Nick Drake has for many years had his work in folk be compared to that of Robert Johnson in blues. The comparisons, of course, that most people gravitate towards to is the ultimate tragedy of their lives, with little recognition in their own lifetimes and dying at far too young an age in their twenties. But, to focus on the positive, both were also transcendentally gifted on the acoustic guitar, and both have left a small but vital pool of cultural wealth to music.
Though I have to say “folk” would be restrictive description for Nick Drakes first album, Five Leaves Left. It can be easy to do so – Nick Drake would go on to make what is probably the best, most definitive folk record of all time – but the instrumentation on these first two albums leans far into the realms of Eleanor Rigby-esque baroque pop. With that in mind, it’s interesting to see the direction folk music would take between the opposite sides of the pond. In America, thanks to artists like Dylan, and somewhat previous Record Club focus Leonard Cohen), folk music was leaning ever closer to rock music, with its political charged lyrical foot in the pool of Beatnik writers (though Simon and Garfunkel’s work did match much of Drake’s melancholy). Here the baroque folk and classical influence of Drakes music are matched by lyrics whose greatest comparisons are to that of William Blake: cryptic, full of mood (Blake’s poetry itself was meant to be complimented with music), but ultimately so full of nature as to feel the wind rustle the trees.
Five Leaves Left starts with what could be honestly described as one his more positive and upbeat songs in “Time Has Told Me,” with Nick Drake even highlighting that he will find the person to ease his troubled mind. Nick Drake’ first two albums are filled with surprisingly high profile faces, such as here where the great Richard Thompson compliments the song with a quiet and bright electric counterpoint (I believe Thompson introduced Drake’s music to R.E.M, who ended up being an early vocal champion of his then still unknown records). But from the first notes of his first album, we get of sense of Nick Drake’s amazing skills on the acoustic guitar, using bizarre. Even when full to the brim with accompanying instruments, his guitar still makes itself prominent, hitting complex acoustic melodies of strange chord in a way as to feel simple. The next song, “River Man”, thematically, is what we more associate with a “Nick Drake song”, a melancholic description of nature and enigmatic mythology, this time with the character of Betty going to see the River Man, and Betty feeling somewhat oblivious to the joys of nature, not even wanting to know how the systems work. The guitar here has a beautiful yet discordant swing to the chords, which contrasts with the bright and cinematic string arrangement by Harry Robinson.
“Time Has Told Me”: “Time has told me/ You came with the dawn/ A soul with no footprint/ A rose with no thorn
“River Man”: “Betty said she prayed today/ For the sky to blow away/ Or maybe stay/ She wasn’t sure.”
“Three Hours” is the longest track on the album, full of references to time and the limited amount the character of Jeremy has (what he is lacking time for is left deliberately vague, though is definitely related to the place from which he comes). The fast finger picking here is incredibly impressive, but here is a demonstrative example of further instrumentation that is there to compliment the guitar. The conga playing by Rocky (thank god this is the written and not speech) Dzidzornu is quiet and echoing, and Danny Thompson’s double bass mainly serves to hit out the lower notes Drake cannot get to with a similar kind of fast boldness that still remains tender. By contrast, “Way to Blue” is the primary example of where Five Leaves Left leaves any noticeable kind of folk roots, removing the guitar entirely for an incredible array of strings by Robert Kirby. With a certain kind of duty removed with his guitar, it leaves more room for Drake’s vocals and lyrics. As a vocalist his main talent was that it perfectly matched the mood of the music, despite being so unobtrusive, and although no crooner his diction and ability to start melodies on the strangest of beats should not go unnoticed.
“Three Hours”: “East from the city/ And down to the cave/ In search for a master/ In search for a slave”
“Way to Blue”: “Look through time and find your rhyme/ Tell us what you find/ We will wait at your gate/ Hoping like the blind.”
