Remembering Elliott Smith
October 24, 2003
by Dustin Pangonis

The first time I heard Elliott Smith's music was in a movie theater somewhere around a year and a half ago. I was seeing "The Royal Tenenbaums" (which, coincidentally, became my favorite movie) for the first time, and hit a pivotal scene where Luke Wilson's character, Richie Tenenbaum, attempts suicide by slitting his wrists in the bathroom. I could easily go into detail about the beauty and intensity of the scene and its emotional impact, but the most striking thing then and now was the music. I stayed in the theater through the credits just to see what the song was and who had performed it.

The song, of course, was Elliott Smith's "Needle in the Hay". And I loved everything about it. The sparse production of an acoustic guitar and vocals, Elliott's whisper of a voice, the beautiful lyrics, the subtle melody. Granted, I may not have been able to give that list after hearing only a portion of it in the movie, but the first thing I did when I got home was look Elliott up on the internet, get the song, and listen to it enough to fall in love with it. And later in the fall, I'd be getting my own copy of his self-titled record in the mail.

I didn't embrace the rest of Elliott's music as quickly as I did that first song. I liked the record, certainly. I liked it a lot. But his self-titled release is probably the darkest record I've ever heard. Even today I rank it below some of his other works, not because the songs are worse, but because it's a difficult listen. With the exception of some bright guitar work on the closer, "The Biggest Lie", it's not a set of songs that inspires many smiles in the listener. But after awhile with the record, I got on an Elliott kick and went after his other records. Eventually, I realized I was listening to Smith every night and that he had become my favorite artist.

I knew of Elliott's depression and drug problems, but that was little help when I heard of his suicide today. I had gotten online briefly at school to check the news, and saw the headline "Elliott Smith Dead at 34" at Pitchforkmedia. I was stunned to the point of no reaction, other than pulling up the full story. In the few seconds it took my mind to register the headline and get to the story, I suspected drugs or suicide while hoping I was wrong.

I don't remember much reaction to the story, either, other than such strong disbelief that on three or four occasions I had to blink, stop in the middle of the article, and start over at the top before finishing. I didn't cry, but I thought I was going to, and went off to sit in the bathroom for a second to regain my composure. I was able to put it out of my mind for the remainder of the day, though, but the first thing I did when I got home was lay in bed and put on "Needle in the Hay".

Oddly enough, I found this more comforting than depressing. I'm reminded of a quote Elliott was fond of using to explain his music. He hated it when people simply labelled his records as "sad". His rationale? "Playing them has always made me happy," he would say. I have to agree. The bulk of Smith's music can be quite depressing, but I've always felt better listening to his records.

He may have fallen to his personal demons, and his music is a record of that, but all of it was packaged with beautiful melodies. Elliott Smith's lyrics were poetry. And I don't mean that in a "they are so beautiful it's poetry" sense, although they are that beautiful, but his words were actually poetic. He structured words and rhymes in a way that no other songwriter of this generation can. And trying to describe the effect created when the words were matched up to one of his delicate vocal melodies is a waste of effort.

Elliott's guitar playing was also fantastic, and really, every aspect of his musicianship was incredible. The fact that he was able to create great music with just his voice and a guitar and then create more great music with his later, more lushly orchestrated albums is a credit to the range of his ability. I have no doubt in my mind that Elliott could have gone on making brilliant records for years and years.

When a girl in my class noticed I was in a pretty detached mood and tried to get me to smile, I tried in vain to explain about Elliott. I didn't really get much farther than asking her if she'd seen "Good Will Hunting" in an effort to explain who he was. That's kind of fitting, too. I haven't spoken with many people who like Smith on only a casual level. Most people either aren't fans of his stuff or completely love him. I think that's because it's so easy to make a personal connection with Elliott. I know his music has meant a great deal to me.

But to fall back on that quote again, the attraction to him is the beauty of the music and how it makes me feel. I'm sad that Elliott is gone, but I'm listening to his music as I type this, and I'm still more on the side of being comforted by his voice than being driven to tears because he's gone. The greatest compliment I can give Elliott is that not only did he make himself happy by playing his songs, he made me happy, too.

Rest in peace, Elliott.

(Dustin Pangonis is a volunteer staff writer for 2 Walls Webzine)