An Angel Once Walked Among Us
There is a legitimate reason the mournful, brooding folk music of Nick Drake has earned him cult status as one of the most important musicians who ever walked the earth, and that reason is thus: his music has absolutely everything a listener could wish for.
His debut album Five Leaves Left, frequently cited as one of the finest albums ever made, radiates with a redemptive melancholy, a gentle, earthbound humour, a hopeful and jubilant resignation in the face of personal despair and an empathetic chill which burrows deeper into the human experience in one song than most artists manage in a lifetime of recording.
His voice husks through the stereo assisted by the finest string arrangements on any album from Robert Kirby and it is the otherworldliness in his voice that is responsible for his present-day angelic status. That and his impressive tombstone, no doubt, which looms high over the small church of St. Mary Magdalene’s in Tanworth-in-Arden where he is buried.
Looked upon for what it was, a masterful debut album from a reluctant but undeniable folk talent, it is incredible how well Five Leaves Left (released in 1969) manages to stand up, in spite of all the critical praise and decades of commercial neglect drubbed upon it. Although I favour the picturesque diorama of Bryter Layter, his understated follow-up album from 1970 – a work of unmatchable artistic genius in this opinion – this album is a masterful collection of timeless music in its own right.
Time Has Told Me establishes the jazzy inflection to some of Nick Drake’s work, with a woozy (and rare) lead bass line, performed by Danny Thompson over the trademark acoustic guitar and lightly ruminative opening verse from a cheerful Drake. Although the electric guitar and piano flourishes help diminish the intensity of the music, towards its chorus the piece has a deeply affecting little modulation, and bows out with some of the most painfully simple couplets in musical history: "Time has told me not to ask for more, for some day our ocean will find its shore."
River Man is another of Drake’s most well-known tracks and perhaps one of his most powerful through its tremulous string arrangements from Harry Robinson (only credited for one tune). Whatever special nuance Mr. Robinson had for this tune, it worked, since the strings form a melancholy swirl around the sorrowful lead guitar and contemplative verses about the passing of time from Drake, in his most pensive and introspective mood here.
Although Drake is a subtly poetic lyricist, making it difficult to claw beneath the meaning of his words, the intensity of this music conveys a deep loss and a sadness that is often quite difficult to bear. This is a tune of quite staggering proportions, however. His education in classical music (he often practiced violin for fun with his parents) explains how he is able to attain these heights of emotion.
Three Hours is the most traditional folk piece Drake has recorded, a lengthy and complex piece with shifting time signatures, brooding moments of real searching on the acoustic guitar and gentle bongo accompaniment from Rocki Dzidzornu. One of the darkest pieces here, this one has more in common with age-old folk and even Delta blues than some of the more contemporary arrangements on the album, and Drake almost sounds preserved in a small dark cave performing this one.
Way To Blue is arranged just for strings and vocals, which works to an interesting effect in spite of the lack of melodic flare or a basic tune. To me the strings have often sounded a little too showy and intrusive at times, although Drake sounds even more angelic, especially as he drawls out: "Tell me all that you may know."
Day Is Done debunks such an unfair criticism, since the arrangements lift what is a simple and poignant folk tune into a little nugget of unfettered genius. The sound of a sombre evening coming to its end, this tune rises and sinks with a gentle world-weariness, perhaps even futility, and as such leaves goose bumps on the skin no amount of solvent shall displace.
‘Cello Song follows, used to tremendous effect during a crucial scene in Lynne Anderson’s coming-of-age drama Ratcatcher, and abounds with a pastoral beauty and one unforgettable cello performance from Clare Lowther. The tune coasts along on its ruminative brilliance and crackles with an unspoken sadness, and once more those bongos are used to fine effect. Why there is an apostrophe before this song title eludes me, but it is printed as thus on the album. Strange.
The Thoughts of Mary Jane is beautiful, despite being clearly imprinted in the period with its more saccharine arrangement, but its understated softness and unique sound lends to its power. There are verses and modulations in this tune that prick the same peaks of emotion his strongest music manages to achieve.
Man In A Shed is an important example of the humour in his music that is often overlooked, and although the lyrics here are loaded with a sense of resigned despair, without the gentle optimism in his music, we would have little of modern day reincarnations such as Belle & Sebastian to take his baton. Paul Harris adds some stellar piano to this one.
Saturday Sun closes the album on an upbeat and jazzier note which provides a perfect denouement after what can be an often intense album to sit through time after time. There is a certain ambiguity in his closing sentiment: "Saturday’s sun has turned into Sunday’s rain."
Fruit Tree precedes, perhaps the most wrenching tune he ever composed; given his own increasing legacy thirty-odd years after his passing. It can be difficult when musical figures who die too young write prescient tunes about themselves, since it can make it a strangely ethereal listening experience. This is one of these pieces, an extremely mournful rumination on fame with some of the most stirring string arrangements from Kirby and introspective song writing from Drake.
The entire piece is a perfect artistic triumph, one of the most terrific marriages of a gentle acoustic tune to strings; lifted into immortality by the sheer power of its dramatic arrangements. I challenge any soul not to shed a tear as he sings: "No-one knows you but the rain and the air, don’t you worry, they’ll stand and stare when you’re gone."
Five Leaves Left is not going to wow everyone upon a first listen. It is a dark, challenging, articulate and often bleak album dealing with profound and emotive subjects; full of often haunting and powerful tracks which connect on an immediately visceral level. However, it is the universal nature of this music, its profound transcendence, which makes it impossible to ignore for those seeking first-class song writing of an unmatchable pedigree. All those with no Nick Drake in their collection ought to bow their head in despair.
Rating: 10/10
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