's voice cracks over a hollowed-out beat, half-sung, half-confessed, as bass pulses like a slowing heart. Minimal production amplifies the weight of every unvarnished admission.
Industrial noise-rock confession: crushing bass, glitching percussion, and Jake Duzsik's vulnerable vocals drowned in reverb. Self-laceration as sonic exorcism.
Raw piano and unfiltered vocal expose the anatomy of self-laceration. Each verse tightens the knot before the chorus releases a scream dressed as prayer.
Tripod's slowest rot: detuned guitars ooze like tar, Staley's voice fractures under self-loathing. The sound of addiction eating its host.
These don't leave you where they found you.
Brutally intimate confession over stark piano. Cain's voice cracks under the weight of religious guilt and sexual shame. No production tricks, just raw exposure. Demands full attention and offers no easy exit.
Nine-minute opus opening with a solitary piano motif, expanding into a maximalist confession of flaws. The distorted coda is a cathartic scream.
A turbulent, dramatic orchestral onslaught by Prokofiev that builds from uneasy quiet into a harrowing storm of psychological distress.
Confessional rap with piano-loop foundation, raw vocal delivery, and lyrical vulnerability about fame's toll on relationships.
Minimalist piano and Isley's haunting chorus frame Kendrick's harrowing encounter with divinity in a homeless man.
Heavy, down‑tuned guitars and Jonathan Davis's anguished vocals create a crushing wall of nu‑metal angst.
The turn upward, when you're ready for it.
Glistening '80s-pop arpeggios and propulsive drum machines frame Jean-Philip Grobler's yearning falsetto. The track builds into a euphoric, dancefloor-ready chorus that transmutes shame into kinetic release.
Nahko's warm baritone rides a rolling folk-groove with hand percussion and layered harmonies, turning shame into communal testimony. Chant-like chorus invites singalong release.
A punchy, cheeky pop-rock anthem with a driving beat and P!nk's signature gritty, self-deprecating humor.
Bold R&B with assertive vocals, great for an empowering transition.
Spiky, danceable indie pop with sharp post-punk rhythms and a spoken-sung vocal full of sardonic edge.
Classic Borgore gorestep: squelching mid-range bass, aggressive half-time drums, vocal chops twisted into hooks. Confrontational energy that turns self-loathing into a mosh pit.
Full brightness, nothing held back.
Tight, funky rhythm section locks with jagged guitar interplay and Andy Pickett's soulful guest vocal. White Denim's signature virtuosity keeps it light on its feet. Shame as a groove you dance through, not wallow in.
Upbeat, synth-heavy dance track with a focus on Camila Cabello's vocals.
Baroque indie pop explosion featuring soaring operatic vocals, theatrical piano flourishes, and dramatic emotional catharsis.
Aggressive, high-energy dance track with a focus on driving beats and catchy synths.
Bouncy, trap-inflected pop with satirical lyrics about privilege and desire, driven by a minimal beat and catchy hook. More smirk than sincerity.
DJ Mustard's minimal ratchet bounce. Sparse synth melody, heavy 808s, chantable hook. Cynical lyrics ride a beat engineered for maximum club singalong, frictionless and infectious.
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 shame playlistThe 24 on this page, drawn from 1,134 in Chord's library that carry shame. 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.