Side One ends, and Side Two begins, with two of Nick Drake’s best and most well-known songs. The finale to the first half, “Day is Done,” I would say is one of my favourites if that mattered in a discography so short and so consistent. It combines Robert Kirby’s beautiful baroque strings from the previous song, yet still leaves room for Drake to produce one of his best guitar lines. And lyrically it is full of man’s connection to nature, with the days ending relating to our own sense of restarting and trying again. This first album is full of lots of third person character examination, but this is more exemplary of Nick Drake’s progression into becoming less exact and more enigmatic with his descriptions as his career would go along. Side Two’s introduction, “Cello Song,” is also another favourite of his canon (and evocatively used in the Lynne Ramsay gem Ratcatcher). Obviously, given the title, attention must be payed to the cello playing by Clare Lowther, which plays the line that Nick Drake would also go on to sing. It shows perfect unity between narrator and the instruments, in a song that refers to singing as a means of waiting for someone close to you, though the final lines likely mean waiting for death to reunite people. But one thing that should also be talked about is the strange percussion, which pops and rattles as though we are speeding along a giant field (though, again, Ratcatcher may have put that in my mind).
“Day is Done”: “When the game’s been fought/ You speed the ball across the court/ Lost much sooner than you would have thought/ Now the game’s been fought.”
“Cello Song”: “And if one day you should see me in the crowd/ Lend a hand and lift me/ To your place in the cloud.”
Whilst “The Thoughts of Mary Jane” is, yes, also likely about marijuana (as more songs would go on to reference Nick Drake’s drug use), it is maybe more worth interpreting it in terms of its narrative as a person. As such, it could be seen to be about a Nathan Rabin-created/hated word of a character, though here the mystery of her personality is extended to the thoughts of the narrator as well. And to me this song seems pretty asexual, as indeed even Nick Drake’s most forthcoming songs kinda were (like the next song). The instrumentation seems to echo this character’s personality, with Kirby including lighter flute arrangements, and the song ending with a sudden rush of tempo and instrumentation. This helps to set up for the, shall I say, jazzier “Man in a Shed”. There is certainly a lot more piano on this track by Paul Harris, the most prominent instrument despite Drake’s bright stabs and bend still being very clear, and thanks to this Nick Drake is able to give the most seemingly boring and mundane subject matter a kind of mythic quality.
“Thoughts of Mary Jane”: “Who can know/ The thoughts of Mary Jane/ Why she flies/ Or goes out in the rain
“Man in a Shed”: “Well this story is not so very new/ But the man is me, yes and the girl is you/ So leave your house come into my shed/ Please stop my world from raining through my head”
“Fruit Tree” is pretty damn amazing, in as much as musical consensus says you are meant to make your songs criticising the concept of fame when you are, you know, famous. But here Drake relates it more to both a personal and historical sense, and as such makes a song about the flaws of such a popular life without the sense of whining (also by relating to central, religious metaphor). Musically it is also great, with the strings and woodwind moving in and out like the clouds around the central tree, and Nick’s guitar circles around the strings going from the grounded notes to the clearest highs. But that instrument is stripped away from him completely in the finale, “Saturday Sun,” and instead we get to see him show off his piano skill. Of course, it’s less obvious than that of his guitar, but here the soulful and plain full chords allow a framework for the rest of the instruments to create a calm and melancholic atmosphere. Tristan Fry certainly contributes to that, with both his vibraphone and actual drum playing lending a unique tone with which to end Five Leaves Left. But still, it ultimately it comes down to Nick Drake’s thoughtful and contemplative personality, here in the album’s most first person song, as an illustration of how ultimately discontented he was from everyone else. But he attempting to find some comfort; everyone else must have that kind of feeling to.
“Fruit Tree”: Safe in a womb of an everlasting night/ You find the darkness can give the brightest light
“Saturday Sun”: “But when I remember/ Those people and places/ They were really too good”
Even at the age of 20 (*rumble grumble*) Nick Drake was displaying a (Cambridge educated) wisdom beyond his years, and this mixture of baroque, folk and even jazz demonstrates that. Five Leaves Later is also somewhat of the middle child between the even more lush Bryter Latyer and the raw nature of Pink Moon. As such the first Nick Drake record is also the first place you should start. What a great way to start Autumn; with the most Autumn sounding album likely ever.
What did you think of the album, though?
Nick Drake Album Rankings
- Five Leaves Left