Fair Prince

Nick Drake - Pink Moon

Weather: Warmer

Time: After something (physical stress; people left the barbecue; living somewhere for a while)

Action: Decompression (sitting, driving)

I'm not very good at rock climbing. In fact, it's something I probably should not deign to do without health insurance. I do it only occasionally enough not to risk getting better. Normally I reject anything I'm not immediately good at. (How do I learn new things? Usually by being forced.) But, there's something about climbing stuff that outweighs any ego shot. If you didn't climb stuff when you were little -- be it trees or fire escapes -- well, you were clearly dealing with some grave social issue and I hope that you were able to solve it. If you don't climb as an adult, it's likely you recognize your body's new limitations (or your neighborhood's new impression of you monkeying up an external pipe to get stuck on a roof across the alley; sorry, Mike). Whatever your reason for not doing it then, or not doing it now, it can't be because you're not curious what's up there. And it can't be because you see no value in conquering something in the most basic way.

I went out to climb yesterday, late afternoon, and I didn't do much conquering. Stretching, yes. Falling, you bet. Cheating to get to the top on occasion? (Listen: it probably feels better to do it honestly, but I know it feels good as long as you're looking down. Even if you did skip a couple holds because, with orangutan arms, you could.) I did just enough to feel different than a tin man, and get my arms and legs weak. And, because I think infrequently, a got a couple good 75-yard sprints in with the dog coming down the hill. By the time we got to the truck, I regretted a lot of the decisions I'd made in my life. But, I was happy. I may not have wanted to talk to anyone (for the struggle of it), but I was glad they were there. We just beat the sunset down, and it was just asking for windows down on the way home.

Pink Moon is, frankly, the greatest pure folk album of all time.

That sentence belongs by itself. Before all the Dylan and Guthrie armies fall in, just take a deep breath. Dylan had, generously, 3 actual folk albums (The Times They Are a-Changin', the Freewheelin', and Bob Dylan). I say generously, because, although there was no secret that Dylan loved Guthrie, he was as bluesy as anything. (Don't believe it? Check out Blind Lemon Jefferson, then listen to "Corrina, Corrina".) And Woody was a folk hero; practically invented the movement in America. But, you just can't tell me "This Land is Your Land" is on many stereos these days. Woody moved a nation, but his posters are up in dorm rooms for his activism, not his listenability.

But, didn't Nick Drake work with blues, too? Sure did. Listen to just about all of the transition stuff on Family Tree. But all those bent notes and little embellishments are conspicuously absent from Pink Moon. It's even more folky than Drake's other albums (read: yes, even more than the mystic flute on Bryter Later). The stories and longing, mostly without accompaniment, are suitable for firesides and vast expanses.

It might win even if Dylan dropped the 7's, because it's remarkable from start to finish. Every single track is simple and good. The originality is prolific. There are, by my count, seven different tunings spread among eleven songs. This was probably maddening for live audiences (by common account, Drake rejected the idea of toting multiple pre-tuned guitars, favoring instead making the crowd wait between songs while he tuned his one), but on a record it's seamless. I don't know what music as a textile would look like (or whether I should go throw up because I just typed that), but I bet Pink Moon would make a fine blanket.

Seriously, use it when you're wrecked, but wrecked with promise. The title track is interestingly conclusive for a beginning (this might actually be the song that got me so sold on driving to this album; it was in a VW commercial) and it's perfect for driving away from something, whether it be a night baseball game in which your team got shellacked or a last beer on a good night. For a 23-year old, Drake had an impressive capacity for reminiscing through words that highlighted sadness, and then picking them up, showing the bright side, with his guitar. In other words, the lyrics might make you dwell on the final score, but the music should remind you of laughing with the second baseman, or at least that you're playing the worst team in the league next week.

For the confidence disinclined, Pink Moon can be dangerous. Part of what makes the album such a nice wrap to a day is that Drake is doing huge things without shaking anyone. But, if you haven't done anything, "How can something so simple be so pretty" can turn into "I can't even do something pretty when I try to be complex." Although it doesn't have the radio single potential of many of the other tracks, "Know" sums up the project and its value. Here, Drake uses only four total notes on his guitar, and works his voice in with a pain Eddie Vedder clearly paid attention to writing the soundtrack to Into the Wild. He's not changing the world, or necessarily even influencing music to come, but he's conquered the four notes, and made it work gracefully or not.

I've had this record in my ears on at least five occasions of leaving. Moving from my college town went unnoticed on the news, but I put a mark on it in a common way (like 28,000 other students). Flying back from an ill-advised trip (which included sleeping on Faneuil Hall's lovely benches in October), I didn't have much but a story to show for it, but I took a shot to see what would happen. Sometimes it's about getting to the top, no matter how short the rock is or which way you overuse your arms.