Elliott Smith Sings About Broken Hearts Broken Homes and the Drinking Life
Elliott Smith
Elliott Smith  lives at the collision of three different neighborhoods in Brooklyn  but the noise of the traffic and the blare of the salsa  rock and rap that battle for airspace on the street are being kept at bay. It's midafternoon  and  Smith  is tucked inside  his  favorite neighborhood bar  the kind of dark place where every patron sits alone and says little  the kind of place where  Smith  spends most of  his  days.
It's been a year and a half since  Smith  left Portland  Oregon  where  his  work with the band Heatmiser and  his  haunted solo albums had made  him  a star on the local music scene. In the spring of 1997  Heatmiser disbanded and  Smith  left for New York.  He 'd hoped the move would give  him  a sense of anonymity  but that goal was hampered when  his  song "Miss Misery" appeared on the Good Will Hunting soundtrack and was nominated for an Oscar. Soon  he  will have to contend with the attention brought by  his  new album  XO  which is  his  major-label debut and a lush departure from  his  usually spare offerings.
But  as today can attest  in New York you can always be alone in a crowd.  Smith  spend most of  his  days in coffee shops and bars  reading ( he  just finished Tolstoy's Resurrection) and composing songs in  his  head. "I write almost exclusively in public places " says  Smith   29. "I just think of stuff  chord changes and words. I know the bartenders  and they don't think it's weird if I ask to borrow a pen. "
Smith  smiles.  He  is shy  but  his  manner is sweet  not distant. Because  his  solo albums have been quiet singer-songwriter fare  there is a presumption that  Smith 's life is an open book. That is not the case.  Smith 's songs have always been less confession than collage â beautifully rendered glimpses of ugly realities  pieced together with little more than voice and guitar.
So when you ask  Smith  to tell  his  story   he  hesitates. When  he  finally begins   he  speaks as softly as  he  sings. As in  his  songs   Smith  is intelligent  direct  unsparing. But while  his  voice on record gives even  his  darkest lyrics a quiet strength  in conversation  his  tone betrays a sense of uncertainty. When grim details are spoken  not sung  there is nothing to cushion their impact.
"Most of the people I knew  their parents were divorced " says  Smith  of  his  childhood spent outside Dallas. "Or else their dad beat them with a pool cue. There was a guy in the neighborhood who shot my cat for getting into the garbage. He beat up on his kid  and then he shot my cat."
 Smith 's own parents divorced when he was a year old. His mother remarried when he was four  and his new home life was not happy. "There were family problems " says  Smith  succinctly. "It wasn't a good situation."
Outside the house   Smith  spent most of  his  time getting into fights. As  he  talks about them   he  touches  his  nose instinctively. "It's probably been broken more than once " says  Smith . "I have a bunch of scars. But I don't get into fights anymore."  He  shifts in  his  seat â  his  jeans too baggy  small T-shirt drooping off  him  â and it's impossible not to notice that  Smith  is more frail than anyone you'd expect to see in a bar fight.
"But sometimes it's the little guy who'll kick your ass " says  Smith . "Because  he 's been picked on to the point where  he  knows what to do."  He  pauses. "It's probably pretty easy to put together why somebody who grew up in Texas getting in fights a lot would not want to get up on the stage and start belting out songs at the top of their lungs. I've had enough of people yelling."
It's early evening in Manhattan  and  Smith  is polishing off another pint. It's a different day  a different borough  but the scene is familiar: a dark bar  twilight  the last drink before one too many. These are the things in  Smith 's life that' remain constant. Many' others have changed.
The strangest changes are that "Miss Misery" was nominated for an Oscar; that  on February 10th   Smith  performed the whispered tale of a broken relationship in front of 1 billion people; that  he  took a bow standing between Trisha Yearwood and Celine Dion.
"I had fully armored  myself  against having to be crushed by the presence of Celine Dion " .says Smith . "But she was the nicest person I've met in a while. Afterward I'd get these indie-rock kids saying  'I can't believe you had to hold Celine Dion's hand.' I said  'I liked holding her hand because she's a nice person. In fact  right now you're  being much more narrow-minded and shallow than she is. You're in a very backward position here. You should rethink it.'"
 Smith  gives his head a bewildered shake  then takes a long drink. Of all the transformations that he has been through lately  the most obvious is the level of scrutiny he is subjected to. And it's clear he is learning on the fly.
Smith's musical heroes are the Beatles  the Clash  Hank Williams and the Kinks. His greatest inspiration  for the breadth of his work  is Elvis Costello. On XO  for the first time in  Smith 's career  you can hear it all: the graceful folk he's perfected  elaborate orchestrations  an a cappella song  piano ballads  years of anger released in lilting harmony and a newfound. hopefulness couched in energized pop tunes. At times it sounds like a lost follow-up to Revolver.
"I love the Beatles â they're my favorite band â but I don't have any desire to cop the Beatles " says  Smith . "The reason they're my favorite band is because they went further with melody than any other band that I've ever come across."
 Smith  turns to his beer to escape the conversation for a moment  then smiles apologetically  as if he is the last person who should assess his work. Only recently did  Smith  even realize that people perceived  his  songs as bleak. "I didn't think of them that way "  he  says. "They made me happier. But now I would agree. The second record  especially  was really dark."
