His room is quiet now. The bed is neatly made, above it hangs a framed picture of a rough-and-tumble sea storm. His old school desk, complete with coffee stain and pen, is pressed against the far wall. Volumes of Chaucer, Blake, Flaubert and Shakespeare peer down from a corner bookshelf. An old-fashioned radio sits ready and lonesome on his bedside table. His shirts are carefully folded in his dresser, his black sport-coat hangs loosely in his closet. But Nick Drake isn't coming home tonight.
Nick Drake isn't a name you come across in every-day conversations. He never made it to the Billboard Hot 100, nor did he ever have a best-selling album on iTunes. In fact, he never sold more than 5 000 copies of any of his records during his lifetime. You would also consider yourself very lucky of you found any of his lesser-known songs on the interwebs. Despite this, his songs cast an eerie spell on first-time listeners. The haunting melodies and thoughtful lyrics hold you in their grip and never really let go. But this is not why you find yourself wanting more after the last song starts to fade out. The emotional intensity and sincerity of all the components coming together is what teases and bewitches you, and what makes you keep hitting the repeat button.
Drake was an original, a man who dared to throw his hat into the wind. He had a vision of what his songs should be and how he wanted them presented to his audience. And those songs, those few minutes of absolute perfection, are now all that remain to tell the story of his life under his Northern Sky.
Drake was born on June 19, 1948 in Rangoon, Burma, where his father, Rodney Drake, was an engineer sent to work with the Bombay Burmah Trading Company. The family (including Drake's elder sister Gabriella) returned to Warwickshire in 1950, when they moved into Far Leys, a house in the sleepy English hamlet of Tanworth-in-Arden. It was here, in the large, snug house that Drake first displayed his vast talents.
In 1957, Drake attended Eagle House School, a private boarding school in Berkshire. Five years later, he enrolled in Marlborough College, where he excelled at sport, becoming one of the school's top sprinters. Here, Drake also played piano for the school's orchestra and even formed a band with fellow school mates.
After his time at Marlborough College had ended, Drake won a scholarship to study English literature at the University of Cambridge. He delayed attending by spending six months at a university in France, where he began practicing guitar in earnest and spent most of his time busking in the city centres with friends.
During his time at home, Drake would spend many hours, often early in the morning, in an old, orange armchair practicing and recording tapes. These early tapes reveal the desolate themes, such as defeat and heartbreak that would inspire his later work. The songs "Princess of Sand" and "Joey" are romantic odes to lost youth, and so beautiful in simplicity and intent, yet uncommonly sad. If you listen attentively, you can almost hear the makings of a lonely boy caught up in a world he doesn't quite understand, and one that doesn't understand him.
Drake's first album, Five Leaves Left, takes its name from something that seemed to be tongue-in-cheek on his part. Taking its name form a warning sign printed on a carton of cigarettes, the album is an anthem to grand unrealised dreams and desires, as made evident by "Time Has Told Me". It sets the theme of the album by creating a world-weary melody. Another standout from this album is one of Drake's most well-known songs; "River Man" (which happens to be one of my personal favourites) sets the listener adrift on a small boat on some long forgotten river of time.
"Going to see the river man
Going to tell him all I can
About the ban
On feeling free."
Another one of my personal favourites, "Cello Song" produces a rich, sombre atmosphere with the beautiful cello melody echoing in your eardrums long after the song has ended. The song deals with leaving something of great value behind forever. "Cello Song" has risen to great acclaim in the last few years, being featured in the Academy Award nominated film "The Blind Side".
"You sail to the skies
On the crest of a wave."
Drake's next attempt, Pink Moon, didn't do much better in the sales department, though it gathered very high critical acclaim. Pink Moon explored Drake's guitar ability more than his lyrical ability (though it was compromised) and does so exceptionally well. "Things Behind the Sun" explores this really well, his guitar sometimes goes into an absolute frenzy, chopping off notes and bending them to breaking point.
In these songs, the messages are very clear. The lines from "Place to Be" and "Parasite" spell it out, but the message was no clearer than in the song "Know".
"Know that I love you
Know I don't care
Know that I see you
Know I'm not there."
Drake's ghosts were closing in fast.
After the commercial failure of Pink Moon, Drake retreated back to Far Leys. He sat in the orange armchair, refusing to see friends. He was so far gone, not even the anti-depressant pills could bring him back.
Then, unexpectedly, life picked up. Drake found himself back in the studio in 1974 and recorded four very rare songs that gave the listener more of an insight to his private hell. "Hanging on a Star" is perhaps the most well-known and common of these four, and to call that song "depressing" is way too kind a word. But Drake was not finished yet. In October 1974, he found himself back in France, meeting with a French folk singer who had expressed interest in recording with him. He returned to Far Leys confident that he had finally found direction.
But life plays cruel jokes. One night in November that same year, Drake was up in the early hours, as he had been plagued by insomnia for most of his life. According to his parents, he was in a good mood, and had Brandenburg Concerto on the turntable. Drake mistook his anti-depressants, Tryptizol, for sleeping pills, and took a few, not knowing they were lethal if even one pill was taken over the limit. His mother found him dead on the morning of 25 November, 1974. He was 26 years old.
The beasts were silent at last.
Drake lies buried in a Tanworth-in-Arden churchyard, his crumbling gravestone, engraved with the words "And now we rise, and we are everywhere," overlooking a wide expanse of closely-cropped hills and carefully tended meadows.
Inside the church, there is a pipe organ used to accompany the church hymns and devotionals. Above one of the organ stops sits a brass plaque with Drake's name on it, donated by his mother and father to keep the church going. Once a year, the church plans a recital of Drake's songs. The church is still packed with locals long after the deaths of Drake and his parents who lift their voices high to pay tribute to their native son. They say you can hear the singing from miles around.
After his death, the last four recorded songs were tacked into Pink Moon, and in spite of it being a good seller, it was deleted by Island Records in 1983.
Of all the things about Nick Drake that captivate me, this is the one that haunts me the most whenever I listen to his music. He never made it. The beautiful melodies that plagued him throughout his life barely made it to the ears of 5 000 people when he was alive. Hardly anyone has heard of him, despite the moderate success he achieved after his death. He is just another singer/songwriter who fell victim to his inner demons. I can't help but think that, had he been given the recognition he deserved, he would still be alive today, making more music with legends such as Bob Dylan, John Martyn and Elton John.
His true genius was never realised, and his timeless songs go largely unheard, lost in a sea of pop hits that don't last two months before they are played out. And that bothers me more than I can put into words.
I leave you now with the first song of Nick Drake's that I heard, the song that reeled me in and has yet to let me go. Enjoy.
From the Morning - Nick Drake
