Sitting here in the summer midnight, listening to the music of John Martyn, whose work I learned to love the year I turned twenty. He died in 2009. A man who did not find life easy.
And then because I can feel the acute sensitivity, almost raw, in John Martyn, and I know it must have been painful, to cheer myself up I listen to this, which always makes me happy.
And once I’m happy again, I can face listening to this:
Oh heck, Leonard Cohen . . . how has that man managed to cope, strung out like a violin string for life to play all its grief and beauty on . . . "the garbage and the flowers" . . . tell me about it . . . okay I need cheering up again . . .