Pinned to the wall in the back room of Smile Records in Dublin is a striped blanket once worn as a poncho by Nick Drake (1948–74) during a promotional photo shoot some time towards the end of the 1960s. Drake’s untimely death at 26 – leaving only a small musical oeuvre and few surviving artefacts – concluded a short professional career thwarted by an aversion to playing live and an escalating struggle with depression.
For some, the poncho is charged with metaphorical significance, a security blanket or comforter whose frayed edges and gaping wounds map the blows from which it protected Drake throughout his difficult life. A convenient supposition, but the poncho’s function as a prop was theatrical rather than emotional: it was never actually owned by Drake, and just happened to be in the boot of photographer Julian Lloyd’s car on the day and so was put to use for the duration of the shoot.
Years passed until Gary Hill, the blanket’s current owner, rescued it from Lloyd’s dog basket. Now folded in two and flanked by a collection of ageing LP covers and magazine clippings, its condition and presentation owe more to the domestic habitat of the enthusiast than to the Hard Rock Café. And so for the fans who may have come looking for the smallest of mementoes, those hairs on the rug are more likely to have belonged to the dog than to Drake.
"Nick had a terrific sense of humour. It was as if from a very early age he could see through the absurdities of adult life - from the way in which people dress to the discrepancies between what people say and what they actually do. When I think back on his childhood, that is probably what I remember best. All those hours he and I spent together, laughing." – Molly Drake
Black Eyed Dog me parece estremecedora. La época en la que la compuso, el black eyed dog como metáfora de la depresión, la forma de cantarla que tiene. Es una canción sencilla que transmite perfectamente el desasosiego que sentía.
El lunes estaba en el trabajo y estaba la niña esta que a veces se queda conmigo, estaba escuchando Nick Drake en el ordenador y cuando sonó Black Eyed Dog la niña se paró y me preguntó que quién cantaba... le pregunté que si le gustaba y me dijo que no. Pero me extraño porque aunque le intento enseñar música diferente (es mewafan de abraham mateo y eso...) nunca presta atención ni le interesa en absoluto, pero es que se paró en seco.
Deep down in the depths of forgotten dreams So far away so long ago it seems The memory comes of a distant beach Pale sand stretching far from reach It was then I found my princess of the sand.
As I traced the foam, peebles beneath my feet I looked behind, I saw this one so sweet She came to me and I saw in her eyes The heavy toll of a thousand eyes I called her my princess of the sand.
She stared at me and my mind was in a maze As we moved along in a summer sea-dream haze She moved her mouth but there came no sound The message she brought can never be found But I called her my princess of the sand.
One moment we walked with the night breeze in our face Then I looked, she`d gone. of her presence there was no trace Where she went or came from who can know Or if she`ll ever return to help me know Who she is, my princess of the sand.
Sometime when the summer nights come back I`ll go back to the sea, follow that sandy track I`ll look around, hope to find That strange young dream, close behind I`ll call her my princess of the sand.
Mozart Clarinet Concert, Piano Sonatas KV 331 and 333 Bach Brandenburg Concertos, (his favourite was nr. 4), Goldberg Variations (Glenn Gould 1955), Italian Concerto, Air and Badinerie, Toccatas Strawinsky Le Sacre du Printemps Edvard Grieg In the Land of the Midnightsun Mussorgsky Pictures at an Exhibition (piano version) Ravel Bolero Schubert Fantasia C Major D 760 "Wandererfantasie" Beethoven Variations 'Diabelli', Piano Sonata op. 111 John Coltrane Giant Steps, A Love Supreme Charles Mingus Town Hall Concert (Tour 64), Ah Hum Miles Davis Kind of Blue, Sketches of Spain (also the classic version of Rodrigo) The Band The Big Pink Keef Hartley Band Halfbreed Emerson Lake and Palmer Pictures at an Exhibition Miller Anderson Bright City Pentangle Basket of Light, Sweet Child Fairport Convention Unhalfbricking, What we did on our Holidays Jaques Brel La Fanette 5 Leonard Cohen Songs from a Room
Well there was a man Lived in a shed Spent most of his days out of his head For his shed was rotten let in the rain Said it was enough to drive any man insane When it rained He felt so bad When it snowed he felt just simply sad
Well there was a girl who lived nearby Whenever he saw her he could only simply sigh But she lived in a house so very big and grand For him it seemed like some very distant land So when he called her His shed to mend She said I’m sorry you’ll just have to find a friend
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 Please don’t think I’m not your sort You’ll find that sheds are nicer than you thought
"To all of Nick's fans and lovers of his music I would like to post a message. Please forget the 'tragic poet' image that was attached to Nick after his death. He loved life so much and was fighting hard against his dark moods. Please do not try to explain his lyrics as his feelings only. He was very impressed with the Blues, with Blake's poems, and also with French chansons, which also sound quite melancholic. He just wanted to express his music, he didn't want to show his very inner self. He wrote songs like Parasite, Fruit Tree,.... some years before he died, when he was a fairly happy person, so the words of his songs have little to do with the disappointments and dark moods he had later in his life. (Although I have to admit that there are a few of his last songs, which are a message to certain people, who surely know.)
