Spent a few days visiting children and grandchildren over the Bank Holiday weekend and celebrating Mrs H’s birthday. And suddenly it seems that summer is over, not perhaps physically but in my head. I’m not bound by school terms and the like so much these days, but the week between the Bank Holiday Monday and the start of the End of the Road festival always seems to bring a melancholy and reflectiveness.
Have we wasted our summer, or created lasting memories? Is it time to order logs and get the chimney swept? The leaves on the trees appear suddenly brown, and there are apples everywhere. I must confess I’m a sucker for a slightly self-indulgent, plaintive song, and the change from summer to autumn certainly plays up to my tastes. Suddenly, Nick Drake is back on the turntable, and the joyous thrash of “Everyone Knows This Is Nowhere” is replaced by “After The Gold Rush” or “On The Beach”. But these things are to be handled with care. If you’re always playing songs of this persuasion, the argument that you’re a self-obsessed miserablist can be accurately deployed, so I am always on my guard. However, the pull of the sweet melancholy is strong. It’s a bit like the secret lemonade drinker of R. Whites fame (written and sung by Elvis Costello’s Dad, I believe; see clip for reference). Occasionally, I find myself sneaking out to the shed in the dead of night to play some Ackles or Young, Drake or Denny. Forgive me.
So indulge me just for one week. Here’s some Nick Drake and a new voice I’ve just come across Mia Wilson – both beautifully pastoral and wistful. And the radio show is varied (Grand Drive, Ryan Baine, Songs: Ohia, Kris Delmhorst, and much more) and not at all self-indulgent, although there are some slight technical issues as my voice seemed to get lost in the mix quite a bit – a blessing, you all cry! As ever…
