Playlist: Songs with screams

Graphic by Remi Foeller

By Nora Onanian

In middle school, I remember a close friend of mine introducing me to some of her favorite bands one day, all of whom, at the very least, flirted with the genre of screamo — Pierce the Veil, Sleeping with Sirens and A Day to Remember, to name a few. While I loved her dearly, I never quite got the appeal. That is, until I found myself in a venue packed with predominantly queer, Gen Z concert goers, all following Phoebe Bridgers’ lead and screaming like our lives depended on it. Although I still wouldn’t call myself a fan of *screamo* per se, that moment at Bridgers’ concert and times like it have caused me to realize that songs with screams — particularly from women or nonbinary artists — affect me in ways that songs with just lyrics alone don’t. 

Screaming, shrieking, grunting, yowling — …whatever you want to call it —  see the artist return to something primal. They are a true embodiment of letting it all out, their rawness conveying a level of vulnerability and passion that language alone can’t possibly express. And ultimately, in a medium that is already filled with such a high level of emotion, I think these expressions of the human voice provide an even more elevated form of catharsis for the artist, as well as listeners who relate to their message.

I encourage you to give the five “songs with screams” that I describe below a listen. And if they speak to you, it might be best to follow Phoebe Bridgers’ advice in “I Know the End” and “Windows down / scream along” to these songs where human emotion turns primal…

(Scroll down for a complete compilation available on Spotify.)

“I Know The End” by Phoebe Bridgers

I Know the End” (referenced twice above) has mixed meanings to Bridgers (she/her/hers), who wrote some of the original lyrics about a breakup and later reworked them to more closely be about the depression she was feeling while touring. While not necessarily universal experiences, Bridgers has a way of making sure the emotions behind the specific anecdotes she references are still transferable to the listener so that ultimately, “I Know the End” might resonate with anyone trying to escape something that’s weighing them down emotionally. But optimists be warned: the song doesn’t quite end in a Florence + the Machine’s “Shake It Off”-esque manner. Bridgers turns apocalyptic and expresses her feelings about this impending state of the world not in words, but rather a 16-second long, wonderfully cathartic scream.

“Ur Mum” by Wet Leg

When I was first introduced to Wet Leg by their debut single “Chaise Longue,” I adored the deadpan vocal delivery style of Rhian Teasdale (she/her/hers). The vocal inflections cuing her emotions may be absent, but it can rather easily be distinguished how Teasdale is feeling when listening to what she’s saying. At some point you realize that no one would say “I went to school and I got the big D” in a genuinely serious tone. So, in the later released track “Ur Mum,” Teasdale is able to set up a jarring contrast when her emotions suddenly come out full-force. Through the lyrics, she overtly disses a former beau. At the bridge, she delivers the line “Ok, I’ve been practicing my longest and loudest scream. Ok, here we go. 1… 2.. 3…” with the calm, collectedness of a flight attendant providing instructional information. And then, in a beautiful contrast to this composure, she uses her voice to convey emotion in its highest expression— guttural, churning screaming.

“Ohio” by King Princess

The rage King Princess (it/its/itself) expresses in its song “Ohio” peaks at various points in the track, but the textbook-definition scream comes briefly in the song’s last 20-or-so-seconds. King Princess sings about the complex emotions it felt when its girlfriend moved to Ohio. While the song starts innocently enough, with King Princess wondering how much its girlfriend thinks about their relationship, the song progresses to King Princess feeling a level of angst about the long distance situation. It sings “Well, come here and I’ll show you what I like about it” in a harsh and raspy tone. King Princess switches back to its signature smooth, warm and soulful vocal style as it expresses being torn, wondering if its misery comes down to its girlfriend or King Princess itself — “Is it me or is it you?,” it repeats. This is the line that the lyrics end on, but the song continues for a punchy, guitar-heavy outro where a small scream is slipped in as a final marker of King Princess’ upset. 

