I started thinking today of a passage in Nick Hornby's novel About a Boy, when Will spends Christmas day with Marcus and Fiona:
Clive gave Fiona a Nick Drake cassette, and though Clive did not know about the hospital business, as far as Will was aware, there still seemed to be something weird about him forcing a possibly suicidal depressive's music on a possibly suicidal depressive.
A few nights ago, Wednesday to be precise, I felt a little down.
So what do I do? I listen to somewhat depressing music, which only brings me down more. Nick Drake's Pink Moon album, to be precise.
I'd be hard-pressed to say exactly why I was feeling down. Maybe it was an e-mail I received from a friend. Turn on the stereo, there's Pink Moon.
It's an album I listen to time and again. I love the album, it's a fantastically stripped-down folk album, Drake strumming on his guitar, his voice and the guitar the only things you hear, the words often heart-rending. One scene in “Make-Believe” was written with Pink Moon on loop in the stereo. (The album, that is, not the title track.)
Drake was never successful in his own lifetime. That's a shame, for a talent such as his.
Music matches the mood, sometimes.