Most of the time of his life he was a happy person, and even when he had his bad patches he was a very lovable and soft hearted person, with whom you could never get cross. Even to me he didn't explain his lyrics that much, he thought, one should just listen and create one's own emotions. He himself paid a lot more attention to his guitar playing than to his voice. So if there is a message in his songs, it is in his guitar playing, and this is the real Nick Drake, mesmerizing, uplifting, full of spirit and power.
No puedo evitar fijarme en estas cosas, pero entonces esta muchacha que tenía 7 años menos que Nick salía con su amigo, que tendría como la misma edad, desde que ella tenía 11 años? Uh
no encuentro nada de títulos de discos, pero en el texto que puse antes Sonja habla de estos: Nick was very interested in literature too, we both used to read the same books at the same time and then discussing them for hours. We both loved Shakespeare and Blake, later on he introduced me to Keats, Byron, Shelley, Poe and other English greats.
If today were not an endless highway If tonight were not a crooked trail If tomorrow weren't such a long time Then lonesome would mean nothing to me at all
And only if my own true love were waiting for me And if I could hear her heart softly pounding If only she was lying by me Then I'd lie in my bed once again
I can't see my reflection in the water Can't speak the sounds that show no pain I can't hear the echo of my footsteps Can't remember the sound of my own name
And only if my own true love were waiting for me And if I could hear he heart softly pound If only she was lying by me Then I'd sleep in my bed once again
There's beauty in the silver, singing river There's beauty in the sunrise in the sky None of these and nothing else can touch the beauty That I remember in my true love's eyes
And only if my own true love were waiting for me And if I could hear he heart softly pounding If only she was lying by me And she could lie in my bed once again
pues como algunos sabeis, este fin de semana fui a visitar la tumba de Nick Drake en Tanworh in Arden.
He de decir que yo en realidad no soy fan de su música (aunque me gusta, y me gustará mucho más) pero conozco su biografía y me parece fascinante.
Bueno, pues el pueblo queda a unos 12 km del sur de Birmingham. éstá en Warwickshire pero bastante más cerca de Birmingham que de Warwick. puerta a iglesia en coche nos llevó 25 min máximo. El pueblo es el típico pueblo de ricos en el que todas las casas están cuidadísimas y tienes unos jardines increíbles con amapolas etc y todo muy bien pintado y limpio. muy de clase media. muy de abogados y médicos, de coches antiguos y deportivos. más clase media no se puede, de verdad, y dudo mucho que una sola casa del pueblo baje del medio millón de libras. en el pueblo que yo viera solo hay una peluquería y un pub. el pub en plan moderno-cool, de esos que fijo que ofrecen algo con chorizo en el menú (aunque también sirven cortezas de cerdo para que los habitantes no pierdan el norte y se acuerden de que quizás alguna vez fueron clase obrera). Además, manda huevos, el único pub no se llama Pink Moon. se llama The Bell. muy mal.
La tumba de Nick tiene una lápida bastante diminuta y ya bastante erosionada. esto ya lo sabreis todos. también hay un cartel creo que en madera, pegado al roble, en el que la familia Drake pide que se dejen flores o notas pero no objetos junto a la tumba.
yo sin ser fan del todo, me emocioné un poco.
respecto a la actitud de Gabrielle (que estudió en un cole de chicas bastante de élite donde ahora estudia Malala a 1km de mi casa ypor el que paso a diario) pues estoy con @bikinikill es inglesa que eso ayuda a mantener la compostura. si fuera griega sería otro cantar, pero cierto es que los británicos saben guardar las formas muy bien en estos menesteres. vivan los tópicos.
Ya veo que habéis hablado por privado. Estaba pensando por qué Slavin no estaba hiperventilando. No le dije nada antes para darle una lidl lidl surprise. @joinmyclub es nuestra Gloria Serra particular ♥ Próxima misión: reportaje a fondo de la casa donde vivió y murió. Con cierta distancia, porque allí hace mucho que vive otra familia. Gracias por la descripción del vecindario donde se crió. Supongo que en su época no sería diferente. Ayuda a hacerse una idea de sus circunstancias personales, sus frustraciones y de cómo pasaría sus últimos años allí.
@bikinikill por esa calle paseamos a la perra de arriba abajo pero no me di cuenta de buscarla. el pueblo seguro que no cambió nada de nada pero seguro que ahora es más de ricos que antes. desde luego Nick era de clase media.
otro día os hago crónica de mi visita a la casa museo de las hermanas Bronte!
