Hooray! We’re going out of sequence with my master plan for No Skips, the weekly column where I judge an album per track to see if any are skippable. This week, we’re taking a glimpse at Nick Drake’s “Pink Moon,” the singer’s final album before his passing at 26 years old. Although it harbors a tragic backstory and is also my favorite album of all time, I’ll try to talk about this one with an objective lens, though this may not occur.
At less than half an hour in length and using the same acoustic style throughout, one may wonder how “Pink Moon” offers more to enjoy than any other album out there. The same critique can be made for Earl Sweatshirt’s “Some Rap Songs,” which also falls short in length and variety, yet it’s my second favorite album. To settle any confusion, I will point to one attribute consistent across these records: emotional potency.
I’ve written about “Some Rap Songs” far too much over the years to review it on this column, but one more comparison I’ll make with it and “Pink Moon” is that both artists severely suffered from depression, and it manifests in the music big time. In “Pink Moon,” however, Drake sounds incredibly at peace considering that he overdosed on antidepressants three years after the album’s recording. Without this knowledge, you would never guess this would be his demise based on the music alone.
The lyrically-sparse title track is a two-minute reflection on the ambiguous “pink moon” that defines the abstract album cover and, more loosely, the album itself. The song’s first minute was thankfully picked up by Volkswagen in 1999 for a commercial that catapulted Drake’s legacy and posthumous success, but he was never terribly popular during his lifetime.
“Place to Be” waivers on both metaphorical and observational, as Drake sings “I never saw the truth hanging from the door” and “Now I’m weaker than the palest blue.” To get a grasp of Drake’s melancholy—at a height on this album without the usual band accompanying his vocals—you have to listen, as I cannot articulate what it makes listeners feel. Although, this song’s split focus on his guitar work and singing is wonderful.
“Road” contains that defining twang of most folk songs, yet it exceeds expectations in every way. Drake’s stream-of-consciousness delivery matches with his most existential feelings so far, like “You can take the road that takes you to the stars now / I can take a road that’ll see me through.” The theme of feeling like an outsider reaches boundless heights on the album’s eighth track, “Parasite,” which I believe the album climbs to throughout. Drake’s up-close guitar picking is infectious and keeps the man alive despite his passing over half a century ago.
The direction of “Which Will” seems typical until Drake sings and maintains his voice at a newfound register for much of the song’s verses. Listeners may notice he enunciates his words less here, possibly due to a variety of factors. The album was recorded across two nights in 1971 while Drake lived in London and was going through it—even if he wasn’t announcing it to the world like the Drake we know today. Nevertheless, I’d argue here is where “Pink Moon” gets more emotional.
“Horn” illustrates this point as the first instrumental, though the expressiveness of each note mirrors Drake’s vocals in some bizarre way. “Things Behind the Sun” devolves the listener into much sorrow across roughly four minutes of pensive thought. To make the obvious comparison to another talented 26-year-old who died by overdose, Mac Miller, it’s eerie how both artists seem aware within their music that their days were numbered.
As Miller had spoken about his unsustainable relationship with drugs, and even how they were going to kill him, Drake speaks with a wild level of insight in the chorus, “Take your time and you’ll be fine / And say a prayer for people there.”
“Know” features Drake’s most harmonic vocals, even with the first half only seeing him hum. A simple quatrain goes a long way with how much he draws out every word, the final line of which is the haunting “You know I’m not there.” “Parasite” is usually when I emotionally fracture on a listen of “Pink Moon,” yet it’s the only song I didn’t cry to during my most recent sit-down.
My main appreciation here is Drake’s vulnerability. Considering how angelic he sounds, hearing him sing “When lifting the mask from a local clown / Feeling down like him” or “Take a look, you may see me in the dirt / For I am the parasite who hangs from your skirt” is heartbreaking and uplifting. You could gather any lesson from this juxtaposition, but I take from it that it’s okay to not be okay.
“Free Ride” solidifies Drake as a legendary acoustic guitar player, synchronizing his words with technical playing that would inspire anyone to pick the instrument up and try it for themselves. “Harvest Breed” functions as a thematic finale, as Drake discusses the end times, closing the song with “And you’re ready now / For the harvest breed.”
For the actual finale, which may as well be an epilogue for how cheery it is compared to the previous descent into sadness, “From the Morning” epitomizes what I love about “Pink Moon.” Regardless of what Drake was dealing with at the time, he chose to complete this recording with a restored perspective, pointing out what he cherishes in the world. Highlighting the day itself and the air as “beautiful,” along with valuing the “endless summer nights,” it’s gut-wrenching to know there was so much purity and optimism in the mind of this man, who was gone too soon.
Unlike Drake, I don’t produce my best work at my emotional low. However, listening to “Pink Moon” is a yearly occasion or so, and I was not betting on being as upset as I found myself this weekend before the end of the semester. I’ll find some other way to wrap my iteration of this column up, but above any other recommendation I give, listen to this album. You won’t regret it.