"Twenty One", by The Apartments.
"No Song No Spell No Madrigal" was launched into the world without fanfare in early 2015. Its absence from practically all year-end lists was striking. But for those who fell under the spell of Peter Milton Walsh at some point over the past, what is it now, 35 years, it will have been the only record of the year that really mattered.
"Twenty One" is a song born out of grief. The finely balanced melancholy of "Things You'll Keep" has been, of necessity, replaced by abject sadness. (The story behind it can be found here.) And yet it is also extraordinarily beautiful. There are days when I almost can't bear to listen to it, but at the same time I cannot look away. We should be grateful that Milton Walsh had the courage to write and record it, and to expose it to the public gaze.
I also can't help thinking how hard it would be, right now, for Nick Cave to listen to this song.