Nick Drake. Yes.

[fable]

Nick Drake was one of a group of British alternative folk-rockers in the 1970s who never made it big. He put out three albums, and together, they sold about 60,000 copies worldwide. He died at the age of 26 in 1974, of a prescrption overdose using drugs taken for depression. He was a fine musician, naturally gifted in both words and lyrical music. There was no coverup about him, nothing fake. He was a romantic without cliches, and a very open man. Here's a link to just a bit of background about Drake.

I've just heard that he's got his first hit single. His sister and former sound engineer were going through some old tapes to help with preparation for a new documentary on Drake's life, and came across some stuff he did in his last session that had been forgotten. It was released, and promptly sold more copies than Drake could ever have imagined. Reminded me of how Charlie Parker's plastic saxophone sold a couple of years' back to some billionaire for more money than Parker saw in his entire life.

Oh, irony.

[Rob-hin]

And the point to this story is:
If you are an artist of any kind, you need to die for some recognition.

[Georgi]

I'd heard about the new session stuff, but I didn't know they had released any singles. I'd heard a new rarities album is coming out. There's only one totally new song, isn't there?

Quote:

Originally posted by Rob-hin And the point to this story is: If you are an artist of any kind, you need to die for some recognition.

And the eerie point to this story is, Nick Drake recognised as much in his lyrics...

Fruit Tree

Fame is but a fruit tree
So very unsound.
It can never flourish
Till its stalk is in the ground.
So men of fame
Can never find a way
Till time has flown
Far from their dying day.
Forgotten while you're here
Remembered for a while
A much updated ruin
From a much outdated style.

Life is but a memory
Happened long ago.
Theatre full of sadness
For a long forgotten show.
Seems so easy
Just to let it go on by
Till you stop and wonder
Why you never wondered why.

Safe in the womb
Of an everlasting night
You find the darkness can
Give the brightest light.
Safe in your place deep in the earth
That's when they'll know what you were really worth.
Forgotten while you're here
Remembered for a while
A much updated ruin
From a much outdated style.

Fame is but a fruit tree
So very unsound.
It can never flourish
Till its stalk is in the ground.
So men of fame
Can never find a way
Till time has flown
Far from their dying day.

Fruit tree, fruit tree
No-one knows you but the rain and the air.
Don't you worry
They'll stand and stare when you're gone.

Fruit tree, fruit tree
Open you eyes to another year.
They'll all know
That you were here when you're gone.