This haunting Judy Garland torch song will absolutely wreck you on New Year’s Eve

New Year’s Eve may sparkle with fireworks and champagne, but for many, its promise of reinvention often only amplifies feelings of loneliness, grief, and the quiet knowledge that a new date fixes, well, nothing. It’s a glittering letdown for many, and a truth gay icon Judy Garland knew all too well.

In 1957, Garland was 35 and no longer considered a movie star. Instead, she was earning her living by recording albums, doing concerts, and making TV appearances. That spring, she dropped her seventh studio album, Alone, and the title wasn’t kidding. It offered eleven gorgeously gloomy ballads and torch songs steeped in heartbreak, isolation, and that special brand of Garland-esque despair.

Arranged by the legendary Gordon Jenkins and recorded at none other than Abbey Road Studios in London, the moody LP marked a sharp left turn from Garland’s usual parade of upbeat show tunes. Instead, she leaned all the way into the blues, delivering haunting standouts like “By Myself,” “Little Girl Blue,” and “I Gotta Right To Sing The Blues,” each one dripping with emotion and late-night-in-the-city atmosphere.

Among the album’s deep tracks was its closer “Happy New Year,” written by Jenkins eight years earlier. It tells the story of a forlorn woman, sitting alone on New Year’s Eve, drinking by herself (naturally!), and watching the snow fall from her window whilst yearning for her ex-lover who recently left her for another woman. Ouch!

How about we take this to the next level?

Subscribe to our newsletter for a refreshing cocktail (or mocktail) of LGBTQ+ entertainment and pop culture, served up with a side of eye-candy.
Subscribe to our Newsletter today

Garland wistfully sings: “The gay ones don their silly paper hats / And blow their stupid little horns / At midnight they will all be singing Auld Lang Syne / But the sad ones sit alone before the fire / And sip a glass of lonely wine…”

From there, the song takes a notably bitter turn…

She snarls, “I wish you a Happy New Year darling / May your new love be bright and fair / I hope she’ll do those special things for you / That I would do if I were there.”

When Alone was released in 1957, it was positively received. Billboard gave it a glowing review:

The selections are a change from the mood, themes, show songs and picture tunes usually associated with Garland. The numbers, which are all built around the feeling of loneliness, haven’t been previously recorded by her. The voice is not as sure as it may once have been, but the warm, dramatic appeal remains. Fans will not be disappointed.

Fans, indeed, were not disappointed.

Alone shot up to No. 2 on Billboard’s “Pop Albums Coming Up Strong” chart, and it remains beloved nearly seven decades later. Many fans consider it a highlight from Garland’s Capitol Records era, which spanned from 1955 to 1964 and marked a significant resurgence in her recording career, capturing some of her most iconic performances and hit singles.

In 2022, music writer Peter Piatkowski looked back on Alone’s legacy 65 years after its release in an article published by Pop Matters. He specifically noted “Happy New Year” as one of the album’s standouts:

A record about loneliness wouldn’t be complete or definitive without the allusion to the holidays, and few holidays seem to castigate single people more than New Year’s Eve. Written by Jenkins, who released it in 1949 with his orchestra, “Happy New Year” is one of the few contemporary tunes Garland recorded for the record. It’s probably the most atypical Judy Garland recording as well because it’s bitter and full of self-pity. It’s a rather bracing listen to hear Garland sniff contemptuously of happy couples donning “stupid paper hats / And blow[ing] their stupid little horns” while she empathizes with the “sad ones” who “sit alone before the fire and sip a glass of lonely wine”. She sings about wishing her errant lover a Happy New Year, but we don’t believe it. After all, her performance is dripping with melancholy and regret as she thinks about “that Happy New Year you were mine.”

“Happy New Year” has only been covered by a handful of other artists over the years, including jazz legend Chris Connor, who slipped a subtly sapphic shimmer into her 1961 rendition, long before she was publicly out, or even allowed to be.

Connor’s sexuality didn’t surface until 2009, when her obituary casually dropped the bombshell that she’d spent nearly 50 years in a committed partnership with her manager, Lori Muscarelle. A quiet reveal for a love story that had been hiding in plain sight.

Sign up for the Queerty newsletter to stay on top of the hottest stories in LGBTQ+ entertainment, politics, and culture.