In 1933, as the world trembled beneath the weight of the Great Depression and the rise of fascism, a mournful melody emerged from the heart of Budapest, Hungary. Written by composer Rezső Seress and later paired with lyrics by poet László Jávor, the song was titled simply:
“Szomorú Vasárnap”—Gloomy Sunday.
It was meant to capture the soul’s anguish, a lamentation of lost love and existential sorrow. But what began as a sorrowful ballad soon took on a far darker reputation. Over the decades, “Gloomy Sunday” has been linked—rightly or wrongly—to a wave of suicides across Hungary, Europe, and even America.
So deeply has this association taken root that the song became known as the “Hungarian Suicide Song,” inspiring bans, haunting urban legends, and a legacy cloaked in dread. But is there any truth to the terror surrounding it? Or is it simply a sad song scapegoated by tragic coincidence?
The Origins: Music Born in Despair
Rezső Seress, a struggling composer, wrote “Gloomy Sunday” during a time of personal and political turmoil. The melody is dark, funereal—almost hypnotic in its sorrow. Originally intended as a despairing reflection on the world’s decay, the version most widely circulated today features László Jávor’s haunting lyrics, which tell the story of a grieving lover contemplating death to be reunited with his beloved.
Translated, the lyrics are raw and bleak:
“Gloomy Sunday with shadows I spend it all
My heart and I have decided to end it all…”
Even before it left Hungary, the song was raising eyebrows for being too morbid, too heavy. But it was when it crossed borders that the legend truly began.
The Suicide Connection: Fact or Folklore?
Shortly after “Gloomy Sunday” was released, a wave of suicides was reported across Hungary. Newspapers began noting a disturbing pattern—victims were found with the sheet music nearby, or had reportedly sung or played the song before taking their lives.
One man reportedly shot himself after requesting it at a café.
Another woman was said to have drowned herself with the lyrics in her pocket.
Still another jumped from a window with a phonograph playing the tune on repeat.
In total, at least 19 suicides were linked to the song by the press—though many believe the number is exaggerated, and few cases were ever conclusively proven to be connected.
Regardless, the myth grew. And when Billie Holiday recorded her version in 1941, the legend followed the song across the Atlantic.
Billie Holiday and the BBC Ban
Holiday’s version—smoky, slow, and soaked in jazz melancholy—introduced “Gloomy Sunday” to a new generation. While it became beloved in jazz circles, its association with suicide persisted.
In Britain, the song was banned from BBC radio for decades—not because it was explicit or vulgar, but because it was deemed too emotionally disturbing for public airplay. DJs could play instrumental versions, but the lyrics were forbidden.
Even as the BBC ban was lifted decades later, the stigma remained. Few songs have ever carried such an ominous aura.
The Tragic Irony: Seress and Jávor’s Fates
The most chilling detail of all may be the fate of Rezső Seress himself.
Despite his musical success, he remained a tortured soul. His relationships faltered. His spirit darkened. In 1968, he died by suicide, reportedly by jumping from a window in Budapest—in eerily similar fashion to the victims associated with his own song.
László Jávor, the lyricist, also died alone and in obscurity.
The creators of the song were ultimately swallowed by the sorrow they had immortalized.
Scientific Truth vs. Urban Legend
Despite the dramatic stories, no scientific evidence has ever linked “Gloomy Sunday” to a rise in suicides. Psychologists argue that the song’s emotional intensity might resonate with people already in distress, but it’s unlikely to cause suicidal behavior.
Still, correlation—or the illusion of it—has power. “Gloomy Sunday” became an easy scapegoat for a society unwilling to confront mental health issues, especially during times of war, poverty, and despair.
The song’s dark mystique persists because it speaks to something primal in us—the recognition of grief, the ache of loneliness, the longing for peace beyond this world.
Haunting Legacy
Over the years, “Gloomy Sunday” has been covered by countless artists, from Sarah McLachlan to Sinéad O’Connor, and featured in films, television, and literature. Yet it still carries an unease. People hesitate to play it alone. Some musicians refuse to cover it. Even today, stories circulate of people feeling overcome with sadness after hearing it.
The line between myth and meaning remains blurred.
Conclusion: The Song That Echoes Too Deeply
“Gloomy Sunday” is not cursed. It’s not a weapon. But it is one of the most emotionally potent songs ever written—a rare composition that doesn’t shy away from despair, but wades into it, slowly, deliberately, beautifully.
It speaks to a world that often feels broken, and to hearts that sometimes struggle to carry on. Perhaps that’s why it unsettles us.
Because it doesn’t offer escape. It simply mirrors the weight we already carry.
And maybe, just maybe, some songs are haunted—not by ghosts, but by truth.
A truth too heavy for many to hold.
A truth called “Gloomy Sunday.”