A FRIDAY TO REMEMBER

Wow - what an experience...

Let me put this in perspective.  I'm a big fan of Nick Drake, an (unfairly) obscure musician from England.  Nick passed away in 1974 after only putting out three albums but his timeless music lives on.  Understandably, it's hard to connect with others here in my hometown of Baltimore, Maryland USA who have even heard of him, much less appreciate his music.  Ahh, but I live in the age of the internet and have managed to find a small but hardy bunch of folks who have this similar interest.

For a few years we've been chatting online at http://www.b2g2.com/boards/board.cgi?&user=brendan0813

At some point it was suggested that we should all try and meet in Nick's hometown of Tanworth-In-Arden in the heart of England one day.  Organized by the effervescent and ever-charming SMMY (who lives outside of San Francisco,) the date was set for Saturday July 26, 2003 and message board members pledged to come from around the world.  Skeptical as one should be about internet acquaintances, I had a gut feeling that these folks were sincere and generally nice folks.  I couldn't have been more right!

The adventure was dubbed "Our Merry Abandon" by board member Caro (who came all the way from Seattle) and a concert jam of Nick Drake music was planned, with a church service the following day. 

At left in the cover of the event's 16-page program, designed by board member Alan (who drove down from Aberdeen, Scotland.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My adventure really began the night before the concert.  Picture me, Friday at dusk.  I had been awake for two days, traveling since Thursday.  On very little sleep, I trudged off to Tanworth to meet some of my internet friends for the first time.  Jetlagged with hair matted to my head, I sat outside The Bell, a quaint country pub and nursed a Guinness, looking out for people that I had no idea what they looked like. 

The Bell is located adjacent to the village green in the center of this quiet little town.  In my sleep-deprived stupor, I glanced around me, slowly taking in the surroundings.  Directly in front of me was a church.  A lovely example of a simple country chapel, I admired it for some time.  But the more I looked, the more something struck me about it.  Hazy, I pulled on my Guinness and kept an eye out for my new friends.  I guess I'd been sitting there for about 20 minutes when it struck me - I know that church - I'd seen it somewhere before - wait, where am I?  I'm in Tanworth-In-Arden - I know where I've seen that church - that's the church Nick Drake is buried beside!

Renewed, I drained my pint glass and set off across the green and right into the churchyard.  I immediately began scanning the stone markers, trying to confirm my revelation.  I walked along the worn path in the grass but I could not find the grave.  I'd searched for about 20 minutes and, just as I was leaving, there it was - Nick Drake's final resting spot.  It was small, just a simple marker with some flowers and things others had left behind, like a small framed photo and a hand-painted rock.  And I had been sitting across the street all that time without realizing it!  I sat on a nearby bench and hummed 'Clothes of Sand,' one of my favorite Nick Drake songs.

After awhile I returned to The Bell and noticed one guy who seemed a little out of place in the pub.  It turned out to be Kris, a board member who had traveled up from Belgium for the big event.   Soon afterwards, SMMY, Caro, Alan and Mark arrived and we had a great big dinner, learning a little about each other and what to expect for the Saturday night gig.  After food, conversation, many laughs (and a few more pints,) a couple of the folks revealed that they hadn't been across the street to the church yet - and it was my privilege to lead the way.

It was getting quite dark by this point, but fortunately Kris had brought a flashlight with him.  We carefully set out to cross the darkening graveyard.  The ground was uneven and a few people tripped.  Soon we all surrounded the gravesite, standing quietly as a lone beam illuminated the headstone. 

Caro had brought her guitar from the car with her.  She and I peeled off from the others to my nearby bench.   Quietly, Caro began to play the familiar chords from a Nick Drake tune and began to softly sing in the dark.  I hummed along.  Too soon, she was finished.  I gave her a brief hug and a pat on the back.  At that very moment I knew I'd made this trip at the right time.  I could've come here by myself but there are few words to describe how I felt at that moment.  I knew I was experiencing a little bit of strange and simple magic.  It was too cool.  I'm so glad for that moment. 

After the song the others beckoned us toward the far end of the graveyard and a small wooden gate.  Outside the gate we found ourselves in a meadow, far from the town and the rest of the world.  We were high above the surrounding countryside and I felt like I could see forever over the fading horizon.  The night was warm, the air was crisp and fresh and the heavens above were only slightly overcast.  Oddly, there was just one single star in this northern sky - and it was directly overhead. 

One by one, Caro, Alan and Mark took turns playing songs as SMMY, Kris and I sang along, clapped and soaked up the scene.  It reminded me of some of the fondest memories of my youth, when friends would gather and songs would be played and everyone sang and dreamed and our troubles were either far away or non-existent.

Eventually we parted with plans to regroup the following evening for the big concert.  As my cab sped off into the night back toward Redditch and my hotel, I knew that I had just experienced a rare treat indeed.  The concert the next night would be a lot of fun but for me, that spontaneous jam in the meadow - a stone's throw from Nick Drake's grave - was the highlight of my trip to England.