I think that lots of people have heard at least one Nick Drake song, Pink Moon. It was in a commercial, after all. (Volkswagen; a commercial you might never forget, because the song is arresting.) And a whole other group of people have heard the song One of These Things First, because that song was in Garden State, a movie that a good number of people saw. Most people probably haven't heard Nick Drake's best song, though. That song is "Hazey Jane", and it's such a good song that sometimes I just want to sit at my desk, put my head down and listen, over and over again. If I acquired a dog (or a child, oh the insanity) at this moment, I'd probably insist on naming it Hazey Jane (I will only acquire the female of the species). Probably, in fact, too many people know who Nick Drake is, and not enough people know who Nick Drake is. I'm sure there are lots of people out there with Way To Blue, because Pink Moon made them think it was a good idea to buy it. But I'd also guess that a vast majority of those people put that one song on mixes, and never listened to the rest of the album, which is a shame.
Drake's music doesn't sound as if it was made in the early seventies. It sounds now, and it sounds perfect. His voice comes from somewhere I can't understand; when I look at his picture, I can't imagine how those sounds came out of him. It's not that often that I actually feel like that; for example, when I look at Sufjan Stevens, I can see exactly where his voice has come from. It makes Drake's music somehow more magical, somehow deeper than maybe it even is. And I only came to like Drake after that song was in a commercial, though I didn't buy Way To Blue because of it. I bought that album because someone whose music taste I trusted very much told me to buy it. He was right about the album (I could give you a long list of album's he was right about), but it took me a long time to see that he was right. I am only beginning now to truly appreciate just how special Drake is, how singular his music is. Most likely, this can be put down to the fact that Drake's music, as I've said here before, is the original sad bastard music, and can put you down faster than your dog's death. It takes some gumption, some pluck, to just dive in and listen. But it's worth it, oh, it's worth it.
I am now starting, also, to get indignant that someone would use a song of his in a commercial. I've always hated the crass melding of music and commerce; there's nothing right about hearing one of your favorite songs in a commercial for insurance or cars or cleaning products. Pink Moon isn't one of my favorite song, but it still rankles. It's just the ugliest use of music that I can imagine, and though I've become inured to the chill of hearing a good song ill-used, sometimes it can throw me.
The first time I heard Half-Acre in a commercial, I wanted to cry. It's a song by a band called Hem, and it is a song that I might love, after all these songs, best of all. There are times when the song alone has brought me to tears in the relative peace of my dark car, and there are times when I have laid my head down on my steering wheel and just let it wash over me. It's a magnificent song, and it's terrifyingly awful to realize that an insurance company or whatever can appropriate it to sell something. I'm sad for the song, and I'm sad for Hem, for pimping out what is too beautiful to be pimped. I'm sad for me too, because I still turn and look at the TV when the song begins, when the commercial comes on. And I don't want to look at an ad, I want to hear the song. It will never cease to horrify me, the commercial usage of this song. This particular song.
This is a very roundabout way of saying that if you don't listen to Nick Drake or Hem, maybe you should. Maybe you should ignore those commercials, and give these guys a try without the weight of thinking you need a new car, or you need to get some better insurance. The Hem CD with Half-Acre on it is called Rabbit Songs, and the whole album is exceptional. It is also very mellow, very quiet, and can be also classified as sad bastard music. I wish I could tell you that you wouldn't be sorry if you invested in these albums, but I can't quite be sure. Maybe you'll hate them.
I hope not, though.
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