Hannah on meeting the musician who saved her from teenage purgatory
Mine was quite a lonely childhood, at times. Specifically in the mornings and afternoons when I’d board the school bus, with a heavy heart, dreading the journey ahead. I was pretty good at being invisible – I was a shy, bookish daydreamer – but not quite good enough, and I’d often get picked on by the other kids. Looking back, it was all quite mild, but the names they called me really stung at the time. Weird. Different. Strange. Boring. And that’s how I grew to regard myself; the loner, the outsider, the one who didn’t quite belong.
But one morning in 1989, I was hunched down in my seat, trying to pretend I didn’t exist as usual, when a song came on the bus’s radio. It was bright, sparkling, strange, like an alien had tried to make a pop song without actually having heard one before. Where other songs warbled blandly about love, this one enthused about blue canaries, nightlights, and Jason and the Argonauts; above all, it sounded like the mess in my head set to music.
As I listened, I was struck with a » Continue Reading.