I can’t remember who introduced me to the music of Nick Drake. Was it Tony, to whom I owe my love of Jonathan Richman, Charles Bukowski, the Pogues, and Bushmills, all at once? Was it Theresa, who gave me Sonic Youth? Was it Anne, who gave me the Go-Betweens and Downey Mildew?
Anyway, thanks. For the first time in a while, I’m listening to the Fruit Tree box, which I’ve had since the eighties on vinyl and the nineties on CD. These songs are a perfect compliment to this blustery day… there’s a flock of tiny dinosaurs pecking for bugs in the back yard, the wind is strong, and the sky is a watercolor of gray and white.
His music inspires a certain melancholy, but that’s okay. I miss a lot of people, all of the above included. It’s a pleasant nostalgia, though, and has a tinge of hope… some folks are just an e-mail, a freeway, or a Google away. And me, heck, I’m so easy to find I’ve got a big red pin on the roof of my house.
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