"Pink Moon Shot out from his colored envelope, dropped it on the turntable, put myself on an old t-shirt, I lay on the floor of my apartment in Brooklyn. And then I am grateful for the company to everyone I know, happy to be alive, eternally grateful for the puffs of air that keep passing through the lungs. It 's a play that makes me submissive and powerless: Pink Moon will always be my refuge, my way of put your feet on tera, my panacea, good my retreat, my lifeline "
(Amanda Petrusich)
It 's true that music is to come and look. Last night I was thrown to seek to finish the great book by Amanda Petrusich, another book about Nick Drake, entitled - but look a bit '- "Pink Moon" . Actually I was annoying the way they dealt with the disk in question: the usual clichés about depressed and want to prophesy his own death. Know enough about depression to know that those cliches are trivially incorrect, as is the schizophrenia of which he was the victim in the days when Nick Drake Pink Moon recorded. I know that a schizophrenic would never record an album as Pink Moon. I have a brother who is in that state for about thirty years and I sometimes stay locked inside in that twilight zone where there is only a black dog - that are sung so formidable as to Nick Drake, Pink Moon, but years later - to keep you company, even trying to drag you down even more. When schizophrenia, depression has gripped you, you can only see life from inside a shell from which you want to get out but you can not, as I was buried alive. Pink Moon is not that.
Thirty years, as the illness of my brother, are actually the length of time since the first time I listened to Pink Moon, when a friend of us older ones began to turn for Chiavari arm with the box - just out - Fruit Tree, Nick Drake all the disks. Even then he was only required to listen to Pink Moon and especially, of the three. I did it to me copiare su una cassettina e per anni lo tirai fuori per ascoltarlo in qualità sonica orrida, e non me ne innamorai mai. Lo trovavo sempre un disco mal fatto, mal cantato, mal suonato. Eppure lo ascoltavo spesso. Ieri notte, per darmi ragione delle parole scritte da Amanda nel suo libro, mi sono alzato per andare a recuperare il cd e ascoltarlo insieme alla lettura. Con inebetito stupore mi sono accorto di non aver mai avuto una edizione ufficiale di Pink Moon, ma solo un cd-r con il disco scaricato probabilmente dalla Rete. Ecco. Pink Moon in un modo o nell'altro non è mai voluto entrare a casa mia, o non vi è stato accolto. In realtà, ho sempre considerato il capolavoro assoluto di Nick Drake il suo primo disco, Five Leaves Left e in qualche modo lo I also think this morning, even if something finally changed.
Last night I still put on my copy of Pink Moon and stupid after a few seconds but I put the book down and I started listening to Pink Moon one, two, five, fifteen times. Bam! You know when you open the cerebellum? Be 'rarely happens in life to do this kind of experience, but sometimes it happens. The first thing I realized was that Pink Moon in my house was never warmly embraced because, as the people you wrote about, was the record of a schizophrenic, depressed, and I depressed schizophrenic in my life I had enough , myself included, to want to spend time also the disc to a representative of this category. Last night, while listening to him repeatedly, but I saw unfolding before me a world of pure beauty. I felt in those passages of devastating beauty guitar, guitar parts that only a person who is dedicated to the instrument 24 can get 24 hours to produce .. Perhaps this was the secret of true disease Nick Drake: the desire to imposessarsi a total musical language, a language that belongs only to the gods, a sonic madness that had possessed as a fever. Then I went to sleep with the echo of a sweet voice and images in the enchantment of life suspended between a cup of tea, Mayfair and Soho streets and even the beaches of Chiavari. Who knows why.
just woke up this morning the first thing I did, even before you get me a coffee, was put on Pink Moon. In this absurd Milan winter already knows that spring, while the city is entangled by the hood of smog and the cars are forced to stay in the garage, in the surreal silence of a metropolis but fucking finally tamed, even if eg rpoche hours, the sun shining Etrave dala more window. As the first notes are lots of Pink Moon - the song - when Nick Drake is a sort of agreement that may seem like a false start but it really is an ingenious idea of \u200b\u200bpure beauty, Pink Moon - the hard-you told me how inutilemnte had tried to do for over thirty years. And to hell with the stories of a diseased disc, night clubs, a damn hard. I never seemed to announce a record so bright new day, the beauty of life, even the pain of the life course. The notes of the songs on this record were dancing with rays of sun entered the window in a cosmic dance of uncontrollable simple, yet complicated statement of vitality, strength and stretch in a comforter that very few discs have. Pink Moon is a dichiarazioen of life. How things behind the sun, things behind the sun, Pink Moon was found in place to be, a place to be.
For when the disk had finished playing, I was sitting at the computer to order the first official copy Pink Moon in my entire life.
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