Dear Neil (not your real name, I know)
I expect you’ll be lying on your bed when you receive this letter, listening to After the Gold Rush. (Yes, that’s why I chose that pseudonym). The black disc will be spinning on the Goldring G101 deck you mounted on a piece of plywood, supported by four rubber door stops. Music technology will move on in so many ways, but these songs will never sound as good again, even without the hiss, pops and clicks that I know annoy you so much. I can hear you now, singing along, word perfect, and see you thrashing that air guitar. Anyone would think you were happy.
I hesitated before starting this letter – the last thing I want to do is come over all preachy. (I know you won’t like that.) But I know how desperate you’re feeling right now and I want to tell you that there really is a future worth hanging around for. It won’t be long now before the black mist lifts and you walk out into the sunshine. (This is where you tut and mutter under your breath.) Sounds like fantasy, doesn’t it. But it will happen. Trust me, I know. (More tuts and muttering!)
Keep singing along to those morose Neil Young tracks! They’ll help you make it to the other side of the abyss. I’m not going to lie to you. The black mist will return – many times. I’m afraid it’s in your genes. But you’ll make it well into your seventh decade without ever feeling quite this bad again (trust me), and with a bit of luck, well beyond that. I don’t want to overburden you, but when dad dies (in his eighties) it will emerge that, as a young man, he was treated with electro-convulsive therapy (ECT). It’s always been a mystery, hasn’t it, that the only pop song he ever called rubbish was Don McLean’s Vincent. Now it all makes sense. I’d like to be able to tell you that mental health will be regarded as equal in importance to physical health in the future.
But, again, I’m not going to lie. It will be talked about a lot more, especially by politicians, but things won’t change that much. Which brings me to the most important thing I want to say to you: your inner strength and resilience is going to be crucially important to your future wellbeing. And the good news is that you will find the inner resources to get by. I know, it doesn’t feel like that at the moment and you’re finding it hard to take on board what I’m saying. (Not least because you think I’m some kind of weirdo fortune-teller or quack psychoanalyst.)
But you will lose these lonesome blues and when they go you will sail into the sunset on the Cripple Creek Ferry. (Although I’m not sure the captain has much of an idea about where he’s going. Hey, hey! Do any of us?) It’s funny, but writing this letter has helped to crystallise a few blurry thoughts that have been swimming around in my head for a while. It’s also made me realise that my obsession with After the Gold Rush is actually a positive thing (although my neighbours may not agree). Long may you run, Neil. Long may you run. x