“Five Leaves Left” take its name from a brand of English cigarettes that had markings on the inside of the pack indicating when only five butts remained. Ironically, Drake’s entire career only spanned five years, from this debut in 1969 to his suicide or accidental death in 1974. “Five Leaves Left” is a benchmark album that continues to influences many artists, including present day singer-songwriters Beth Orton, Alexi Murdoch and Drake’s former sideman, Richard Thompson.

The opening cut, “Time Has Told Me,” is less impressive than what follows, but gives a good indication of Drake’s poetic lyrics, proper English phrasing, and his instantly recognizable complex fingering technique. Session men Thompson (guitar), Paul Harris (piano) and Danny Thompson (upright bass) are an impressive trio with an understanding for Drake’s emotional and romantic compositions.

“River Man,” is a stunning work, with a gorgeous, swirling string arrangement by Harry Robinson, who specialized in mixing classical music with folk. The strings represent the ebb and flow of the river, rising and falling in concert with Drake’s forlorn lyrics: “Going to see the river man, gonna tell him all I can, about the ban on feeling free. If he tells me all he knows, about the way his river flows, I don’t suppose it’s meant for me.” Drake’s voice buzzes and hums, matching the arrangement. Drake was an understated vocalist who never screamed, and never had to. His intuitive ability to convey his despair and the haunting sincerity in his voice recalls his equally tragic and misunderstood American counterpart Tim Buckley (Jeff Buckley’s father). Buckley spent his entire career searching for the proper vehicle for his magnificent voice – all you have to do is listen to this album to know he’d found the right style.

“Three Hours” is another highlight, a striking, Englishman meets Marrakesh arrangement accentuated by Drake plucking away on his guitar like a whirling dervish, Rocki Dzidzornu’s controlled congas and Danny Thompson’s mysterious upright bass. You can almost smell the smoke from the hookah.

With its dramatic strings arranged by Robert Kirby, “Way To Blue,” isn’t in the same lofty class as “River Man” or “Three Hours,” but it isn’t a throwaway either. Drake strongly objected to having his music set against strings – he wanted nothing more than his acoustic guitar and voice. Kirby’s stunning, but overbearing arrangement for “Way to Blue” makes a case for Drake’s argument. Drake’s hushed delivery can’t stack up against the fusillade of strings – at times he seems to disappear altogether. It’s still a dazzling effort though. (Producer Joe Boyd finally relented on “Pink Moon,” which save for a few bits of piano on the title track is all acoustic. It was also Drake’s weakest effort and poorest seller. Be careful what you wish for, Nick.) “Day is Done” has a similar woe begotten tone but is more effective, with Kirby’s strings showing a lot more restraint.

“Cello Song” is another Drake work of art. As the title suggests, it features a humming, mesmerizing cello solo by Clare Lowther, but its Drake’s dynamic acoustic guitar intro that will leave you saying “Whoa! How does he do that?” Drake’s frail, whistful vocal also helps to set the melancholy mood. Lowther’s cello takes flight like Icarus toward the sun when Drake whispers, “So forget this cruel world, where I belong. I’ll just sit and wait, and sing my song. And if one day you see me in the crowd, lend a hand and lift me – to your place in the clouds.” Drake seems to sense that if dares to reach out for happiness or asks for help in coping with his depression he’ll burn like Icarus. Too bad he was right.

Anything that followed “Cello Song” was bound to be a bit of a letdown, but “Thoughts of Mary Jane” succeeds because it follows an adult theme with an almost sunny child-like subject. A cute, flute embellished arrangement and Drake’s blissful soloing show that Nick wasn’t all doom and gloom. “Man in a Shed” also catches Drake in a rare flippant moment. The off-kilter story of the neighborhood weirdo, “Man In A Shed” gives pianist Paul Harris a chance to stretch his digits. The most amusing and ironic aspect of the song is when Drake reveals he’s the man in the shed, who’s “spent most of his days out of his head.”

“Fruit Tree” puts Drake back in the shoes of a forlorn poet. Drake’s voice is more direct, and telling, as are his lyrics: “Forgotten while you’re here, remembered for a while. A much updated ruin, from a much outdated style.” The guy was already feeling the heat.
The final cut, the lazy “Saturday Sun,” is a mixture of hope and sadness, much like its composer. Tristan Fry dances along on the vibes, his final notes fading with the effect of the last sustained note in the Beatles “A Day In A Life.”

Drake never came to grips with his failure to attain stardom. He did a half dozen or so gigs with Fairport Convention and John Martyn in support of “Five Leaves Left,” and never played live again. Settling into isolation, he composed the relatively celebratory (for him) “Bryter Layter,” a magical mix of fairy tale instrumentals and semi-biographical folk and jazz. The public ignored it, crushing Drake’s spirit. To make matters worse, Joe Boyd, his protector, friend, and producer, left the Witchseason label shortly after it was sold to Island Records. Drake began taking anti-depressants in an effort to cope which left him a motionless blank, unable to interact or speak above a mumble. Drake’s fog lifted long enough for him to record the “Pink Moon” album, which he completed in a rare flurry of determination in two nights. Month long stays in psychiatric hospitals, and trips to Paris and Los Angeles only delayed the inevitable. On November 25, 1974, Nick Drake’s mother, Molly, tried to wake him from what she thought was a deep sleep. He’d overdosed either intentionally or accidentally on Tryptizol, unaware that 25 years down the road, thanks to a commercial, he’d sell as many records in a day as he had in his entire lifetime.

Very few tortured artists win the battle for their soul. The Band’s Richard Manual, tired of the road, writer’s block and raging alcoholism hung himself; informed that his next drink could be his last and forbidden to tour, The Grateful Dead’s keyboardist, Ron “Pigpen” McKernan packed his booze and played Europe; convinced he was the target of devil worshippers, Brit Blues founder Graham Bond stepped in front of a train, and heroin embalmed Free guitarist Paul Kossoff was so sure he wanted to die he had a heart attack at age 25, died for 45 minutes, and lived for another year before his heart burst. Fleetwood Mac founder Peter Green left HUGE clues he was going off the deep end in virtually every song on his superb swansong with the group, “Then Play On,” then proved his instability by donning a kaftan, growing a Rasputin-like beard and tossing vats of cash into the concert crowds. He survived. Sadly, by the time Drake recorded “Pink Moon” he may have well known he’d already lost the battle for his sanity, or he didn’t care. Nick Drake didn’t make it, but “Five Leaves Left” has survived him – and that’s really all he ever wanted in the first place. A superb legacy.

Posted January 17, 2007 Permalink