HIGH BIAS -- reissues

High Bias refreshed

NICK DRAKE
Five Leaves Left
Bryter Layter
Pink Moon
Way to Blue: An Introduction to Nick Drake
(Island/Chronicles)
Ten years ago, very few people outside of a circle of music geeks had heard of Nick Drake. The British singer/songwriter made a trio of albums from 1969-1972 that sold diddly but influenced nearly every songwriter who heard him, then died from an overdose of anti-depressants a couple of years later. (The debate still rages among Drake fanatics over whether or not it was suicide.) His legacy rests as much on his emotional and mental instability—the term "painfully withdrawn" is wholly inadequate in describing Drake's mental state—as for his music, and the two aspects of his character have become inescapably intertwined. His beautifully arranged, gently poetic records have been interpreted as a gradual portrait of mental collapse. True or not, this has ensured his stature as a legend, but it's not exactly the kind of impression that entices a large audience into partaking of the wares. Thus, Drake remained a beloved, influential, but ultimately little-known cult figure for nearly three decades.

Then some hip marketing executive got the idea to use one of Drake's songs in a commercial for Volkswagen. Many music geeks were shocked as all hell to hear his mysterious, understated "Pink Moon" accompanying a surprisingly tasteful, even beautiful commercial that seemed to extol the virtues of driving in the mountains while listening to Nick Drake. Suddenly, more people than ever before were aware of Drake, and while it didn't exactly cause his music to shoot up the charts, album sales did experience a bit of an upswing. But his records weren't as easy to find as they had once been; the 80s Hannibal reissues, supervised by Drake producer and Hannibal president Joe Boyd, had become scarce. Universal, which owns the catalog of Drake's original label Island, decided to give the records a new lease on life, with 24-bit remastering (a technique that probably means little to non-audiophiles) and meticulously recreated graphics that manage to fit everything from the original vinyl albums in with full lyric sheets. Anyone who already owns the Hannibal versions probably doesn't really need to buy these, but someone searching in vain for Drake music after being enchanted by the VW spot will jump for joy.

1969's Five Leaves Left, Drake's first album, starts with "Time Has Told Me," a song that sets the tone not only for the record but for the songwriter's entire career. Richard Thompson and Danny Thompson provide understated accompaniment on guitar and bass respectively, and Paul Harris plays tasteful piano, but the arrangement is centered squarely on Drake's folkish acoustic guitar and jazzy, vulnerable voice. Drake's delivery denotes a sense of intimacy, as if the listener was overhearing someone's private thoughts, even though the song is directed to an unnamed "you." "Time has told me," he sings, "you're a rare rare find/A troubled cure/For a troubled mind." Drake's own mind was apparently troubled enough that he couldn't sing a bright love song without injecting at least a little darkness into it. The record pretty much lays out Drake's agenda, as he tries to update folk music and the emerging singer/songwriter ethic with poetic wordplay, sophisticated arrangements and more than a bit of honest depression. Some of Drake's best-known (in a relative sense, of course) tunes are here, including the lush "Fruit Tree" and "Way to Blue" (one of his most beautiful cuts), the mysterious "River Man" (the contrast between the string arrangement and Drake's bluesy strumming is exquisite) and the "'Cello Song," a mellifluous rambler with dexterous fingerpicking. Despite these and other highlights, Drake scholars often disparage this record, insisting that it was merely a blueprint for what was to follow. They need to listen again; upon reflection, Five Leaves Left is just as strong an artistic statement as anything else in his tiny catalog. [buy it]

