"What does it matter?" I ask.
He pontificates about poseurs and trend-followers and is just so generally annoying that I finally cough up.
"Actually, I discovered Nick Drake in the mid-'80s, because of R.E.M. Back then he was like a secret closely kept, and we traded tapes back and forth because the records were so hard to find. When I finally found any on vinyl, I was ecstatic. I remember exactly where I was when I heard that ad. I was about to watch The Daily Show, and I heard 'Pink Moon.' I told my roommate to turn the stereo off, and when I realized that it was coming from the television I was so startled I dropped my dinner plate."
Now my passenger thinks I'm cool. Which is utterly stupid.
"Dude, that makes no sense at all. It's like hating your favorite indie band once they sign to a major label, even if they still make good music. If you like it, you like it."
He starts to disagree, and I say, "Fuck that. All it means is that more people have been touched and moved by Nick Drake now than ever were when he was alive. And that's a very good thing."
I just wish he were here to see it.