(Island, 1972)
Hear a man disappear in less than 30 minutes.
As time floats on, Pink Moon feels more and more like Drake’s best record. By contrast – but, of course, only by Drake’s Olympian standards – Five Leaves Left seems whimsical and Bryter Layter (sepulchral sleeve pic notwithstanding) sounds like over-arranged attention-seeking. Since the commercial failure of the latter, clinical depression had gnawed at Drake, and he’d moved back in with his parents, staring at the walls for days. In late 1971, he left Pink Moon at Island Records’ reception desk, a moving last testament that eschewed sweetening adornments. It was just Drake, his guitar playing harder, less elegant than before and in his voice a kind of hollow, drugged laugh at the world. On the title track, he sings “pink, pink, pink, pink, pink” lower and lower until, way south of his comfortable register, he seems merely to groan. Soon he would tell his sister Gabrielle “I’ve got no more songs”, and by Christmas 1974 he would be dead.
Danny Eccleston
Posted by Danny_Eccleston at 6:00 AM GMT 04/01/2008
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