Not a record that featured on Dave’s list of 100 albums from Dead Man Singing, but one that, in retrospect, was something of a gateway purchase for me, as well as being one that I seriously considered for inclusion in my My 9 albums selection. My first experience of Suzanne Vega was the single Marlene on the Wall, sweeping into the charts (well, their lower reaches, anyway) offering a breath of acoustic fresh air in amongst the highly produced New Romantic commercial days of Duran Duran and the like. I was transfixed, and quickly hooked.

I was in the Sixth form at the time, and while I was already identifying as a rock fan, my taste ran mainly to the more melodic end of the spectrum, rather than the heavy rock or metal that some of my friends preferred. Looking back, this is possibly where folk music got my attention and gained a first foothold in my record collection.

The formula laid down in that lead single – compelling narrative in the lyrics, airily produced acoustic guitars with a tasteful smattering of 80s production (those synths, the luscious bass notes) rather than the kitchen-sink approach that was so common at the time – is there to be found throughout the album. Opening track Cracking is slow and compelling where Marlene on the Wall is more up-tempo, but it’s just as alluring, drawing the listener in and making us complicit (‘We can only say yes now, to the sky, to the street, to the night’).

The folkiest cut on the album is The Queen and the Soldier, a storytelling song which seems like it’s going to be a by-the-numbers ‘war is bad’ ditty, before a final verse that throws the rest of the song into a fresh perspective, adding a certain psychological depth (by the standards of folk-pop songs, at any rate) into one of the eponymous protagonists. If I’d been the kind of teenager who got up and played in folk clubs (rather than sitting in the audience) it’s one that I would probably have wanted to include in my repertoire at the time.

It’s an album I don’t often play (though I still enjoy it when I do) and although I bought her next album, that never grabbed me in the same way and somehow I lost interest in her subsequent work. Nevertheless, it’s arguable that without the effect of Suzanne Vega, I might never had dipped my toe into folkier waters. Would I have reacted so wholeheartedly to Richard Thompson? We’ll never know.