In Search of Nick Drake
Connor McKnight, ZigZag, June 1974
SIX MONTHS ago I walked wearily into the office of ZigZag's production consultant. Weary because it was 1.30 in the morning, and because the then current issue of the magazine was virtually complete; after days of last minute toing and froing, it was all over for another four weeks. He was playing a record that began, imperceptibly, or so it seemed to me, to fill the entire room with music of ravishing beauty. I asked who it was and he replied Nick Drake. Two hours later I left his place with my head reeling, after keeping him up so that I could listen to Nick's other albums. I also, fortunately, persuaded him to lend me Nick's latest album Pink Moon and when I got home I played it again to try and dispel my incredulity that there was music this good that I hadn't been aware of till now. It worked and I went to bed anxiously waiting for the next day, which offered another chance to listen to some more; my feelings about Nick Drake and his music haven't altered since then.
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