the legendary nick drake--8/22/25

22 Aug 2025

the legendary nick drake--8/22/25

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Today's encore selection-- from White Bicycles by Joe Boyd. Nick Drake only recorded three albums, was little noticed during his life, and committed suicide at the age of 26. But many of his songs—"Riverman," "From the Morning," "One of These Things First," "Cello Song," and others—are considered masterpieces.

“‘Uh, hello?’ The voice on the other end of the line was low and soft, almost embarrassed. In the years to come, I would get used to Nick Drake's way of answering the telephone as if it had never rung before. When I told him why I was calling, he was surprised. 'Oh, OK, uh, I'll bring it in tomorrow.' He appeared at my office the next morning in a black wool overcoat stained with cigarette ash. He was tall and handsome with an apologetic stoop: either he had no idea how good looking he was or was embarrassed by the fact. He handed me the tape and shuffled out the door.

“When I had some peace and quiet later that winter afternoon in 1968, I put the reel-to-reel tape on the little machine in the corner of my office. The first song was not one of his best: 'I Was Made To Love Magic'. The sentimental chord at the beginning of the chorus became one of the few moments in a Nick Drake song to annoy me. But that first time, it drew me in: it was, after all, the first Nick Drake song I ever heard. Next came 'The Thoughts Of Mary Jane', then 'Time Has Told Me'. I played the tape again, then again. The clarity and strength of the talent were striking. It was like the moment I heard Robin Williamson's 'October Song' or Richard Thompson's solo at UFO, but there was something uniquely arresting in Nick's composure. The music stayed within itself, not trying to attract the listener's attention, just making itself available. His guitar technique was so clean it took a while to realize how complex it was. Influences were detectable here and there, but the heart of the music was mysteriously original.

Drake in 1969

“Nick came in the next day and listened as I explained what I wanted to do. He nodded and stammered, staring down at his hands, then asked whether I minded if he smoked. I couldn't take my eyes off his hands: they were huge and stained with nicotine, the fingers strong and articulate, with long, evenly trimmed nails caked with grime. He moved them constantly as he listened to my plans for him.

“My productions had until then been mostly with working groups, which meant simply recording what was already there. But Nick's compositions cried out for arrangements, an ideal setting for each song. One source of inspiration was John Simon's production of the first Leonard Cohen album. Simon had adorned the tracks with choruses, strings and other additions that set off Cohen's voice without overwhelming it or sounding cheesy. Cohen's voice was recorded close and intimate, with no shiny pop reverb. Nick hadn't heard it, but he liked the idea of strings. He described performing with a string quartet at a Cambridge May Ball, the first moment of our meeting when he became animated.

“His accent was at the aristocratic end of 'received pronunciation'. Born in Burma, where his father was a doctor in the Colonial Service, he attended Marlborough and was now at Cambridge, reading English. I had met many public schoolboys (Chris Blackwell, for example) who seemed to have not an iota of doubt in their entire beings. Nick had the accent and the offhand mannerisms, but had somehow missed out on the confidence.

“One evening, Nick played me all his songs. Up close, the power of his fingers was astonishing, with each note ringing out loud — almost painfully so — and clear in the small room. I had listened closely to Robin Williamson, John Martyn, Bert Jansch and John Renbourn. Half-struck strings and blurred hammerings-on were an accepted part of their sound; none could match Nick's mastery of the instrument. After finishing one song, he would retune the guitar and proceed to play something equally complex in a totally different chord shape."