Recent Articles

Recent Articles by Angela Sawyer

  • X-Mas at Ye Ol' Grog

    With Duvalby Bros., Roué, Machine Go Boom, and Short Rabbits. Tuesday, December 25, at the Grog Shop, Cleveland Heights.

  • Sasquatch & the Sick-a-Billys

    With Scarlet Fever and the Village Vandals. Thursday, December 20, at the Beachland Tavern.

  • Nick Drake

    Fruit Tree (Fontana)

  • The New Flesh

    Thursday, November 1, at Now That's Class.

  • Queensrÿche

    With Audiblethread. Tuesday, September 18, at House of Blues.

National Features >

  • Broward-Palm Beach New Times

    Sexual Healing

    For Florida's sole remaining sex surrogate, love is a many splintered thing.

    By Michael J. Mooney

  • City Pages

    Your Friendly Neighborhood War Profiteer

    It's not just giant companies cashing in on America's defense industry.

    By Jeff Severns Guntzel

  • The Pitch

    Supersizing Sonic

    How a throwaway idea at the Barkley ad agency became the "Sonic Guys."

    By Justin Kendall

  • Houston Press

    Temples of Tex-Mex

    A diner's guide to Texas's oldest Mexican restaurants.

    By Robb Walsh

Nick Drake

Fruit Tree (Fontana)

By Angela Sawyer

Published on November 21, 2007

The paradigm of the willowy, sensitive artist remains both endlessly false and eternally true. That's why Nick Drake can sell Volkswagens and cut to the essence of human loneliness with the very same tune. He so successfully taps into fragile psyches and souls that Fruit Tree — a 28-year-old box set that compiles his three albums (1969's Five Leaves Left, 1970's Bryter Later, and 1972's tour-de-force Pink Moon) — has just been reissued for the third time. (A disc of outtakes, a 108-page booklet, and a DVD documentary are also included in this latest version.) Drake's celebrated arrangements are all about atypical acoustic guitar tunings that cover the spectrum from delicate chamber pop to stark silence. His drug-related death in 1974 at age 26 has been romanticized by gloomy college kids all over the world. But as Fruit Tree proves time and time again, Drake's unruffled singing and poised lyrics transcend mopey melancholy and speak to more universal truths.