Here I am under a tree by the grave bearing the ashes of
Nick Drake who was an introverted singer-songwriter who gained nearly all his
fame after his death aged 26. It’s
behind a picturesque church in a sleepy village called Tanworth-In-Arden,
Warwickshire. It’s been well visited over the years by fans from all over the
world though there’s a sign up asking people not to leave gifts.
Not far from
this trees sits the family home where Nick learned to play piano and compose
songs as a lad. He recorded it on reel-to-reel tape recorder kept in the family
drawing room. Both his middle-class parents were musical. His dad Rodney had
spent years working overseas for the Bombay Burmah
Trading Corporation. Here he met Mary and in 1950 they returned to England to
live in a large family home called Far Leys. Though Rodney was a big earner as
Managing Director of Wolseley Engineering he could not buy happiness for his
son.
Nick was sent
to a preparatory boarding school in Berkshire. Here aged 16 he formed a band
with four school friends, The Perfumed Gardeners. The singer Chris de Burgh was
there and asked to join the band but taste was "too poppy" and he was
rejected. Chums recall Nick being confident, "quietly authoritative",
often aloof and difficult to get to know. His studies suffered as he delved
deeper into music yet he still passed seven GCE O-Levels. He the Head Boy yet
later the headmaster would say he found Nick inscrutable. As his dad, grand-dad
and great granddad had done he attended Marlborough College in Wiltshire. He spent
six months at the University of Aix-Marseille in France, a guitar attached to
him most of the time. Here he began to smoke cannabis and LSD, possibly the
biggest mistake of his life (as it seems to make some people go a little mad.)
Aged 18 he
enrolled at a Fitzwilliam College in Cambridge but he didn’t seem interested
and staff found him difficulty connecting with him. The college was well-known
for its highly competitive rugby and cricket teams but Nick usually stayed in
his room smoking cannabis while listening to music. A pot-smoking
guitar-strumming hippie kind of lifestyle followed but what made Nick different
from the others who followed this path? While playing in local clubs and coffee
houses around London he was noticed by the bass player with Fairport
Convention. He saw that not only was he technically immaculate on the guitar he
looked like a star and his songs were soulful. Nick was introduced to the owner
of a production company working for Island Records and four songs he’d recorded
on his reel-to-reel tape in his room at college led to the 20-year-old being offered
a contract. The melancholic moody dude was uncharacteristically visibly
excited. This was his break.
I won’t run
through his career here but it started when Nick was 20 with his debut album Five Leaves Left. It didn’t sell well
and was considered too mournful like its creator. He terminated his studies at Cambridge nine
months before graduation and moved to London (to this parent’s disappointment.)
He stayed at his sister's Kensington flat but drifted around sleeping on sofas
and floors. In October 1969 he was on a proper stage opening a concert for
Fairport Convention at the Royal Festival Hall in London. He appeared at folk
clubs but the few folkies in attendance weren’t enamoured: the introverted
singer didn’t say a word all evening, wouldn’t make eye contact, just played
and the experience was so awkward for player and viewer.
Where did the
mental descent start? The mentor who’d given Nick a chance at his production
company sold up and moved to Los Angeles. This loss compounded by poor record
sales pulled Nick down. He lost his nerve and was visibly nervous and
uncomfortable at a series of concerts in 1970. At a concert at Ewell Technical
College in Surrey he stopped playing Fruit
Tree and walked off stage. Something was so profoundly wrong the
23-year-old was persuaded to visit a psychiatrist who prescribed
antidepressants but he turned in on himself. He only left his flat to do the
odd performance or buy drugs. He’d graduated to cannabis which but drives some
people bonkers - Nick was one of them. He was smoking piles of it - enough to
spark flashes of psychosis. Intensely shy he might go into the recording studio
and not make eye contact with anyone. There were no close friends and
relationships with girlfriends went unconsummated
Island records
didn’t expect a third album but Pink Moon
was finished, eleven bleak songs lasting 28 minutes that mirrored Nick’s mind.
It sold less than previous albums, not helped by Nick’s unwillingness to
promote it. Disheartened and in a fog drugs he cut himself off from people and
returned to live at his parents' home in Tanworth-in-Arden.
Here he lived off a £20/week retainer from Island Records and had holes in his
shoes. He’d turn up unannounced at friend’s houses and be withdrawn, quiet and simply
look through his host with little connection. Sometimes he’d drive his mum’s
car without a purpose or destination and have to ring her when the tank was
empty. His well-to-do well-meaning parents and sister looked with on bewildered
helplessness.
Early in 1972
Nick was put in hospital for five weeks after a nervous breakdown. Two years
drifted by and he was ready to make music again. However in autumn 1974 the
£20/week wages from Island Records stopped. A week before he committed suicide
his best female friend but not girlfriend Sophia Ryde sought to end their
tenuous relationship. This chap was a suicide waiting to happen. In the early
hours of Monday 25th November 1974 at the family home his rose in
the night. This was nothing new as he kept strange hours. His mum heard her son
go down to the kitchen. They were none of the usual noises of him pouring
cereal and returning to his room. The sun rose and nothing seemed unusual. Nick
wasn’t up but he often stayed in bed till noon. However when the housemaid
looked in on Nick at 11:45am she found his dead body lying across the bed. He’d
taken approximately 30 antidepressant pills. The doctor who was called said
he’d been dead for hour. The coroner concluded a verdict of suicide which was
probably accurate as friends and family said Nick had given up on life.
He was
cremated at Solihull Crematorium and his ashes later interred under the oak
tree after a service in the Church of St Mary Magdalene where I’m stood (his
parent’s ashes are here, too.) About fifty mourners were in attendance and Nick’s
life was so compartmentalised that many of his friends met for the first time
that morning. The death didn’t make an impact on the main newspapers. Lord
Lucan’s recent absence was still big news. Nick’s profile scudded along the
bottom of the world of music through the 1970s but in the 1980s his parents
reported they were receiving an increasing number of fans and admirers at their
home. Slowly the albums mushroomed to gain cult status and appeared on Rolling Stone magazine's list of “The
500 Greatest Albums of All Time.” When Nick released the albums they each sold
less than 5,000 copies despite people telling him he was a genius. I wonder
what he’d make of it now.
I had a saunter around the graveyard
which neighbours some allotments. As I took a few photographs one of the look
up from their spades with an expression that said, “Here’s yet another geek.” A
blue plaque has recently been bolted onto Far Leys where Nick died.
As I’m a geek I also visited
Solihull Crematorium where Nick was turned to dust forever. I knew there was
nothing there to see but I just wanted to see the building where the service
was held and the chimney through which a few particles of Nick passed through.
I did a hearty salute and left.
Back out on the road. The view from
the church…
Far Leys where Nick lived and died…
Nick’s bedroom where he died…
The view from his window…
At Solihull Cemetery where Nick was
cremated…
The chimney of the crematorium which
emitted some particles of Nick. Hope you find happiness in the afterlife,
buddy…
From another fan...