OK. Second review on N. Drake.
I had the CD in the car for about a month without having the courage to put it on... because, let's face it, like everyone, I know the sad story, and I wasn't in the mood to hear its epilogue. Yet, it was different from what I expected.
"Pink Moon" is the story of a defeat but also represents a victory. There's a piece called "harvest breed" and it goes like this:
Falling fast and falling free you look to find a friend
Falling fast and falling free this could just be the end
Falling fast you stoop to touch and kiss the flowers that bend
And you're ready now
For the harvest breed
The image is one of free fall, into the void, without a parachute. But there's no pain, no suffering, you simply let yourself be carried away. Those who have come out of a coma say that in the end, life passes before your eyes like a movie, and that you can watch it with affection but with detachment.
For this reason, towards the end, the tones of this record become, despite the words, the meaning, light, rhythmic, diaphanous. Even the length of the record is a very strange thing, it's short, but the times seem to stretch out, just like in a free fall.
"Hey slow, jane, let me prove", we had heard in "bryter layter." Now it's not the time to prove anymore, but it feels like everything that needed to be said has been said - Nick has taken his path, and he'll follow it to the end, even if the world hasn't changed. It doesn’t matter who will listen to what you say, it’s still worth finding the things that lie behind the sun. And this is the victory, and also the end of the story...
and yet no...
Listening is not enough.
I listen to Pink Moon and embark on a journey at the end of my little night.
Nick’s voice penetrated my heart to touch the deepest strings of my soul, it motivated me immensely.
This album has made my life less trivial, less flat and gray.
I recognize that fantastically acoustic guitar, that familiar and unknown voice, beautiful and dangerous, perhaps the right thing at the wrong time?
Tears are the blood of the soul.
"Pink Moon is just like a sad phone call that goes deep inside you and injects you with a form of profound melancholy."
"Nick Drake is the almost extinguished ember burning in the coal of a fireplace, but that will never fully go out."
That night, that damned night, I wanted everything to end. To never look anyone in the face again, neither pain, nor myself.
The face was pink and round like a moon, a scarred, frightened, and distraught moon, the mouth a river of bright red, the eyes two gray puddles forgotten by God.