So, I'm going through and updating all of my year playlists with some new albums. I've also been revisiting quite a few a long the way, and, I have to say, that Deerhunter is still peak indie music. I don't even like to refer to it as such, because that label tends to have negative connotations to some people. This one is surely a banger.
As a passing fan of Nick Drake, never a true acolyte of the mysterious and tragic figure, I'd always considered Bryter Later to be the highlight of his discography. I liked the jazzier backing music accompanied by Drake's plaintive folk singer-songwriter thing, and I never thought too critically about it, because I generally know what I like musically. I've always appreciated the other two albums, but I never thought that they were anything more than good for what they are.
The overwhelmingly positive regard of Pink Moon had always perplexed me. I'm sure I started listening to Nick Drake sometime around 14, maybe 15. At that time, and probably into my early twenties, I always chalked it up to "people just praise sad shit." (Which, even before this recent relisten, I’ve mostly gone away from having that opinion about things.) For some reason, I don't find myself to be as emotionally affected by music as I might be to a great piece of writing or a great film. Even then, I'm not really emotionally reactive to many things at all. For better or for worse, like a lot of men, I wasn't raised that way.*
*Let’s pack that away for another time.
Over the past, oh I don't know, 6 or 7 years, I don't think I've listened to the album in full one time. I would hear "Pink Moon '' on my 1972 playlist, hell even on my 550 greatest songs playlist that I made a year and a half ago, and I'd just think to myself "yeah, this is good". I hadn't felt any reason to listen to the album, in its entirety again, because I already "knew" what it was about. I was content.
So, last week, I’m listening to my 1972 playlist, because there was an album that I had added to it awhile ago that I hadn’t gotten around to yet. Here is the album.
This album is by “Crazy World of Arthur Brown” bassist Nicholas Greenwood. Greenwood was also a part of a kinda Prog Rock supergroup called “Khan” with guitarist Steve Hillage. (They released one album, “Space Shanty” which is some great prog if you like that kind of thing.) Anyways, this was Greenwood’s debut album, and it is a bombastic mixture of prog with some blues and jazz elements thrown in. (Bunk Gardner from the Mother of Invention plays on this too!) I thought it would be a good album to listen to while I cooked, because there’s a bunch of meat on the cover, so I was passively listening to this as I was making a delicious alfredo. I liked the album; however, it was wearing out its welcome by the end. Also, as if I haven’t added in enough tertiary information at this point, the album is worth several thousand dollars, so pick up a copy if you ever happen to see it. I'm not kidding. https://www.discogs.com/release/5105855-Nicholas-Greenwood-Cold-Cuts
Now, perhaps some of the more keen observers have already figured out where this is going. I was washing my cookware when Nicholas Greenwood’s album ended. So, being as though my playlist is sorted by artist name, the next song I was hearing was “Pink Moon”. As previously mentioned, this is the only song from this album that had gotten much play from me over the past half a decade or so. Because I was preoccupied, I did not have the ability to change to anything else, so the next song came on, and the next, and so on. I finished washing the dishes, and I went to take a sit in my recliner.
I was listening to the album by accident, and I think that might have been the best possible way for this to happen. Each song passed like I was hearing it for the first time. It might as well have been the first time. Here is a transcript of my inner monologue during this time.
Oh shit that was good.
Whoa that was gr—
Damn! this was better than the last…
oh man, OH SHIT, OH NO I’m an idiot!
It was one of those cataclysmic ego-destroying moments in which I categorically questioned everything that I’ve ever done.
“Should I be wearing boxers instead of briefs?”
“Why did go to bed so late last night?”
“Am I a good friend?”
“Am I doing the best that I can?”
“Should I have asked out that girl that said she liked Primus my freshman year of college?”
“Should I have paid more attention to Nick Drake?”
etc.
The “Pink Moon” synapses and neurons, that had long remained dormant, had switched-on and truly connected for the first time.
Meanwhile, I’m frantically reading through Drake’s wikipedia page trying to remember what exactly happened to him, and remember some background on the album. Of course I see that he was 26 years old when he passed, and that sends a shiver right through me. I’m sitting here, 27 years old, shuffling through life, complacent, tired. And, as I sat there collecting my thoughts, I could add another word to that list.
Exposed.
Listening to this album, it almost felt wrong, like I was violating a boundary that I shouldn't. But I kept listening on. The boundary had been crossed, and it was impossible do anything else, but devote my entire being to it. Compelling, intimate, authentic. The epitome of auditory voyeurism.
But, as much as I felt that I was looking in on Drake, I felt just as violated, because (and if this sounds too cliche, I’m sorry) I could tell that he was looking as much at me in my intimacy. There was no mirror being held up to myself, but a finger pointed in my direction like, “yeah, you too.”
I felt sick.
It wasn’t pity for Drake.
It wasn’t self-pity.
It wasn’t bad alfredo.
It wasn’t that the limits of his lifetime did not afford him enough time to realize his potential, because he released this masterpiece.
No, I felt sick, because I had been wrong. And it takes a lot for me to admit when I’m wrong. It could be maturity or divine intervention, maybe a little of both. I’ve always felt so confident in my opinions, musical or otherwise, that they rarely change. But stubbornness is not a trait that I would want to admit that I have, and Nick Drake was making me admit this to myself.
