When I was 19 I had a moody, sad-sack boyfriend who would listen to moody, sad-sack music like Bonnie Prince Billy and Tom Waits, none of which I ever got too terribly excited about until he brought home a record loftily titled Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain by the Virginia-bred recovering heroin addict Mark Linkous. The album’s ninth track, “Morning Hollow” (which featured Waits himself on the piano), slides and slumps with doleful strings, a resonant Wurlitzer, and Linkous’ little-boy-lost vocals singing, “She don’t get up when I come into the room/She don’t run through the fields anymore.” The song effectively ingrained a place in my heart for quality downer music – the type of music that’s so poignant and innate, it tears you up and lets you know it comes from a real place. Dreamt For Light Years is a record I’d recommend owning, but in the meantime, some kind soul has thrown “Morning Hollow” up on YouTube, and you can listen to it here.