Nick Drake was a fine folk guitarist and brilliant song writer who, sadly, chose to end his life in his mid twenties. He released only three albums and they are still major sellers today, twenty or more years after his death.
Time has told me you
are a rare, rare find
A troubled cure for
a troubled mind Nick Drake
It
was Steve McKenzie who introduced me to Nick Drake. Not literally, of course.
He'd been dead for more than ten years by the time I first heard
him sing.
It was 1981 and Steve and I shared a posting
in Whitehorse. And a bed. I was 21 and my first male lover. I know that probably surprises you,
maybe even shocks you, but there was a time when Benton Fraser was not
the reserved man you know now.
Steve was ten years my senior and my mentor
in so many ways. I suppose you
could say he was an unremarkable man; not particularly tall, not even
particularly handsome. But he
was a good man and he taught me many things. It was he who showed me first hand how to be a good policeman
and it was from him that I learned many of the skills and habits that
make me who I am today. It might surprise you to learn that
it was from Steve I first learned the phrase 'thank you kindly'.
I learned more from Steve than how to be
a good policeman. Naturally, as
my first male lover, he instructed me in the mechanics of male-to-male
sex, but I learned much more than that.
There were things he taught me in bed and out that enable me to
be the lover that I am now. But
I digress.
Steve was a music lover. I recall many pleasant weekends locked away in Steve's cabin
making love, eating and listening to music the likes of which I had never
heard before. Steve's musical
collection was diverse; simple piano concertos by obscure European composers,
avante garde jazz musicians from third world countries, screaming delta
blues guitarists, simple acoustic guitar music. There was nothing I could name that Steve could not produce
from his vast collection.
The sad and lonely English singer, Nick Drake,
was a favourite of Steve's and he played his music frequently. In the years that have passed since
that time I have often wondered why I never thought the Nick Drake songs
that Steve played to me in his candle lit cabin were 'our songs'. I have decided that it is because,
no matter how pleasant our time together was, we were never in love.
Don't think that Steve was cold to me or
hurt me in any way, because that is simply not true. The year we spent as lovers in Whitehorse was a time of
warmth and affection for both us. It's
just that we were never, ever going to fall in love. When I was finally offered a posting elsewhere, I accepted
without thought of what Steve might think and when I left, he hugged
me and wished me well, then we went our separate ways.
I think about him from time to time and our
paths have even crossed a few times over the years. When my father was killed Steve sent me a lovely letter. I telephoned to thank him and we spoke
for two hours. Now he lives in
Tuktoyaktuk with his lover.
So what does this have to do with Nick Drake?
For the first time tonight I understood a
song that Steve played to me more than fifteen years ago. In the song, Mr Drake sings to someone that they are 'a
troubled cure for a troubled mind'. When
he played it, Steve told me that he hoped one day I would find the cure
for my troubled mind. I didn't
understand what he meant then, but it made me feel sad and a little hopeful,
even though that confused me at the time.
Now, over the distance of fifteen years and
thousands of kilometres, I finally understand what Steve was trying to
tell me, for I have found my troubled cure.
How it had happened I can't really say. All I know is that somehow some deity
or other worldly force knew better than I exactly what I needed and saw
that it was provided. Somehow,
miraculously, I have managed the rest myself. And miraculous it is, of that I have no doubt.
After the Victoria debacle, I managed to
convince myself that love for me was over. So strong was her influence on my troubled mind that I actually
believed I was unworthy. I shunned
closeness of all kinds and any sign of physical affection had me running. Except from Ray Vecchio. I allowed his friendship to become
close because it was safe. I knew
it would never become more than that.
Then Detective Ray Kowalski appeared in my
life.
Ray Kowalski, in his own way, is as troubled
as I. Our love lives have both
taken similar turns. Like me,
he has suffered from a long lasting devotion to one woman. Like me, he is isolated from the rest of the world, alone
in his tiny apartment. But despite
all that, or maybe because of it, we seem to fit. He is the troubled cure for my troubled mind.
Tomorrow I will buy a Nick Drake CD and play
Time Has Told Me for him. Maybe
it will become our song.
Copyright October 2000
Comments welcome at mullum@tig.com.au