Music in television used to be background noise. Then Six Feet Under happened. If you’ve ever sat through those blindingly white end credits, staring at the screen while a lone cello or a frantic indie rock track played out the silence of a death, you know exactly what I’m talking about. The six feet under soundtrack isn't just a collection of songs; it’s a psychological map of the early 2000s.
Thomas Newman. That’s the name you have to start with. He’s the guy who wrote the theme song. You know the one—the oboe, the pizzicato strings, the feeling of a morgue that somehow feels like home. It won two Grammys. It set the tone for a show that was obsessed with the mundane reality of the macabre. But the show's musical soul went way deeper than just a catchy, quirky title theme. It was about how music fills the spaces where dialogue fails, especially when people are grieving.
The Curation of Grief
Gary Calamar and Thomas Golubic were the music supervisors. They had an impossible job. They had to find songs that fit the Fisher family—a group of people so repressed they could barely speak to each other. Music became their internal monologue.
Remember the pilot? Probably not every detail, but you remember "Waiting" by The Devlins. It played as Nate Fisher ran through the airport, oblivious to the fact that his father’s hearse was about to be T-boned by a bus. That’s the brilliance of the six feet under soundtrack. It used music to underscore the irony of life. One minute you’re listening to a pop song, the next you’re dead.
The show didn't lean on Top 40 hits. It leaned on the obscure, the haunting, and the deeply emotional. We're talking about artists like PJ Harvey, Radiohead, and Death Cab for Cutie before they were household names for every indie kid in America. They used music as a character. When Claire Fisher is high on blue crystal in the basement, the music isn't just "trippy"—it’s claustrophobic. It feels like her life.
Beyond the Theme Song
People talk about the soundtracks—there were two main ones released, Six Feet Under (2002) and Six Feet Under, Vol. 2: Everything Ends (2005). But the official albums only scratch the surface.
The first soundtrack was a bit of a mixed bag, honestly. You had Lamb’s "Transfusion" and The Polyphonic Spree’s "Light & Day." It felt like a snapshot of 2002. But the second album? That one was a masterpiece. It felt more curated, more intentional. It captured the show’s descent into the darker, more existential territory of the later seasons.
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Sia and the Ending That Changed Everything
We have to talk about "Breathe Me."
If you haven't seen the series finale, stop reading. Seriously. Go watch it.
The use of Sia’s "Breathe Me" in the final six minutes of the series is widely considered the greatest use of music in television history. Period. It’s not up for debate. Before that episode aired in 2005, Sia was a relatively underground Australian artist. After that finale? She became a global superstar.
The song starts as Claire drives away from the Fisher house in her hybrid. The piano notes are sparse. Then the montage begins. We see how everyone dies. We see the future. We see the cycle of life and death that the show spent five years deconstructing. The music swells, Sia’s voice cracks with this desperate vulnerability, and by the time the screen fades to white, most viewers are a puddle of tears.
It was a risky move. Usually, shows end with a whimper or a cliffhanger. Six Feet Under ended with a definitive, musical period. It used the six feet under soundtrack to provide a sense of closure that felt earned. It wasn't manipulative; it was honest.
Why It Hits Different Now
Listening to these tracks in 2026 feels like opening a time capsule. We live in an era of "playlist" television where every show tries to have a viral music moment. Stranger Things did it with Kate Bush. Saltburn did it with Sophie Ellis-Bextor. But Six Feet Under did it first, and they did it with more nuance.
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They didn't just pick "cool" songs. They picked songs that hurt.
Take "Lucky" by Radiohead. Or "Direction" by Interpol. These tracks weren't just background; they were reflections of the characters' mental states. When David Fisher was spiraling after his kidnapping (one of the most harrowing hours of TV ever made), the silence was just as important as the noise. The music supervisors understood that sometimes the most powerful soundtrack is the absence of one.
The "Everything Ends" Philosophy
The subtitle of the second soundtrack album was Everything Ends. It’s a bleak sentiment, but the music argued otherwise. The music suggested that while bodies fail, the emotional resonance of a life—or a song—lingers.
I’ve spent hours digging through old forums and tracklists. There are some deep cuts that never made the official CDs but defined the show’s vibe.
- The Thrills: "Santa Cruz (You're Not That Far)"
- Nina Simone: "Feelin' Good" (used in a way that felt both triumphant and terrifying)
- Arcade Fire: "Cold Wind"
The show was also weirdly good at using opera and classical music. It wasn't just "high-brow" for the sake of it. It used those sweeping, dramatic scores to contrast with the disgusting reality of embalming fluids and reconstructive putty.
The Physicality of the Music
If you’re a collector, finding the original vinyl or even the CDs is getting harder. The 2002 release had this cool, translucent cover art that mimicked the show's aesthetic. It felt like an artifact. In a world of streaming, there’s something lost when you don't have the liner notes that explain why a certain song was chosen for a certain death.
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Honestly, the six feet under soundtrack taught a whole generation how to listen to music through a cinematic lens. It taught us that a song could be a funeral oration.
How to Experience the Soundtrack Today
You can’t just put it on shuffle. That’s a mistake. If you want to actually "get" the impact, you have to listen to it in the context of the narrative arcs.
Start with the Thomas Newman theme. Listen to the way it uses the oboe—it’s a "lonely" instrument. It mimics the isolation of the Fisher family members living under the same roof. Then, move into the more aggressive indie tracks of the middle seasons. Finally, end with the Sia track. It’s a journey.
Don't ignore the "inspired by" tracks either. There were songs used in promos—like "Calling All Angels" by Train (a bit cheesy, sure, but it worked at the time)—that became synonymous with the show's marketing.
Actionable Steps for the True Fan
If you're looking to dive back into the world of the Fishers through your ears, skip the generic "Best of SFU" playlists on Spotify for a second and do this instead:
- Track Down the "Everything Ends" Booklet: If you can find a physical copy or a high-res scan, read the notes by Alan Ball (the creator). He explains the philosophy of "dying out loud."
- Listen to the "Breathe Me" Remixes: While the original is king, the Mylo remix and others that floated around in the mid-2000s show how the song took on a life of its own in the club scene—a weirdly appropriate parallel to the show’s obsession with the "afterlife" of things.
- Cross-Reference the Death Scenes: Use a site like Tunefind to look up the specific song played during the "Death of the Week" in your favorite episodes. Often, the lyrics are a direct, dark commentary on how that specific person died.
- Analyze the Silence: Watch the episode "Static" (Season 5, Episode 11) and pay attention to where the music stops. It’s a masterclass in tension.
The six feet under soundtrack remains a benchmark because it wasn't afraid to be ugly. It wasn't afraid of the quiet. It treated pop music with the same reverence as a requiem mass. In 2026, when so much media feels disposable, these songs still carry the weight of the dirt they were named after.