This is not just some “sad shit.” Not in the slightest. Well, OK, there are certainly some lyrically dark moments on this album, but to call it “depressing” or any other multitude of negative RYM descriptors is juvenile. It’s like calling William Blake poetry “depressing”.
It seems well-documented that Drake found a kindred spirit in the enigmatic Blake, and I could not think of a more appropriate pair. Like a Blake poem, the symbolism on Pink Moon is starkly simple, raw. (The stripped down musical form could be parallel to Blake’s poetic form too.)
The moon, the sun, and other celestial bodies being the symbolic motifs that appear throughout the album. As I stated earlier, I felt like Drake is calling the listener out. Calling me out. I don’t see this as a depressed figure but a disillusioned one.
Blake was free of the shackles of convention that his contemporaries were slaves to. His artisitc and emotional expression spanned both Divine and Luciferian creation. Good and evil. It wasn’t all one or the other, but it was always a battle between both. Blake’s monumental Songs of Innocence and Experience is the first and last word on dichotomy and paradox. But perhaps Drake’s Pink Moon should be the second.
Ok, as I’ve just now realized that I’ve written about 1300 words so far, I’m going to just present some lyrical evidence here:
Track 1 “Pink Moon”
“And none of you stand so tall
Pink moon gonna get ye all”
Track 3 “Road”
“You can say the sun is shining if you really want to
I can see the moon and it seems so clear”
Track 4 “ Which Will”
“Which will you go for?
Which will you love?
Which will you choose from
From the stars above?
Which will you answer?
Which will you call?
Which will you take for
For your one and all?
[Chorus]
And tell me now
Which will you love the best?”
I could keep going on, but YOU can probably tell what’s going on here, so let me play English teacher here for a moment.
Every single song on this album has the word you in it. Every damn one. Now, one of the problems with the second person in conventional writing is that it can sound accusatory to the reader. I now know why I’ve been feeling that Drake is talking to me, because he literally is. Not every mention of you is in this accusatory sense, but there are certainly some instances where it seems he’s directly addressing the listener.
After some quick research, I found only a poem or two where Blake uses “you”, but that’s not surprising. As unconventional as Blake was, I don’t think many poets would be writing in second person at that time. The poem that does use “you” is a poem full of paradoxes called “Auguries of Innocence”.
It was written after Songs of Innocence and Experience, but it follows some of the same formula.
“He who Doubts from what he sees
Will neer Believe do what you Please
If the Sun & Moon should Doubt
Theyd immediately Go out
To be in a Passion you Good may Do
But no Good if a Passion is in you”
I didn’t really set out to write an actual analytical essay here, so I’ll let you just read that and draw your own conclusions. It’s worth noting that the sun and moon are in there as a bonus. On top of that, this poem has a great deal of appreciation of God’s natural world, another feature of Drake’s lyricism on Pink Moon.
I saved the most accusatory of statements from this album for last.
Track 8 “Parasite
“Take a look, you may see me on the ground
For I am the parasite of this town
And take a look, you may see me in the dirt
For I am the parasite who hangs from your skies”
Track 9 “Free Ride”
“I know you
I care too
I see through
All of the pictures that you keep on the wall
All of the people that will come to the ball”
Those final lines of “Parasite” give me the same feelings of the Blake classic London. Drake and Blake can both recognize suffering and empathize. They also know that others may choose to look and ignore.
I think both of them were attempting to give their perspective of the world as it seemed to them, but very few ended up listening. (At least during their lifetimes.)
Anyways, uh, symbolism. Sun and moon. Night and day. Life and death. Ending and beginning. I’m not going to get too far into that, because I’ve written way more than I figured I would.
I don’t have a neat way to wrap this up, so I’ll be brief.
I used to not like this album, but now I like it a lot.
Hey all you people out there in BEAland! Welcome to something that will probably last a week or two, and then never be picked up again. This issue we're going to talk about covers. The ones you sleep in, the ones you go under, the ones you're charged, and the ones by rock bands.
Up first are The Residents with their covers of The Beatles "Hey Jude", and The Rolling Stones "Satisfaction". (Although they do change the lyrics on "Satisfaction" a bit, it's nearly the same song).
I think the best covers come as a surprise. I remember listening to this album for the first time, and, since I don't generally look at the track names, I had no idea that this song was even on it. Then you hear those iconic lyrics, and it's a bit jarring. Love the twin "Iron Maiden-style" guitar harmony on this album, and especially on this cover. Mimics those strings surprisingly well.
I had a similar experience with Type O Negative's cover of "Cinammon Girl" the first time I listened to October Rust. I love it when album an can surprise you with an "Oh shit! I know that song!" moment.
And of course, I cannot bring up self-proclaimed "Beatles freaks" Type O Negative without mentioning their Beatles medley that caps off their album World Coming Down. I like their version of "I Want You (She's So Heavy" here better than the one by Coroner. (Which is good as well, but doesn't quite do it justice as much as this cover does).
Lemmy and Bowie both died within a week or two of eachother, so I'd be interested to know if Lemmy had him on his mind. (Given that both were dying of cancer when he would've recorded this.) A really thoughtful and well done cover, of an oft-covered song. Thanks Lemmy!
I thought this was the thread where Chief does drum covers of his favourite songs 😁 But I'll take this as well.
There are so many metal covers of non-metal songs (both terrible and great) you could make a separate project just for that. Motorhead's Heroes is among the coolest ones certainly, and pretty sad given the circumstances.
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