Nick Drake
Five Leaves Left

THE REVIEW

Nick Drake November 26, 1974 - November 26, 2004. We are now just two months away from the end of this 1969, which will almost certainly be remembered as one of the happiest musical years of the decade we are about to bid farewell to: between the great Woodstock event, the boom of the American Creedence Clearwater Revival, the emerging transgressive rock of the Led Zeppelin (the most popular band of the moment), the new ambitious project by The Who, and the very recent marvel from the Beatles (despite the increasingly insistent, so far refuted, rumors of their possible breakup), we vinyl happiness enthusiasts have been spoiled for choice. Many artists have finally found the winning opportunity for their consecration in front of the world's audience, with original and innovative proposals: and despite everything, there is still great anticipation for the new release from the Rolling Stones, coming soon, which will be their return to the scene after Brian Jones' tragic end last July. However, this week I wanted to introduce you to an album that came out rather quietly, on the Island label, and hasn't yet received the promotion it undoubtedly deserves: the album in question is called "Five Leaves Left" and the artist is Nick Drake. A name certainly still unknown to most, but trust me when I say this is the debut album of the year! Indeed, this 21-year-old Cambridge student is not the classic singer-songwriter/troubadour à la Donovan, of which countless imitators now abound worldwide, but his proposal is decidedly more particular, and for this reason, strikes straight at the listener's heart. Unlike Dylan, Drake doesn't want to impose himself as an "engaged" protest singer (a courageous choice, these days), he doesn't have the ambition to represent his generation (like Simon & Garfunkel, for example), nor does he take on the role of the umpteenth storyteller. In his music, one might find at most some debts to Van Morrison (a name that has now become a benchmark for all British songwriters) and the folk of Fairport Convention, but that doesn't change the fact that the main theme of this album is none other than himself, the desire to communicate to others his loves, hopes, passions for art and poetry: to finally communicate himself. He is shy, Drake: you can sense it from the photo on the cover, from the subdued, detached, almost impersonal tone of his voice. He doesn't give interviews, he doesn't perform live. He is shy and shadowy, but not enough to hide his great talent and ambition to be discovered and appreciated by the general public: in fact, for the realization and production of the ten songs that make up this "Five Leaves Left" (the title references a phrase on his favorite cigarette papers), he relies on the help of his friend Robert Kirby, called at the last moment to arrange strings, betraying his passion for symphonic music. In the sweet country-tinged ballad "Time Has Told Me," the complexity of Drake's sensitive nature can be summed up in the simple line "I’ll leave the roads that are making me love what I don't really want to love." The atmosphere turns tense and painful in "River Man," an unsettling song that seems to hide Drake's personal ghosts behind the story of the unhappy Betty. A small bongo sets the time for the long and hypnotic "Three Hours," but probably the true masterpiece is the sad and sweet "Way To Blue," where Drake's voice shines over the small orchestra like a comet in a starry night at the North Pole. After a few listens, it's hard to choose one piece over another; it's almost as if each song becomes dear to you as if they were real people: the fatalistic "Day Is Done" ("When the day is done / you hope that your race has been run / then you find it's just begun / and you have to come back to where you started"), the love & death pairing of "'Cello Song" ("Forget this cruel world to which I belong / I'll just sit and wait and sing my song / and if one day you should see me in the crowd / lend me a hand and lift me / to your place on the cloud"), the sweet and enigmatic "The Thoughts Of Mary Jane" ("She has come from a strange world / and left her mind behind / her long lost sighs / and her shining colored eyes / tell her story to the wind"), and the bizarre jazzy "Man In Shed" (the album's most relaxed and "cheerful" moment). This stunning debut concludes with two songs that, due to continuous listening, are wearing out the needle on my record player: the sublime "Fruit Free," which in my opinion is a true artistic and conceptual manifesto of this young singer-songwriter ("Life is but a memory / happened long ago / theater full of sadness / for a play drowned in started rows"), and the delicate blues of "Saturday Sun" ("And the Saturday sun has turned to Sunday's rain / so, Sunday sat on Saturday's sun / and wept for a day gone"). Drake's work is therefore minimalist and introspective, inspired by literature (from John Keats to Oscar Wilde, even recalling Leopardi), but decidedly personal. This beautiful album, in the end, speaks of him; it is him. And if you fall in love with it as I did for the emotions it can convey, then I truly believe this will be the beginning of a bright career for Drake: the potential for breakthrough is there. So, everyone, leave your favorite singers for a moment and buy this record from your local shop, I repeat: his name is Nick Drake, the album is "Five Leaves Left", on the Island label. You won't regret it. Buy it, please.