Some descriptions make no sense on paper.
Take Robert Smith of The Cure. Indeed, keen students of his lyrics may conclude the man has himself spent serious time in a sanitorium. Possibly the crispest Cure album ever, it is, much like Wish, a melange of familiar Smithisms held together by an unbelievably uplifting mood. And yet this album was very nearly a non-starter. I'd present him with something, and he'd play what he felt like.