In the States, advertisers have this strange tendency to use Nick Drake’s music in their commercials. Well, at least twice—once in a Volkswagen commercial, and most recently, “From the Morning,” the closing track on Pink Moon, was used in a widespread AT&T wireless service campaign. Perhaps this wouldn’t seem nearly as exploitive and disturbing if Pink Moon hadn’t been Drake’s final opus before overdosing on antidepressants. Few people can deny that he was in a tremendous amount of pain, emotionally, and it comes through on this album, which is a tender, completely genuine showcase of Drake’s emotions and thoughts. With the exception of some piano overdubs on one song, Pink Moon is just a boy and his guitar—but in the truest, least hackneyed way imaginable.

Pink Moon is a melancholy album, certainly, but it’s also an incredibly enigmatic and mystical 28-minute ride. The album cover gives the feeling of a night-and-day duality, resembling either the quiet hours of the early morning or the death of the daytime. There are disembodied objects hovering around a moon—the whole thing looks like something out of a Salvador Dalí picture book. It’s an extremely fitting cover for the music, which, at times, sounds like sitting on a porch, watching the sun set over a meadow just as all the creatures of the night begin to show themselves—fireflies, bats, night owls, seemingly coming from nowhere and descending into the night. This is Drake’s first real “Nick Drake” endeavor, and perhaps his musically unaccompanied solitude on the album contributes to the sense of dark serenity.

“Pink Moon,” “Road,” and “Things Behind the Sun” reflect that dark serenity, even in the lyrics. In “Road,” Drake’s darkness comes through: “You can say the sun is shining if you really want to / I can see the moon and it seems so clear,” hinting at his less-than-bright worldview. “Pink Moon,” while possessing an uplifting chord progression reminiscent of a pleasant drive on a crisp October day, has an almost voodoo tone to it, both in Drake’s enunciation and his lyrics: “I saw it written and I saw it say / Pink moon is on its way / and none of you stand so tall / Pink moon gonna get you all.” “Things Behind the Sun” is probably the most enchanting of them all, alluding to worldly matters, but sounding completely otherworldly in his deep, fragile voice, referring to creatures below the earth and charms being “hired out of their eyes.” Lyrically, the album is dichotomous—after “Things Behind the Sun,” the album comes back down to the ground, referencing Drake’s observations of nature, people, and places. It doesn’t suffer from such a switch. On the contrary, it adds power to Pink Moon. He seems all the more sincere and vulnerable.

Drake had a way with writing guitar parts to match the mood of the song. “Know” is a very short, direct letter to a love interest, and while the song concludes with the disheartening line, “Know I’m not there,” it has a sexy, simple blues-inspired riff. “Road” actually twinkles and progresses and consequently sounds like walking under a dark, starry night sky. “Free Ride,” presumably a song about hitchhiking (at least metaphorically), moves along and chugs like a train, with Drake using palm muting to help give it a locomotive sound. This seems like a contrived approach to songwriting, but the ever-sincere Nick Drake was anything but contrived. If he were alive today and claimed that his emotions guided his composition style and naught else, it would be one hundred-percent believable.

It’s difficult to surmise, but even if we didn’t approach Pink Moon with the knowledge of Drake’s untimely death and the heartbreaking story behind it, it would still be a compelling, beautiful album. It’s just unfortunate that so few people recognized Drake’s raw talent when he was alive.

by Arika