And now we rise And we are everywhere

Nick Drake - 'From The Morning' (Pink Moon - 1972)

With the 50th anniversary of Nick Drake’s death this week, I decided it would be fitting to reflect on Pink Moon, his hauntingly beautiful album that marked both the culmination of his brief career, his most intimate artistic statement and for many his best album¹. The closing track, ‘From the Morning’, offers a serene meditation on life and the transient beauty of small moments, a poignant conclusion to an album that too often, knowing how the story ends, feels like a solitary journey into the depths of the human soul.

Recorded over two nights in October 1971 at London’s Sound Techniques studio, Pink Moon strips back the lush arrangements of Drake’s earlier Five Leaves Left and Bryter Layter. This time, there’s no backing band, no embellishments—just Drake’s ethereal voice and the intricate guitar playing, with a single piano overdub on the title track. Produced by John Wood, the album’s stark simplicity is seen as a mirror to the isolation Drake was feeling at the time, though it is important to note that he was reportedly proud and purposeful during its creation and the story that he turned up at Island Records with the album in a plastic bag and left it there isn’t true.

In 1996 former press officer for Island Records, David Sandison, told Drake fanzine Pynk Moon that

I saw him in reception after I came back from lunch and I was talking to somebody and I saw a figure in the corner on the bench, and I suddenly realized it was Nick. He had this big, 15 ips [inches per second] master tape box under his arm, and I said 'Have you had a cup of tea?' and he said 'Erm, yes', and I said 'Do you want to come upstairs?' and he said 'Yes, okay'. So we went upstairs into my office, which was on top of the landing, it was a landing that went into the big office with a huge round table where Chris and everybody else worked—very democratic—and there was a big Reevox [sic] and sound system there, and he just sat in my office area for about half an hour ... After about half an hour he said 'I'd better be going', and I said 'Okay, nice to see you', and he left. Now, he went down the stairs and he still had the tapes under his arm, and about an hour later the girl who worked behind the front desk called up and said 'Nick's left his tapes behind'. So I went down and it was the big sixteen-track master tape and it said NICK DRAKE PINK MOON, and I thought 'that's not an album I know'. The first thing to do was get it in the studio to make a seven and a half inch safety copy, because that was the master. So we ran off a safety copy to actually play, and I think twenty four hours later or so, it was put on the Reevox in the main room and we heard Pink Moon.

‘From the Morning’ stands out as both a thematic and emotional bookend to Pink Moon. Where earlier tracks like ‘Road’ and ‘Parasite’ delve into shadows of despair and alienation, ‘From the Morning’ opens the door to at least a crack of light. The lyrics are a celebration of the natural world and the fleeting beauty of existence, encapsulating the cyclical nature of life and death. Drake sings, “A day once dawned, and it was beautiful,” which you cand read as a gentle reverence that suggests a man finding solace, however fleeting, in the simplicity of a new day, a time for activity and with the possibilities of a day opening up in front of you.

Nature is a recurring motif throughout Drake’s work and Pink Moon, but in ‘From the Morning’, it reaches its zenith. The song pairs the promise of the dawn with the inevitability of night, life with death—opposite forces that are inseparable and work hand-in-hand. The lyrics’ meditative quality evokes a sense of acceptance, as if Drake has made peace with the impermanence of life. “So look, see the sights / The endless nights” is an invitation to appreciate the beauty in both light and dark, joy and sorrow.

Drake’s exploration of these contrasts extends beyond the lyrics. His guitar playing, often likened to the precision and fluidity of classical compositions, here mirrors the ebb and flow of nature itself. The melody in ‘From the Morning’ feels cyclical, almost tidal, with each phrase easily overlapping and folding into the next.

As the album’s closer, ‘From the Morning’ shifts the tone from introspection to quiet affirmation. While the earlier tracks lay bare a man wrestling with his inner demons, this final piece feels like a quiet release. It’s a song that accepts the world for what it is, imperfections and all, and finds beauty within it.

Of course this isn’t the final word from Drake. The tonal shift from the rest of the album is striking when compared to the few recordings Drake left behind after Pink Moon. Songs like ‘Black Eyed Dog’ and ‘Hanging on a Star’, recorded during his final sessions in 1974, are more stark and more harrowing than anything on the album, hinting at a deeper descent into despair. Against this backdrop, ‘From the Morning’ feels like a moment of clarity, as if Drake briefly glimpsed a sense of peace.

The pared-down production of Pink Moon enhances the song’s impact. John Wood, who worked closely with Drake throughout his career, noted the deliberate simplicity of these sessions. There’s no bells and whistles even in the postcode; instead, the space around Drake’s voice and guitar creates an intimacy that feels as if Drake is sitting across from the listener, sharing something deeply personal.

Unlike its predecessors, Pink Moon initially struggled to find an audience. Island Records, wary of its commercial viability, promoted it with minimalist ads, which failed to generate significant sales during Drake’s lifetime. However, its rediscovery in the 1990s—helped in no small part by a Volkswagen advert featuring the title track—cemented its status as a touchstone of modern folk.

‘From the Morning’ has since been celebrated as one of Drake’s more uplifting songs, its quiet optimism resonating with new generations of listeners. The song’s final lines, “And now we rise, and we are everywhere,” carry an almost prophetic weight, they are in fact written on the back of Drake’s grave. It’s tempting to interpret these words as Drake’s farewell, but they also suggest transcendence, a reminder that while life is fleeting, its impact can ripple far beyond our time.

For all its lyrical beauty and intricate musicianship, ‘From the Morning’ is perhaps most powerful for what it leaves unsaid. There’s a quiet confidence in its simplicity, a sense that Drake didn’t feel the need to adorn it with complex arrangements or elaborate production. It’s this restraint that makes the song—and Pink Moon as a whole—so enduring.

At this anniversary, ‘From the Morning’ feels like a fitting tribute to an artist whose work continues to inspire and console. It’s a song that reminds us to look for beauty in the everyday, to find peace in the inevitability of change, and to embrace the fleeting nature of life. As Nick Drake rises into the pantheon of musical legends, his voice remains a guide through the darkest nights and the brightest dawns.

1. My view is that Bryter Layter is his best album, YMMV.