Una conocida se acaba de echar un novio súper fan de Nick Drake y también han hecho el recorrido de la tumba, etcétera. En verdad, me hace mucha ilusión que siga saliendo el nombre de Nick frecuentemente...
ya me extrañaría... el otro dia estaba de cena en casa de mi padre con unos amigos, supuestamente músicos y les puse a nick drake y una me preguntó que si ese era del último disco que había sacado... me quedé un poco flipando y me dijo ah no! creía que era nick cave! como si sonaran parecido y tal
Comentarios
Pinned to the wall in the back room of Smile Records in Dublin is a striped blanket once worn as a poncho by Nick Drake (1948–74) during a promotional photo shoot some time towards the end of the 1960s. Drake’s untimely death at 26 – leaving only a small musical oeuvre and few surviving artefacts – concluded a short professional career thwarted by an aversion to playing live and an escalating struggle with depression.
For some, the poncho is charged with metaphorical significance, a security blanket or comforter whose frayed edges and gaping wounds map the blows from which it protected Drake throughout his difficult life. A convenient supposition, but the poncho’s function as a prop was theatrical rather than emotional: it was never actually owned by Drake, and just happened to be in the boot of photographer Julian Lloyd’s car on the day and so was put to use for the duration of the shoot.
Years passed until Gary Hill, the blanket’s current owner, rescued it from Lloyd’s dog basket. Now folded in two and flanked by a collection of ageing LP covers and magazine clippings, its condition and presentation owe more to the domestic habitat of the enthusiast than to the Hard Rock Café. And so for the fans who may have come looking for the smallest of mementoes, those hairs on the rug are more likely to have belonged to the dog than to Drake.
Rich Hughes
Nick (sitting) with friends in Aix-en-Provence.
– Molly Drake
Anuncio que en el año 2000 redescubrió a Nick Drake para el gran público
So far away so long ago it seems
The memory comes of a distant beach
Pale sand stretching far from reach
It was then I found my princess of the sand.
As I traced the foam, peebles beneath my feet
I looked behind, I saw this one so sweet
She came to me and I saw in her eyes
The heavy toll of a thousand eyes
I called her my princess of the sand.
She stared at me and my mind was in a maze
As we moved along in a summer sea-dream haze
She moved her mouth but there came no sound
The message she brought can never be found
But I called her my princess of the sand.
One moment we walked with the night breeze in our face
Then I looked, she`d gone. of her presence there was no trace
Where she went or came from who can know
Or if she`ll ever return to help me know
Who she is, my princess of the sand.
Sometime when the summer nights come back
I`ll go back to the sea, follow that sandy track
I`ll look around, hope to find
That strange young dream, close behind
I`ll call her my princess of the sand.
Mozart Clarinet Concert, Piano Sonatas KV 331 and 333
Bach Brandenburg Concertos, (his favourite was nr. 4), Goldberg Variations
(Glenn Gould 1955), Italian Concerto, Air and Badinerie, Toccatas
Strawinsky Le Sacre du Printemps
Edvard Grieg In the Land of the Midnightsun
Mussorgsky Pictures at an Exhibition (piano version)
Ravel Bolero
Schubert Fantasia C Major D 760 "Wandererfantasie"
Beethoven Variations 'Diabelli', Piano Sonata op. 111
John Coltrane Giant Steps, A Love Supreme
Charles Mingus Town Hall Concert (Tour 64), Ah Hum
Miles Davis Kind of Blue, Sketches of Spain (also the classic version of Rodrigo)
The Band The Big Pink
Keef Hartley Band Halfbreed
Emerson Lake and Palmer Pictures at an Exhibition
Miller Anderson Bright City
Pentangle Basket of Light, Sweet Child
Fairport Convention Unhalfbricking, What we did on our Holidays
Jaques Brel La Fanette 5
Leonard Cohen Songs from a Room
Lived in a shed
Spent most of his days out of his head
For his shed was rotten let in the rain
Said it was enough to drive any man insane
When it rained
He felt so bad
When it snowed he felt just simply sad
Well there was a girl who lived nearby
Whenever he saw her he could only simply sigh
But she lived in a house so very big and grand
For him it seemed like some very distant land
So when he called her
His shed to mend
She said I’m sorry you’ll just have to find a friend
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
Please don’t think I’m not your sort
You’ll find that sheds are nicer than you thought
"To all of Nick's fans and lovers of his music I would like to post a message.
Please forget the 'tragic poet' image that was attached to Nick after his death. He loved life so much and was fighting hard against his dark moods. Please do not try to explain his lyrics as his feelings only. He was very impressed with the Blues, with Blake's poems, and also with French chansons, which also sound quite melancholic.
