While I totally believe in the title of this entry, those are not my words. They are Elliott Smith’s words, they are the title of the last song on his last record, the record he didn’t live to see released.

I really, really love “from a basement on the hill.” But before I get into that let me just puke, or, er, cough all over the record industry for a minute.

Elliott Smith was an indie guy – not some megastar. He was a brilliant musician, but not pretty. He played clubs, not arenas. I used to call him sensitive beanie guy, because that was what he seemed like to me – a guy with a knit beanie who never got the girl but always deserved her. I didn’t know he was so sensitive that he would drive a knife through his own heart. But he clearly did not seem to be having a good time in his life. And he was totally anti of what the music business is these days.

So “from a basement on the hill” is released, one year after his death, to “commemorate” him… whatever. He was already commemorated to me and to countless other people who loved his music. We’d buy the new record no matter when it came out. Why not release it earlier? Later? Maybe this was a loving gesture by friends and family. Maybe I am just really cynical.

And then Rolling Stone gives it the big review, the first review, the review reserved for bigger. I guess this is what it takes for the indie guy – dying. It sort of makes me sick. Hopefully it is making Elliott Smith happy, wherever he is now.

All this doesn’t really matter in the end. What does matter, is that Elliott Smith’s spirit is alive and well all through the new record. When I first listened to it, I was like, WOW, this is fantastic, and it’s finished! It sounded the way it would if Elliott Smith were alive to complete it himself. But now I have listened to it a dozen more times and I know, it is absolutely not finished. Which gives it a sort of live effect, as if Elliott were rehearsing right in front of you. It adds something very special, and is way, way better than a perfected studio record.

I know two things for sure: one is, I believe that when you die you go to the next life and the other, I really suck when it comes to writing about music. I also know that “from a basement on the hill” has touched me, and it has nothing to do with life, death, stab wounds or beanies. It has only to do with one tortured soul with a gift. The rest doesn’t matter.

This entry was posted on Thursday, October 28th, 2004 at 6:57 pm and is filed under Adventures in Rock and Roll. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.