Something about hazy June days draws me to Elliott Smith, specifically "From a Basement on a Hill." I attribute half of this to nostalgia, and the other half to the raspy acoustic sound that is quite numbing from the inside out.
"He said really I just want to dance
Good and evil matched perfect, it's a great romance
I can deal with some psychic pain
If it'll slow down my higher brain
Veins full of disappearing ink
Vomiting in the kitchen sink
Disconnecting from the missing link
This is not my life
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
It's not what I'm like
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
Who couldn't get things right
Fond farewell to a friend"
~A Fond Farewell,
Elliott Smith, From a Basement on a Hall
