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I've written here before about Elliott.
I hesitate to call him "my friend" because we didn't really know each other all that well although I interviewed him yonks ago and our Portland social circles have definitely overlapped before and since. I own a few of his guitars now (courtesy of his ex girlfriend JJ Gonson who some of you have admired here because of her insanely great photography) and some original lyrics too. Maybe I should say I'm "steward" of these.
I would encourage you all -- if you're fans -- to watch my friend Nickolas Rossi's documentary "Heaven Adores You." You can rent or own it on YouTube (and I've linked the first few minutes here). A number of us who knew Elliott and felt pretty protective of him during his lifetime (and even MORE protective of his legacy after he'd passed, given the circumstances of his death) finally agreed to participate in it after turning everyone else away, for years, and somehow it walks the fine line of being candid about his struggles with depression and addiction without trafficking in salacious nonsense or gossip.
In the final analysis, Elliott knew no other trade but to put his very personal observations on display in a very public place. It is the space between that Elliott explored, and the tug-of-war between these sparring catalysts that he spent his life attempting to reconcile.
This is the memorial I wrote for him immediately after he passed. I was fucking devastated (then and now), mostly because I felt like it was an ephemeral passing moment, a shooting star that had briefly appeared above the Earth and was already gone. So it's an inherently selfish thing -- I mourn his passing mostly because I know that there will be no more Elliott Smith music, and that's just a huge loss for the world. I miss him on the reg but these days I understand why he is gone far better than I did at that moment, where all I could feel was just bottomless loss.
Much love to you Elliott, wherever you are. Thank you for the music, which meant so much to me. Still does.
Oct 22, 2024
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Made this playlist for a dear friendo and sent it to him just days before he was killed in a way that felt so random and unfair.
I always admired him for his vulnerability in a world that's often criminally indifferent and doubly so when he came out and felt free at last.
Stay soft, fellow human đ¤
From an old Insta caption of his:
Feb 20, 2024
It's been a week since my brother Jacob passed. He was the last person I expected to goâan extremely active cyclist, hiker, and traveler. We still don't know what exactly happened, but in a matter of only half an hour he went from making his breakfast to his heart stoping.
So many of his traits I admired so much felt like things I lacked; he was disciplined, reliable, and energetic. He traveled the world and made friends across the whole globe, it seems. He was always adept at math, a subject I always struggled with.
He was only 18 months my junior. I literally can't remember my life without Jacob in it. At some points in our childhood he felt like my shadow. Since we were homeschooled during the early years of my life we spent so much time together. I took that for granted, but now I'm so grateful for all the hours of fort building, hole digging, camping, biking, basketball, getting destroyed by him playing NBA Live and womping on him in Mortal Kombat.
I really regret simply assuming he knew how much I loved him. We were brothers. We fought, argued, and teased each-other. He was such an appendage to my day-to-day that I didn't ever stop to tell him how dear he was to me, how proud I was of all he'd done, how grateful I was for all he contributed around the house and with the family, and how jealous I was of his fearlessness with change and travel.
People ask how I'm holding up, and it's hard to answer becauseâall things consideredâ I am doing alright. The hardest times are when my brain and nervous system still haven't realized he's gone: hearing the creak of a door and expecting him to walk in after a bike rideâhis cycling shoes clinking on the tile; learning some soccer news and wanting to text him about it; feeling eager to get his feedback on something I cooked.
But the most difficult thing has been encountering the pity and sorrow people have shown toward me, because that somehow reveals the scope of the loss and the depth to which folks cared about him and care about me. Knowing we share some impacts of this loss breaks my heart. I so deeply appreciate all the offers of help and reaching out, and yet I have nothing to offer. I have nothing for which to ask. My brain just short-circuits.
Perhaps the best thing you can do for me is to let your loved ones know how you feel. Find one person you have maybe taken for granted and share your love clearly so that they truly know how much you treasure them because they won't always be around.
May 6, 2024
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most days itâs fine but then I listen to âbetween the barsâ by Elliot Smith and it takes me back to last year when I still had them. Even when my heart yearns for the familiarity of our old bond I know weâll never laugh like we used to do. What a pity is to be a human and to know someone for so long and then be strangers.
Mar 9, 2025
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Hey tyler hopefully this doesnât violate some PI.FYI golden rule
But after nearly two years of writing, editing and arguing, my book about the EP is coming out in May and can be preordered here:
https://hozacrecords.com/product/aifl/
The book is about the origins, history and cultural impact of the EP since these little objects first started coming out in the 50s.
Over 50 of my music biz friends then helped me shape the list and review the top 200 ever released, according to us (ha).
For those of you who are into this kind of geekery/snobbery, I canât wait to hear what you think. A labor of love, as all books are! â¤ď¸
Mar 27, 2024
âSongs Of a Lost Worldâ coming to a goth listening station near you Nov 1 đ¤
The fr FW Me Friday the 13th the world was looking for
Sep 14, 2024
I will fail to explain just how much this band meant to me in the 90s.
So I will borrow from AV Club who did a fine job of distilling it:
âUnwound is the best band of the â90s. Not just because of how prolific, consistent, and uncompromising it was, but because of how perfectly Unwound nested in a unique space between some of the most vital forms of music that decade: punk, post-rock, indie rock, post-hardcore, slow-core, and experimental noise. That jumble of subgenres doesnât say much; in fact, it falls far short of what Unwound truly synthesized and stood for. Unwound stood for Unwound. But in a decade where most bands were either stridently earnest or stridently ironic, Unwound wasnât stridently anything. It was only itself. In one sense Unwound was the quietest band of the â90s, skulking around like a nerdy terror cell. In another sense it was the loudest, sculpting raw noise into contorted visions of inner turmoil and frustration.â
R.I.P. Vern Rumsey.
This is their finest song, from their finest album.
I really canât say enough about the sheer bloody minded genius of this group. đ¤
Mar 23, 2024