He just wanted to express his music, he didn't want to show his very inner self. He wrote songs like Parasite, Fruit Tree,.... some years before he died, when he was a fairly happy person, so the words of his songs have little to do with the disappointments and dark moods he had later in his life. (Although I have to admit that there are a few of his last songs, which are a message to certain people, who surely know.)
Most of the time of his life he was a happy person, and even when he had his bad patches he was a very lovable and soft hearted person, with whom you could never get cross. Even to me he didn't explain his lyrics that much, he thought, one should just listen and create one's own emotions. He himself paid a lot more attention to his guitar playing than to his voice. So if there is a message in his songs, it is in his guitar playing, and this is the real Nick Drake, mesmerizing, uplifting, full of spirit and power.
♥ lloro mucho
Sobre la hermana: es inglesa, han pasado 39 años y está hablando para los medios. Ella guarda la compostura.
Nick was very interested in literature too, we both used to read the same books at the same time and then discussing them for hours. We both loved Shakespeare and Blake, later on he introduced me to Keats, Byron, Shelley, Poe and other English greats.
en la fnac de Málaga
If today were not an endless highway
If tonight were not a crooked trail
If tomorrow weren't such a long time
Then lonesome would mean nothing to me at all
And only if my own true love were waiting for me
And if I could hear her heart softly pounding
If only she was lying by me
Then I'd lie in my bed once again
I can't see my reflection in the water
Can't speak the sounds that show no pain
I can't hear the echo of my footsteps
Can't remember the sound of my own name
And only if my own true love were waiting for me
And if I could hear he heart softly pound
If only she was lying by me
Then I'd sleep in my bed once again
There's beauty in the silver, singing river
There's beauty in the sunrise in the sky
None of these and nothing else can touch the beauty
That I remember in my true love's eyes
And only if my own true love were waiting for me
And if I could hear he heart softly pounding
If only she was lying by me
And she could lie in my bed once again
me muero cuando se le escucha reírse en las canciones (1:46)
He de decir que yo en realidad no soy fan de su música (aunque me gusta, y me gustará mucho más) pero conozco su biografía y me parece fascinante.
Bueno, pues el pueblo queda a unos 12 km del sur de Birmingham. éstá en Warwickshire pero bastante más cerca de Birmingham que de Warwick. puerta a iglesia en coche nos llevó 25 min máximo. El pueblo es el típico pueblo de ricos en el que todas las casas están cuidadísimas y tienes unos jardines increíbles con amapolas etc y todo muy bien pintado y limpio. muy de clase media. muy de abogados y médicos, de coches antiguos y deportivos. más clase media no se puede, de verdad, y dudo mucho que una sola casa del pueblo baje del medio millón de libras. en el pueblo que yo viera solo hay una peluquería y un pub. el pub en plan moderno-cool, de esos que fijo que ofrecen algo con chorizo en el menú (aunque también sirven cortezas de cerdo para que los habitantes no pierdan el norte y se acuerden de que quizás alguna vez fueron clase obrera). Además, manda huevos, el único pub no se llama Pink Moon. se llama The Bell. muy mal.
La tumba de Nick tiene una lápida bastante diminuta y ya bastante erosionada. esto ya lo sabreis todos. también hay un cartel creo que en madera, pegado al roble, en el que la familia Drake pide que se dejen flores o notas pero no objetos junto a la tumba.
yo sin ser fan del todo, me emocioné un poco.
respecto a la actitud de Gabrielle (que estudió en un cole de chicas bastante de élite donde ahora estudia Malala a 1km de mi casa ypor el que paso a diario) pues estoy con @bikinikill es inglesa que eso ayuda a mantener la compostura. si fuera griega sería otro cantar, pero cierto es que los británicos saben guardar las formas muy bien en estos menesteres. vivan los tópicos.
@joinmyclub es nuestra Gloria Serra particular ♥ Próxima misión: reportaje a fondo de la casa donde vivió y murió. Con cierta distancia, porque allí hace mucho que vive otra familia.
Gracias por la descripción del vecindario donde se crió. Supongo que en su época no sería diferente. Ayuda a hacerse una idea de sus circunstancias personales, sus frustraciones y de cómo pasaría sus últimos años allí.
Edit: Olvi, que es de bromi!
Ayer lloré un poquito cuando vi la foto. Luego me extiendo que mi móvil sucks
otro día os hago crónica de mi visita a la casa museo de las hermanas Bronte!
lo dejo aquí para verlo luego, el año que viene voy sea como sea.
https://www.facebook.com/nickdrakegathering
http://jenesaispop.com/2014/06/12/192005/beyonce-hace-un-playlist-para-los-nacidos-en-junio/
el otro dia estaba de cena en casa de mi padre con unos amigos, supuestamente músicos y les puse a nick drake y una me preguntó que si ese era del último disco que había sacado... me quedé un poco flipando y me dijo ah no! creía que era nick cave!
como si sonaran parecido y tal
:_
http://nickdrake.moonfruit.com