… but has there ever been a poem titled „campfire poem“, or a collection of „campfire poems“? This is not for googling, this is for thinking. Imagine a book of poems called „Campfire Poems for November“ – wouldn‘t be big deal. There is no replacement for fire in cold and rotten woods. The title is on the verge to kitsch, suggesting sort of a heating system for the soul. Even worse, a singer/singwriter coming up with that title. Of course there are masters of campfire songs, and no. 1 on my list is „Will To Love“ from Neil Young. One of my twenty favourite albums of 2017 comes from 1976, Neil Young‘s home studio recording „Hitchhiker“, raw, vulnerable, first versions. On that night in California, I‘d like to have been Dean Stockwell, the actor, aside from David Briggs at his favourite mixing console, the only witness. Neil Young was in a special mood, drinks, weed, a broken heart, everyone knows something like that. If you listen carefully, during a small passage, Briggs puts some reverb on the voice, making it sound even more ethereal. I see wooden furniture in the surroundings, an old record player, a Judy Collins album on the turntable, silent of course, collecting dust, not even one, two candles burning in the front room. The electric light has been turned down low, thatˋs enough.