It’s 1971 and the purple world of Bryter Layter, Nick Drake’s second set-o-songs, rolls up regally in an entrancing ‘Introduction’. Gentle acoustic guitar goes low and high in fancy flights of elegant arpeggios as other orchestral instruments start to swell with romantic rises of string-sound. It’s just a couple chords mirrored again and again for not much more than a minute, but it sets the mellow mood for the rest of the record. ‘Hazey Jane II’ sounds like a sunny afternoon countryside with its quick twanging licks and background brass. It’s nothing but fast folk rocking with full band reinforcements and an unusual and upbeat course of chords. The first few phrases of verse draw on far longer than expected just because Drake, a rather shy guy, finds he has much to say in song. Sung in a sudden outpouring of posh flourish, his lines come across sprawling and spontaneous and a touch funny: “and what will happen in the evening in the forest with the weasel with the teeth that bite so sharp when you’re not looking in the evening?”. It all seems the smiling influence of the old hazy jane inhabiting his head and making him all the more articulate in his art. Indeed, the last lyrics are “if songs were lines / in a conversation / the situation would be fine”; and this seems to say that he can only really talk true if he’s singing a song. ‘At The Chime Of A City Clock’ starts with an apocalyptical guitar part, its tone beset by smoke and snow. After one pass, the band joins in jazzily and Drake sings “a city freeze / get on your knees / pray for warmth and green paper”. It’s a grim vision of poor people with no place to go and no one to know in an enormous and overpopulated industrial jungle. In addition to the bleary business of the bass-n-drums accompaniment, symphonious strings sweep above the scene in dark arcs, ominous countermelodies to the tuneful “chime of the city clock” of the chorus. Second verse introduces a squawking jazz-sax that adds a ton of rougher colors to the grey-shade spectrum of the song. Overall, it’s rather black, this track. Cheer up or perhaps down with ‘One Of These Things First’, a breeze-feel ballad belied by downbeat lyrics about everything that the singer could have been: “I could have been your pillar / could have been your door / I could have stayed beside you / could have stayed for more”. Clearly trapped in the past, Drake can’t move forward to make any changes: “I could be / here and now / I would be, I should be / but how?”; and considering his obscure and short-lived life, these troubles of time and identity are essential elements of the artist. Musically, the tune features a fast and relentless riff for guitar as well as some perfectly-employed piano. Restless drums drive the beat all the while; and even at five minutes, the song seems too short. Despite its sequel occurring earlier in the album, ‘Hazey Jane I’ shows up as an entirely different song. The first few seconds exhibit Drake’s masterful command of his folk-fingers with awesome acoustic guitar parts. Cinematic strings move with slow majesty almost out-of-time through this other dusty address to the vague Jane, likely both a person and a plant. Lines like “do you feel like a remnant / of something that’s past? / do you find things are moving / just a little too fast?” read with some stoned sense of loss as if time is trickling by and there’s no way forward. Last lines: “hey slow, Jane, clear your eye / slow, slow, Jane, fly on by”; it’s just another gentle rendering of the strange relationship between Drake-n-Jane, man and his high and flighty muse. ‘Bryter Layter’ title track turns out to be a charming instrumental featuring flute, very melodic and somewhat sassy-jazzy as strings enter in. No true telling what the words “bryter layter” may mean, but perhaps it’s an indication of sunshine to come tomorrow. ‘Fly’ comes across classically with its stately shape. Descending guitars go down against a droning two-note viola before a huge harpsichord fills out the sound. Drake’s hurried and high-pitched pleas of “please! give me a second grace / please! give me a second face” sound particularly pained against the opulent production as if his straining voice can scarcely rise above to voice responsibility and express remorse. The main takeaway can be collected from the end of each refrain: “it’s really too hard for to fly”, that folky double preposition/infinitive easy to mishear as “for the fly”. Jazz guitar does dim mutey music throughout ‘Poor Boy’, a track unlike all others on the album. Piano’s prominent and eventually gets to shine bryter layter during an extended solo. Saxophone squeals. Ladies lend dusty lungs to lead the chorus of “oh pooy boy / so sorry for himself / oh poor boy / so worried for his health”. Lyrics paint a picture of a poor little urchin child living a rough-n-ragged existence out on the streets; but it’s really just Drake the Waif singing with deathly self-pity: “nobody knows / how cold it grows…” ‘Northern Sky’ comes across like a cold yet cozy evening with its soft guitar and spacious organ atmospheres. It might the simplest song on of the set, but that doesn’t diminish its large charm. Drake soulfully sings: “would you love me for my money? / would you love me for my head? / would you love me through the winter? / would you love me ’til I’m dead?”. As evidenced by this song showing up in more than a few movies and inspiring other songs of its own (see The Dream Academy’s ‘Life In A Northern Town’), many people do love the man and his music. Indeed, this might be the most-known Nick Drake ditty. ‘Sunday’ is another flutey feature with a main theme most moody and menacing. No throwaway, the song boasts several melodies abounding in well-wound sections of innerestin instrumental music; and although there’s no words at work, it’s still quite catchy! Made by a man rarely recognized in his own time, Bryter Layter may take a few tries to really get; but if you like great creative guitar playing and introspective lyrics, listen and listen again to unlock this bunch of beautifully moody musics.