[TGT] lives at the collision of three different neighborhoods in Brooklyn  but the noise of the traffic and the blare of the salsa  rock and rap that battle for airspace on the street are being kept at bay. It's midafternoon  and  Smith  is tucked inside  his  favorite neighborhood bar  the kind of dark place where every patron sits alone and says little  the kind of place where   [TGT]   spends most of   [TGT]   days.
It's been a year and a half since   [TGT] left Portland  Oregon  where   [TGT]   work with the band Heatmiser and   [TGT]   haunted solo albums had made   [TGT]   a star on the local music scene. In the spring of 1997  Heatmiser disbanded and   [TGT] left for New York.   [TGT]  'd hoped the move would give   [TGT]   a sense of anonymity  but that goal was hampered when   [TGT]   song "Miss Misery" appeared on the Good Will Hunting soundtrack and was nominated for an Oscar. Soon   [TGT]   will have to contend with the attention brought by   [TGT]   new album  XO  which is   [TGT]   major-label debut and a lush departure from   [TGT]   usually spare offerings.
But  as today can attest  in New York you can always be alone in a crowd.   [TGT]   spend most of   [TGT]   days in coffee shops and bars  reading (  [TGT]   just finished Tolstoy's Resurrection) and composing songs in   [TGT]   head. "I write almost exclusively in public places " says  Smith   29. "I just think of stuff  chord changes and words. I know the bartenders  and they don't think it's weird if I ask to borrow a pen. "
 [TGT]   smiles.   [TGT]   is shy  but   [TGT]   manner is sweet  not distant. Because  [TGT]  [TGT]   solo albums have been quiet singer-songwriter fare  there is a presumption that  Smith 's life is an open book. That is not the case.   [TGT]  's songs have always been less confession than collage â beautifully rendered glimpses of ugly realities  pieced together with little more than voice and guitar.
So when you ask   [TGT] to tell   [TGT]   story    [TGT]   hesitates. When  he  finally begins   he  speaks as softly as  he  sings. As in  his  songs    [TGT]   is intelligent  direct  unsparing. But while   [TGT]   voice on record gives even   [TGT]   darkest lyrics a quiet strength  in conversation   [TGT]   tone betrays a sense of uncertainty. When grim details are spoken  not sung  there is nothing to cushion their impact.
"Most of the people I knew  their parents were divorced " says  Smith  of  his  childhood spent outside Dallas. "Or else their dad beat them with a pool cue. There was a guy in the neighborhood who shot my cat for getting into the garbage. He beat up on his kid  and then he shot my cat."
 Smith 's own parents divorced when he was a year old. His mother remarried when he was four  and his new home life was not happy. "There were family problems " says  Smith  succinctly. "It wasn't a good situation."
Outside the house   Smith  spent most of  his  time getting into fights. As  he  talks about them   he  touches  his  nose instinctively. "It's probably been broken more than once " says  Smith . "I have a bunch of scars. But I don't get into fights anymore."  He  shifts in  his  seat â  his  jeans too baggy  small T-shirt drooping off  him  â and it's impossible not to notice that  Smith  is more frail than anyone you'd expect to see in a bar fight.
"But sometimes it's the little guy who'll kick your ass " says  Smith . "Because  he 's been picked on to the point where  he  knows what to do."  He  pauses. "It's probably pretty easy to put together why somebody who grew up in Texas getting in fights a lot would not want to get up on the stage and start belting out songs at the top of their lungs. I've had enough of people yelling."
It's early evening in Manhattan  and  Smith  is polishing off another pint. It's a different day  a different borough  but the scene is familiar: a dark bar  twilight  the last drink before one too many. These are the things in  Smith 's life that' remain constant. Many' others have changed.
The strangest changes are that "Miss Misery" was nominated for an Oscar; that  on February 10th   Smith  performed the whispered tale of a broken relationship in front of 1 billion people; that  he  took a bow standing between Trisha Yearwood and Celine Dion.
"I had fully armored  myself  against having to be crushed by the presence of Celine Dion " .says Smith . "But she was the nicest person I've met in a while. Afterward I'd get these indie-rock kids saying  'I can't believe you had to hold Celine Dion's hand.' I said  'I liked holding her hand because she's a nice person. In fact  right now you're  being much more narrow-minded and shallow than she is. You're in a very backward position here. You should rethink it.'"
 Smith  gives his head a bewildered shake  then takes a long drink. Of all the transformations that he has been through lately  the most obvious is the level of scrutiny he is subjected to. And it's clear he is learning on the fly.
Smith's musical heroes are the Beatles  the Clash  Hank Williams and the Kinks. His greatest inspiration  for the breadth of his work  is Elvis Costello. On XO  for the first time in  Smith 's career  you can hear it all: the graceful folk he's perfected  elaborate orchestrations  an a cappella song  piano ballads  years of anger released in lilting harmony and a newfound. hopefulness couched in energized pop tunes. At times it sounds like a lost follow-up to Revolver.
"I love the Beatles â they're my favorite band â but I don't have any desire to cop the Beatles " says  Smith . "The reason they're my favorite band is because they went further with melody than any other band that I've ever come across."
 Smith  turns to his beer to escape the conversation for a moment  then smiles apologetically  as if he is the last person who should assess his work. Only recently did  Smith  even realize that people perceived  his  songs as bleak. "I didn't think of them that way "  he  says. "They made me happier. But now I would agree. The second record  especially  was really dark."