Always nice to have somewhere special to go in bleakest mid-winter. Even better when a trip to the ever so grown up Concert Hall means an opportunity to be warmed by the always summer songs of Nick Drake.
Everyone must know the tragic story of Nick's ever so short life and the sleeping musical legacy he left.
It is a paradox that his tunes always conjure up visions of pastoral Constable Albion whilst his lyrics deal with the effects of depression.
An audience of the mature carrying every copy of The Guardian sold in the city that day, a stage full of instruments that I couldn't name, a reverential expectancy and some of the best musicians were all a-quietly waiting.
Robyn Hitchcock opened the show.He was the only performer who attempted to push his own ego over the songs. In truth this was welcome as he slightly elbowed in the ribs the cathedral awe that the audience were wrapped too snuggly in. Nice shirt too. Go yourself big man, as they say in these parts.

The big performances came from Lisa Hannigan who breathed Tom Waits like life into a stomping 'Black-eye Dog' and from Krystle Warren who truimphed over 'Time has told me'.
The musicians, the venue and the sense of occasion were all magnificent and the audience were appreciative .
The perfomances and arrangements all brought Nick's songs up to date and demonstrated why 36 years after his death his muse is still held in such high regard.

I have a feeling Nick would approve.
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