Al Green’s song, “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart” tickles my musical comfort food sweet spot.

We all have songs that feel just right for whatever we need at the time. Some tunes energize us for the day ahead, get us psyched to exercise, or help take the drudgery out of housework. Others, like “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart” soothe us on those days when we’re feeling the ache of loss.

I learned about musical sweet spots from reading an excellent book, “This Is What It Sounds Like,” by Susan Rogers, a multiplatinum record producer, and OgiOgas, a mathematical neuroscientist. Rogers and Ogas explore the various musical components involved in falling in love with a particular song. We all have our own personal favorites, and mine include rhythm, lyrics and timbre.

Rhythm is the musical component most closely linked to movement. When I hear “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart,” I can’t help but sway to the gentle rhythm. It comforts me like a hug. And I’m not alone. Red Cross volunteers shared copies of “Al Green’s Greatest Hits” to soothe victims of natural disasters.

Lyrics give us words to help identify with a song. As a longtime champion of the underdog, I connect emotionally with songs about all the broken-hearted people of the world.

Usually, I go for the original version of the song because, as a writer, I naturally feel a strong connection with other word nerds. So I’ve surprised even myself by preferring Al Green to the Bee Gees.

Certainly, when the Bee Gees’ song came out in 1971, it wormed its way right into my folk-rock sweet spot. I grooved to the song’s compelling lyrics and gorgeous vocals. “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart” marked Robin Gibb’s return to the band after two years away from it. He provided lead vocals, with his two brothers adding their voices to amplify the message.

Because songwriters purposely leave some questions unanswered, we can bring our own meaning to a song. Many listeners — myself included — made the leap from broken heart to romantic breakup even though the song grew out of the healing of a family rift.

Flash-forward 50 years, and I got hooked on Al Green’s voice via listening to a Sirius XM channel called Soul Town, which plays classic soul and Motown. When I heard his 1972 version of “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart,” it conjured up something deeper than teenage romance. This time, I heard the kind of loss that shatters our very sense of self.

Timbre is the quality of sound, and Al Green’s voice speaks to me like none other. His trademark silky style came as a result of his collaboration with Memphis producer Willie Mitchell. To get a sound different from other soul singers who belted out their voices, Mitchell asked Green to sing softly into a highly sensitive microphone. The end result is so intimate many listeners describe it as sexy.

The ways humans process sound dates back to prehistoric times when we needed to not only escape danger but also find love in the dark. A male voice that can go high signals something extra to women looking for a mate.

Both the Bee Gees and Al Green can make their voices soar into the stratosphere, but, for me, the difference in the arrangements makes the latter version come out ahead.

Green comes from a background in gospel, and the way the background singers echo his voice reflects the Black church’s tradition of call and response. Since he never released the song as a single, I don’t remember hearing it growing up. Listening to the Bee Gees version as an adult, I wish Robin’s two brothers sang softer and held back more instead of chiming in on the verses.

Of course, this comes down to personal preference, a topic Rogers and Ogas explore in depth. The human voice, they say, is the most emotive instrument of all, touching on a highly personal constellation of sweet spots.

Interestingly enough for this grammar geek, “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart” has no question mark in the title. Maybe that’s so no one needs to come up with an answer to such a difficult question. We all need to decide for ourselves what helps us mend. By making the title a statement, rather than a question, maybe we can all use the song to smooth the shards of our broken hearts.

Joan Axelrod-Contrada is a writer who lives in Florence. She writes a column for the Gazette that runs on the second Friday of the month. Reach her at joanaxelrodcontrada@gmail.com.

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