I started writing this yesterday, when I was full of energy and spring time enthusiasm. At the time, Elliot Smith was too morose, too wistful and sad for my mood and I was going to write all about how ES had invented the quiet indie boy voice and how his death had given him a certain cache that I'm not entirely sure he earned...but today, dead tired from a late night of fun and a long day at work, wired from too much coffee, but wiped out and listless...and with no bed in my immediate future, Elliot is exactly my mood.
Don't get me wrong, there are Smith songs that inspire me (Baby Britain, Cupid's Trick, Bled White, among others) but this quiet whispery Elliot is rarely my choice...but it takes days like today to remind me of their uses.
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