It’s a shame that my new music weekly column has to start in an avenue of mourning at the sudden loss of Chris Cornell, of Soundgarden, Audioslave and James Bond theme tune fame. The discovery of his body in a Detroit hotel room post-show, was a stark reminder that mental health deterioration isn’t unique to the poor, ugly, insolvent and despondent, but equally prey on the wealthy, charming, good-looking and talented.

I’ll side-step and not turn this into a survival guide for depression, however I will go as far as to say: damn you prescription medication. It’s a horrible modern method of mood mitigation and management, which often has fatal consequence for your grasp of reality and feeling. You’ll be sorely missed Chris, we are running out of front men in the same way Teresa May is running out of attendees at her public appearance.

In memory of Chris here are my top five favourites of his artistic outputs:

This column will twist and turn slightly directionless, like an alpine road, yet I will attempt to grit the surface by returning to recurrent topics such as my favourite act on Jools Holland each week, amongst other acts.

So, this week, an 18-year old from Streatham called “Dave” appeared on Jools and delivered a 5-minute lyrical journey into his articulate consciousness, possessed by a young man starved of opportunity, but thirsty for growth and learning. His style touched on great wordsmiths before him – clear, direct, considered enough to draw you in whilst making you stay with him and work for the story becoming an active passenger on his journey. This was closer to spoken-word then the trappings of current hip-hop shapeshifting identity, but if Kendrick was in the audience he would have surely approved and even bust into a verse without prompt or permission just to add to the richness of the lyrics on display.

Check out Dave below:

So, I’ve probably reached my necessary word limit for this week, but I’ll leave you with this offering from Berlin-come Manchester act Fith – an ode to the creepiness than exists just below the surface of the everyday:

 See you next Thursday, fashionistas