Here Comes That Rainy Day Feelin' Again

It's a rainy day today - gray skies, everything heavy and dark with the intermittent precipitation.  Days like this always make me turn to a certain kind of music.  A certain kind of mellow, moody, introspective music that matches in sound the way the environment makes me feel.  The right kind of music can enhance a day like today and make it seem steeped in romance and deeper meaning.

My go-to on rainy, thoughtful days is Nick Drake.  A solemn, sad young man, Drake crafted three perfect albums of autumnal folk pop in the 1970's.  His output was greeted by thunderous silence, and he eventually killed himself.  He was 26.

Over time, his life and work began to enjoy a reappraisal, gradually elevating his status to minor legend and inspiring generations of similar singer-songwriters who have followed in his wake.  The biography of his life holds a fascination for me - misunderstood, moody genius goes unappreciated in his own time, leaving him alone and dejected.  Not unlike Van Gogh, I suppose.  If only a little of that subsequent adoration could have been focused on him during his life - he may still be around today.  Anyway, that's the fantasy.  By all accounts, Drake was moody, bitter, and utterly withdrawn.  That was who he was, and no amount of money or fame would have likely changed that.

His three albums chart an emotional trajectory as well as a musical one.  1969's "Five Leaves Left" was relatively light folk not dissimilar to the output of other such artists of the day, like Neil Young or James Taylor.  1970's "Bryter Layter" took the mold set by "Five Leaves" and darkened it up a bit, while augmenting Drake's spare sound with jazzy accompaniment - much to Drake's ultimate disdain.  1971's "Pink Moon" is the bleakest and sparest of the trilogy - with only Drake and his guitar (and one piano overdub) filling out the album's brief running time.  However, it is no less finely crafted and enjoyable, and in many circles is considered Drake's masterpiece. 

Drake refused to do PR work for the albums, or to perform live to support them.  Hence, they all sold incredibly poorly (under 5,000 copies each).  Drake's label, Island Records, eventually cut off his monthly stipend, and he retreated to his parent's home where he would spend the rest of his life.

Drake's albums, like those of Leonard Cohen, contain a hyper-literary sensibility.  His songs are set apart by some truly wonderful, evocative lyrics.  His soft delivery and deft musicianship drive the power of the lyrics home with gently thundering force.

Lifting the mask from from a local clown
Feeling down like him
Seeing the light in a station bar
And travelling far in sin
Sailing downstairs to the northern line
Watching the shine of the shoes
And hearing the trial of the people there
Who's to care if they lose.
And take a look you may see me on the ground
For I am the parasite of this town.

Dancing a jig in a church with chimes
A sign of the times today
And hearing no bell from a steeple tall
People all in dismay
Falling so far on a silver spoon
Making the moon for fun
And changing a rope for a size too small
People all get hung.
Take a look and see me coming through
For I am the parasite who travels two by two.

From "Parasite" - off of "Pink Moon"

The three albums, while distinctly different from each other, share an unmistakable thread.  And while subsequent artists have mined similar territory and even approached a similar sound - the late Elliott Smith comes to mind - nobody has ever mixed the elements in quite the same way as Nick Drake.  There is no existing footage of him performing live, and while there are numerous excellent covers of his songs (YouTube has seemingly dozens for EACH of his original songs), somehow nothing can satisfactorily capture the magic of Nick Drake like the man himself.  Often imitated, never duplicated, and unsurpassed listening for a rainy day.

"From the Morning"