Today marks the anniversary of Elliott Smith's passing. He was 34 when he took his life. Such a sad thing when an artist is so haunted and tormented. From his official website, sweetadeline.net, the biography pages unveil the poetic soul named Elliott Smith. The text begins to read "April 15, 1998. It was an unseasonably sultry night in Cambridge. I pushed my way cautiously through the crowd at the famed (but still gloriously tacky) Middle East, relieved to see lots of faces as nerdy, socially ill-at-ease and psychically overdrawn as my own."
Socially ill-at-ease. That is the key description. What is the attraction and charm of the music of Elliott Smith? To me it is that quiet and gentle reveal of vulnerability that pierced it's way through his voice and his lyrics. As the author writes "With Elliott, I had found someone who gave voice to the outsider's way of looking at the world."
The world is a little less poetic without his special contribution to art and music. And yes Elliott, we do miss you.
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