“Real Pain” by Indigo De Souza

I will — with some amount of shame — admit that I made a “Pain” playlist in high school as I recovered from spine surgery and some level of emotional pain as well (another playlist article for another day). None of the other songs on the playlist came as close to encapsulating some of what I was feeling as “Real Pain” by Indigo DeSouza (she/her/hers) does. With rather simple but resonant lyrics, DeSouza is writing from a place of loss and grief. But rather than keeping it as an expression of her personal dealings with pain, she makes a very intentional choice to invite others to feel right alongside her. In the process of making the track, DeSouza sent out a call for people to submit anonymous voice memos of “screams, yells, and anything else.” In the song’s official recording, at the bridge, she repeats the lyric “going” as these voices are layered in. They scream softly at first, but then so loud that DeSouza’s single repetitive lyrics can no longer be heard. DeSouza summarized her intention to “embody a kind of collective experience” in the song’s press release. She went on: “While we live such separate lives, we are connected in the way that we all navigate immense amounts of pain and love and fear in our bodies every day… It's okay to feel things fully and to allow others space to do the same." Through most of the song (including the screams), DeSouza clearly expresses that it feels grating and unbearable to go on. However, she is also able to find compassion for herself amid the pain, as shown by the sweet-sounding last verse and outro that bring it all home.

“Middle of the Road” by The Pretenders

To end, I’m bending the rules of this playlist slightly by expanding the definition of a scream to the feline-inspired yowl that Chrissie Hynde (she/her/hers) lets out in the outro of the Pretenders’ “Middle of the Road.” Sonically, the song has got it all: dynamic drumming, an impressive guitar solo, powerful stretches where the harmonica shines,  and — most of all — this iconic animalistic expression of angst. Chrissie Hynde reflects on time passing, motherhood and fame through her songwriting. These themes (and seemingly an explanation for the cat noise to come) are encapsulated most in the final lyrics: “Don’t harass me, can’t you tell / I’m going home, I’m tired as hell / I’m not the cat I used to be / I got a kid, I’m thirty-three.” Though tired, the yowl she ends with is a clear signal that, especially with the increased stakes of her life circumstances, she is ready to defend herself.

Wrapping up this playlist, I can’t help but return to thinking about the screamo-esque bands my friend introduced me to all those years ago — why do the songs I listed above resonate with me in ways that those other ones didn’t? Is it because I’m not ‘angsty’ enough for their metal tendencies? Or, because I didn’t resonate with the predominantly straight, male lead singers? 

I plugged in “Why do people like screamo music” into my web browser and scanned through some Quora and Reddit users’ answers to this very question. “Intensity,” “forcefulness,” “emotion” jumped off the pages as words people commonly used while describing what they were drawn to… similar enough to what I like about screams in indie, rock and alternative music (or any combination of the three). Slightly dissatisfied, I decided to reach out to my friend, close to ten years after our middle school days. 

Like others had echoed, she said that she resonated a lot with the emotions being displayed through the harsh vocals, especially while she was a teenager dealing with angst and rage. But she also described finding bits of her identity in the lyrics more than just relating to the emotions behind the screams. 

“Many of the lyrics talked about their experiences with mental health and their emotional turmoil dealing with their struggles,” she said. For her, hearing some of these lyrics helped reaffirm that she wasn’t alone in her personal mental health experiences.

With most popular screamo artists being men circa 2014, she didn’t necessarily relate in terms of gender identity to the artists she was listening to and waiting hours to see at Warped Tour. But she described the way that POC (person of color) artists she listened to resonated more than others. “Within some of their songs they would talk about their experiences living in America and having immigrant parents. Being Middle Eastern, I found myself relating greatly to these songs… I saw myself being represented in that part of my life.” 

From our conversation, I realized that the specificities of what my friend and I were looking for in terms of representation were different, as were our sonic preferences; but ultimately, we find the same emotional support from listening to our respective music. 

I found that songs with screams — transcendent of genre — can make you feel seen at a whole new level. When you don’t know the identity of the artist, lyrics are what can help establish a sense of relatability. But lyrics alone only reflect your emotional state so much. It is the screams embedded in these songs that speak to the queer experience, the POC experience, the experience of living in a male-dominated society or any other combination of tailored-to-you experiences, so very strongly. 

Interested in more songs with screams? Here’s 15 more from where these came from…