I come alive in moments like these. I am intensely curious. I always need something new to occupy my mind and keep me full of wonder. I picked up a CD from the library entitled “Where Are They Now?” about one hit wonders of the 80’s and 90’s. It was full of the usual suspects: Big Country, Bow Wow Wow and the Dream Academy. I loved that song of theirs, “Life in a Northern Town.” I suspected there must be a great story behind it. There was. It was about Nick Drake, when I looked him up on Wikipedia it noted that he “...ranks among the most influential English singer-songwriters of the last 50 years.”
The hell?! I admit it, I’d never heard of him. Oh, that was at first depressing -- but than exciting. The Strange Light detective agency had a new -- more exciting case to work on. The miseducation of Vincent Blackwood was underway. I completely dropped figuring out that whatever-happened-to-the-Dream-Academy thingy. After all, I had begun with “Where's Fluffy?” and ended with the Maltese Falcon -- with Rosebud.
I was able to get a hold of Nick Drakes albums: Five Leaves Left (1969), Bryter Layter (1970), Pink Moon (1972), along with some non-album tracks. This morning, I listen to them for the first time.
What I heard, took me off guard. His voice had a deep, gentle woodwind like sound. I wasn’t really making out all the lyrics at first. I have been conditioned to think of singer/songwriters as being all about the lyrics. But I began to realize that wasn’t what he was after. He wasn't trying to be the next Dylan. He was using string and a variety of other non-rock instruments in very original ways. They didn’t feel tacked on at the end as a cheap way to tart up the sound and make it feel classy. They were part of what he wanted to say from the beginning.
My expectations were black and white musical drawings (where the words are the thing), what I was getting was impressionistic sound paintings. His oboe like voice was another sound color in the mood he was depicting. Sleepily, I listened, but that was the best way to hear it all. Lyrics like: “who dressed you in strange clothes of sand” and “look through panes of shaded glass, see the stains of winter's grass” drifted into my drowsy consciousness. It was a beautiful, sad dream. One I will return to again and again.
I thought, as I stretched and got out of bed to write this, that I couldn’t wait to hear more from such a brilliant, original artist. But I won’t. Nick Drake only release three albums before his death at 26 from an overdose of his anti-depressants. There won’t be anymore songs from him. Clothes of sand have covered his face.
Clothes Of Sand
Nick Drake
Who has dressed you in strange clothes of sand
Who has taken you far from my land
Who has said that my sayings were wrong
And who will say that I stayed much too long?
Clothes of sand have covered your face
Given you meaning but taken my place
So make your way on down to the sea
Something has taken you so far from me.
Does it now seem worth all the colour of skies
To see the earth through painted eyes
To look through panes of shaded glass
See the stains of winter's grass.
Can you now return to from where you came
Try to burn your changing name
Or with silver spoons and coloured light
Will you worship moons in winter's night.
Clothes of sand have covered your face
Given you meaning but taken my place
So make your way on down to the sea
Something has taken you so far from me.
Video for Clothes of Sand
http://www.michaelorgan.org.au/drake1.htm
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