Elliott Smith, Lost and Found

My brother recently confessed to his ‘lameness’ as an Elliott Smith fan. That is not to say that he is lame because he is an Elliott Smith Fan, but because he is a fan who rarely listens to the music. I am not quite sure that he is right about being lame.

Some food is so sweet that only children and gluttons can eat large amounts of it. Strong drink is poured in small glasses. Spices are held in abeyance and delivered parsimoniously. Some things are just so pure and strong that to be digested they must be diluted.

The beauty of a song, a poem or any artwork is not the same as food or drink. It cannot be diluted to be enjoyed over time. If the potency is overwhelming, the only solution is to take it in small doses.

And that, my brother and friends, is Elliott Smith. His music is beyond morose. His lyrics are exceptional and often harrowing. The combination of the two is a taut tonic that can uplift your spirits or tear them down. How is this possible?

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