Bryter Layter, originally released in 1970, is at first listen more of the same: introspective, melodic folk excursions with tastefully lush arrangements. On closer inspection, it's a more refined version of the debut, with fuller instrumentation in spots and a tighter, more mature musical focus. With a rhythm section (bassist Dave Pegg and drummer Dave Mattacks, on loan from Fairport Convention) on nearly every cut and guests like Richard Thompson, saxist Ray Warleigh and John Cale (!), the tracks are more listener friendly than anything Drake had yet attempted. The jazzier-than-ever-before "Poor Boy," the sublime "Northern Sky" and the startling upbeat "Hazey Jane II" (on which Belle & Sebastian seems to have based its entire career) would have been pop hits in a universe where Drake's near-paralyzing agoraphobia hadn't prevented him from touring and promotion. There's more to the record than those triumphs, though, including the beautiful melancholy of "At the Chime of a City Clock," "Fly" and "One of These Things First." This is also the only Drake album to include a couple of instrumentals, "Sunday" and the title track, of which the songwriter was reportedly fiercely proud. Lyrically Drake lets a bit of sunshine chase those naughty clouds away on a few tunes; "Northern Sky" proclaims, "I never felt magic crazy as this," and the sentiment of the self-pitying "Poor Boy" is belied by its joyous music. But most of the songs find Drake drawing deeper into the darkness that eventually consumed him. "Hazey Jane I," "Fly" and "Hazey Jane II" (which begins with the troubling lyric "And what will happen in the morning when the world it gets so crowded you can't look out the window in the morning") maintain the same tone as the record's cover, a shot of Drake staring sullenly at the floor, clutching his guitar in shadow. Though musically brighter than ever before (or ever again), Bryter Layter also indicates a troubled soul slowly succumbing to an introversion so severe that reclusion would be the only option. [buy it]

After a two-year layoff which saw Drake quit music, only to suddenly return to the studio, 1972 brought the album on which much of Drake's reputation rests, Pink Moon. Recorded without outside assistance, just Drake and engineer John Wood, Pink Moon is the well from which all following "solo acoustic" records would spring, a stark, challenging set of songs that presents Drake's artistry in the baldest, most uncompromising of terms. Tunes like "Road," (which sports a by then uncharacteristically optimistic tone), "Know" and the title track are little more than haikus set to music, getting their points across with as few words as possible. Even the instrumental "Horn" is presented in the simplest form available. Other tracks get busier, with nimbler fingerpicking and more verbiage, but Drake maintains a consistent tone throughout. The cynical "Parasite" and the yearning "Free Ride," "Which Will" and "Place to Be" (perhaps his finest song) can't seem to shake an emotional malaise weighted down with sadness and exhaustion. Some tracks sound as if Drake wasn't willing to go gently into the good night of madness; "Thing Behind the Sun" may argue "And once you've seen what they have been/To win the earth just won't seem worth/Your night and day," but it also states "Take your time and you'll be fine," and the subtly hopeful "Harvest Breed" and "From the Morning" close the album on an almost high note. But the overall impression is one of gloom, as if Drake was giving up on any sense of self-worth and letting his blackest inner thoughts out to play. This is a view no doubt distorted by time and reputation, but after 30 years it's impossible to extricate the mythological persona from the art created in its wake. In any case, Pink Moon remains a depression-wallowing classic. [buy it]

Universal rounds out its reissue program with Way to Blue: An Introduction to Nick Drake, a compilation overseen by Joe Boyd that hits the obvious highlights ("Pink Moon," "'Cello Song," both "Hazey Janes") and includes some more eccentric choices ("From the Morning," "One of These Things First"). Since the label has apparently chosen not to re-release the outtakes collection Time of No Reply, two of its tracks are included here, including the lovely, impressionist "Time of No Reply" and the haunted "Black Eyed Dog." It's too easy to read the latter as Drake's death rattle; following "A black eyed dog called at my door/The black eyed dog he called for more" with the bridge "I'm growing old and I wanna go home/I'm growing old and I don't wanna know"—Robert Johnson by way of a dark English forest glade—seems to confirm every theory about Drake, his illness and his art. Regardless of what is real and what is myth, Way to Blue is an excellent entry point for newcomers into this unique musician's melancholy world. Once tasted, the work of Nick Drake demands to be consumed whole, and those hungry now have a banquet to attend. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: John Cunningham, Tim Buckley, Belle & Sebastian