All We Know Is Falling

There are a lot of things in life, that make us tick. Music is the constant tick-tock that I hear in my head. As of late, I can't hear anything ticking.

 I see my record player sitting in my living room, covered with dust. The records on the shelves perfectly preserved in plastic, untouched. CD's stacked and scratched unable to be played even if I wanted to. A computer filled with years of music, that has lost all power to start.

I've lost the passion for the HUNT. The ever ending quest to discover the latest and greatest. Instead I find myself distracted, my head clouded with the sounds of mediocre pop music. It haunts me in my day to day, as it blares through the speakers at work. I am always asking, could this really be it? Have my musical tastes fizzled out and faded away. Is it a curse of my surroundings, in combination with my lack of passion for the chase?

Maybe.


Today I found myself searching...falling back on my laurels if you will.
Tonight, I am gonna open up that record player...pull some records off the shelves, and remember how I fell in love this "hobby" in the first place. The places, the people, the music...if only I could relive all those "perfect" moments all over again. Maybe the playlist is a little embarrassing, but nostalgia always is...

"I fear I might break, I fear can't take it. Tonight I'll lie awake, feeling empty."

FIGURE 8's and a Needle in the Hay

Smith performing in Los Angeles, February 2003.

I can still vividly remember the strums of the guitar as Richie exited the scene into the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror as he shaved off his beard, head, and as he whispered "I'm gonna kill myself tomorrow"....I was sixteen the first time I saw the Royal Tenenbaums, and the first time I heard the depressing vocals of Elliott Smith. I felt this instant connection with each stroke of the guitar, each whisper of the lyrics. I felt this gravitation toward Smith, and this melodic expression of my own depression. Depression and thoughts of suicide were no news to me, as I had been transported to the depressing skies of Portland only a few short months before I heard the enchanting tones of Smiths music. For me, it is where it all began. Smith's lyrics, cascaded through every corner of my mind, and spoke to the very depths of my tortured teenage soul.

Elliott Smith, and Portland is where music really began for me. I had always had an interest in the popular, but didn't really understand what "great" music was. It was moving to Portland, and finding this depressive identity that began to open up the doors musically for me.

As ten years have passed, I still find myself having such a deep connection with Smith's songs. He has seen me through years of darkness, tragic breakups, nights in bars, between the bars. Each song relates to the songs of my heart, the very essence of my soul.

Even though the rain, and the dark skies of Portland, soundtracked my the depressive tones of Smith's voice made me a recluse in my early twenties, I am thankful for the journey of discovery it bestowed upon me. It opened up the doors to a vast universe, I never knew existed.