I like to say that it all started with a girl, but that’s not precisely accurate. Yes, there was a Robyn Hitchcock fan who won my susceptible little heart during my freshman year of college, and she professed her affection for the man in an open and charming fashion. She had first encountered him in Greece, where he played a show before a largely indifferent audience. She was enchanted by his socks.

Robyn Hitchcock was one of those names that I knew before finding my way to the college radio station, one of those odd, enticing monikers that promised a whole other history of music that was hidden from me. The spring and summer before I arrived at college, Hitchcock had a minor hit with “Balloon Man.” It got some play on the local radio station that had a streak of bravery, and MTV even gave it some attention, probably intrigued by the novelty of it at a time when they were routinely turning over little chunks of their commercial breaks to Mojo Nixon. I had a list of artists in my head that I felt compelled to seek out when I got the opportunity to explore the sonic wonderland of the 90FM record stacks, and Robyn Hitchcock was high on that list.

In my second semester, Hitchcock released his second album for A&M, Queen Elvis. It was the perfect collection of songs at the perfect time, completely cementing my dedication. Shift after shift, I found that copy of Queen Elvis wherever it resided in the station’s rotation, and played a track off it, alternating between the ten offbeat pop gems with resolute fairness. I was simultaneously discovering and announcing myself through these songs. They were romantic and strange and bright and cynical, and I guess I was all those things too. As our favorite music often does, it spoke to me in tricky, almost conspiratorial ways. The secrets of the universe are in these words and in these notes if you just learn to listen for them. That’s how I felt then. And, happily, that’s how I still feel now.

Robyn Hitchcock ‘n’ the Egyptians, “Swirling”

(Disclaimer: As I discovered last week, Queen Elvis is out of print. The song above is presented here with the understanding that it’s unavailable for purchase in any way that will put money in the hands of Mr. Hitchcock. Even so, if anyone with due authority to do so asks me to remove it from this modest corner of the Web, I will gladly comply.)