Nick Drake 2: Bryter Layter

Having translated his experiences at Cambridge and the English countryside to music on his debut, Nick Drake turned his eye to London. What he found there was alternately enlightening and confusing.

Bryter Layter opens much like his first album, with delicate fingerpicking and warm strings. The instrumental “Introduction” has themes that will turn up two songs later; on further listening you realize the guitar stays the same, while the strings bring the actual melody, the type of thing Brian Wilson would have done. “Hazey Jane II” is the first real song, and frankly weaker than its namesake later on the side. The breathless vocals with the car-horn brass show that he’s definitely in another place, and unsure of his footing, but in the second half of the song he tries to get his bearings and settle in. In “At The Chime Of A City Clock”, he’s still wandering the city streets, then chooses to “stay indoors, beneath the floors” since most people consider him “either weird or lonely”. The chorus has a way of rising, giving the feeling of the brisk breeze on your face through city streets, and the saxophone is a nice touch without being as obtrusive as horns can be. There’s a very effective change after the second chorus, setting us up for the third, quieter chorus and the climax of the final chorus. “One Of These Things First” starts out as a meditation on karma and reincarnation, but soon turns into a list instead of a song, to the point where one might tune out and miss the more effective middle section, which redeems the track. Then “Hazey Jane I” comes cascading in, soon joined by the strings. Whether or not this Jane is the same hazey one as before, or if she’s related to Mary Jane on the first album—the line that suggests she’s “riding a new man” in particular raises an eyebrow—it’s a very gentle song despite the urgency of the guitar, and just gorgeous all the way through.

Side two begins with the title track, another instrumental. Neither as dramatic nor moving as the “Introduction”, it leaves one wishing for more to grab onto, or at least lyrics. Yet the idea that things will be brighter later suggests a bit of hope. “Fly” chimes in with a lovely stairstep guitar figure echoed by John Cale’s perfect viola. The words are pleading, with music that gives the sensation of falling or sinking. Notice how he strains at every “please”, and relaxes for every “now” or “come”. It’s set up, and seems just about to resolve, but instead floats away. The only recording of Nick playing an electric guitar, the jazzy “Poor Boy” also seems to be more of a list, but the half-mocking backing vocals (also the only backing vocals in his catalog) keep the song rolling for six-plus minutes without dragging. (“Nobody knows how cold it goes” is right out of A.A. Milne, another touchstone.) “Northern Sky” is one of his loveliest songs, and one of the most hopeful. After all the discomfort of adjusting to the city and the people he’s met and missed, he still finds someone he thinks he can trust, wants to trust. John Cale’s keyboards color the song beautifully, especially the poignant middle section. One might think it really is going to get brighter later. But “Sunday” creeps in with a hint of concern, the minor key and flute carrying this third instrumental, closing the album. A slight buildup hints at a turn for the better, then a pause, but it’s back to the sad, quiet theme from before.

Where the first album was mostly down, which masked the bemusement, Bryter Layter nearly suggests that change is good, and that the journey was worth it, but it nevertheless ends warily. The instrumentals and some similarities between songs suggest a limited well, suggest that it lacks the breadth and spectrum of Five Leaves Left. But that’s how he planned it, and it truly works better as a whole entity, the best tracks illuminated by those around them. (The cover art is another good match. The portrait of the artist on the front is only slightly let down by the dated groovy lettering, and the shot on the back observing the nighttime freeway is another wonderful portrait. In recent years another allegedly proposed cover emerged, and we can’t decide if it’s better.)

Nick Drake Bryter Layter (1971)—3½