I Remember Molly Drake
By Alaina Tennison
She was more than “Nick Drake’s mother.” Molly Drake was a musician, poet, and storytelling virtuoso.
Nearly 20 years after her death and 40 years after the death of her son, Molly’s private songs and poems were released publicly for the first time in 2013, compiled in an album titled “Molly Drake.” None of her songs were published during her lifetime.
Molly had a unique past. Forced to flee from Burma with her sister after the Japanese invasion during World War II, they traveled on foot to Delhi, India. Eventually returning to Burma after the war, her legendary son, Nick Drake, was born shortly before the family moved to England.
Despite her dark past, Molly was able to find the beauty in life; this is more than evident in her music and poetry. She frequently references nature in a way that reveals a tender relationship with her surroundings. She demonstrates a rare outlook on life and an extraordinary ability to express her feelings, memories, and thoughts.
Perhaps it is Molly’s innate ability to express emotions and memories in such a poetic way that makes her music so bewitching. These songs were recorded by her husband on a home recorder, and there is a certain intimacy in the sound of her music that truly makes you feel like you are in the room with her. Molly’s soft singing and piano playing feel like a comforting yet somber bedtime story. There is a simplicity to the music that conflicts with (and complements) her more complex poetry.
The first song I encountered by Molly Drake was “I Remember,” and it continues to be my favorite. This song evokes feelings of melancholy and joy, as well as the kind and unkind remnants of memories. She beautifully describes an unrequited love and unreciprocated enthusiasm within these memories.
“I remember firelight and you remember smoke.”
“I remember willow trees and you remember gnats.”
“I remember oranges and you remember dust.”
“I had thought that we were we, but we were you and me.”
Hearing Molly’s music feels like reading her personal diary. She crafts feelings into words in a way that most people could never achieve. She gives perspective and understanding to complicated emotions. Her music reopens your deepest wounds while simultaneously soothing them with feelings of warmth and appreciation.
Molly died at the age of 77, nearly 20 years after her son Nick, and five years after her husband. Buried next to both of them, lyrics from Nick’s song “From the Morning” mark her gravestone.
“And now we rise, and we are everywhere.”
Molly is one of those rarities that created art for the sole sake of expression, and what an honor it is to have an inside look into her mind, heart, and spirit. Her soft soul, resilience and strength, and one-of-a-kind storytelling are treasures to be cherished. Let Molly’s music remind us of the simple joys, the difficult emotions, and the art of remembrance. Whether or not it would have mattered to her, I will always remember Molly Drake.
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