Month: January 2014

King’s Crossing

I have been listening to Elliott Smith a lot recently. This re-discovery was spurred by an excellent article on Pitchfork in October, commemorating the 10th anniversary of his tragic death.

I first discovered Elliott Smith in 2002, during my first year of university. I vividly remember the first time I heard “Needle In The Hay” as the soundtrack to Luke Wilson’s character’s suicide attempt in The Royal Tenenbaums. I still adore that film and that particular scene is probably my favourite music-sync moment in a film ever.

Elliott is undoubtedly one of the finest songwriters of my generation. I love that even after thousands of listens over 10+ years I’m still hearing new things in his music and lyrics. I love that his albums chart a progression – as he matured, Elliott started taking more risks sonically and lyrically. I love that as much as I obsess over choosing favourites and making lists, I can’t decide which album is his best or my favourite. Lately, I’ve been primarily listening to the B-sides collection New Moon and his last proper album, From A Basement On The Hill, both released posthumously. There’s a particular song from the latter that is killing me this week: “King’s Crossing.” Perhaps it’s partially because I live near Kings Cross station in London (though I doubt there is a connection between the two) but more likely it’s the realisation that this might be Elliott Smith’s greatest lyrical work.

“King’s Crossing” encapsulates so many different ideas and themes in under five minutes – fame, addiction, the creative process, death – and uses incredible, often harrowing imagery. In particular, I love the second half of the second verse: “the method acting that pays my bills keeps a fat man feeding in Beverly Hills / i got a heavy metal mouth that hurls obscenity and i get my check from the trash treasury because i took my own insides out.” If that doesn’t describe Elliott’s disillusionment with the entertainment industry, I don’t know what would.

“King’s Crossing” by Elliott Smith

the king’s crossing is the main attraction
dominoes are falling in a chain reaction
the scraping subject ruled by fear told me
whiskey works better than beer
the judge is on vinyl, decisions are final
and nobody gets a reprieve
and every wave is tidal – if you hang around
you’re going to get wet
i can’t prepare for death any more than i already have

all you can do now is watch the shells
the game looks easy that’s why it sells
frustrated fireworks inside your head
are going to stand and deliver talk instead
the method acting that pays my bills
keeps a fat man feeding in beverly hills
i got a heavy metal mouth that hurls obscenity
and i get my check from the trash treasury
because i took my own insides out

it don’t matter ‘cause i have no sex life
all i want to do now is inject my ex-wife
i’ve seen the movie and i know what happens
it’s christmas time
and the needles on the tree
a skinny santa is bringing something to me
his voice is overwhelming, but his speech is slurred
and i only understand every other word

open your parachute and grab your gun
falling down like an omen, a setting sun
read the part and return at five
it’s a hell of a role if you can keep it alive
but i don’t care if i fuck up
i’m going on a date with a rich white lady
ain’t life great?
give me one good reason not to do it
(because i love you)
so do it

this is the place where time reverses
dead men talk to all the pretty nurses
instruments shine on a silver tray
don’t let me get carried away
don’t let me get carried away
don’t let me be carried away

I’ve made a Spotify playlist of my 26 favourite Elliott Smith songs. I suggest listening on shuffle to get a full understanding of his range as a songwriter and the emotional dynamism of his music.

We are going to die and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place, but who will never in fact see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of the Sahara. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively outnumbers the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here.

Richard Dawkins, Unweaving the Rainbow (Source)

Happy Anniversary London

In the early hours of Pacific Standard Time on January 11, 2012, my old and dear friend Agatha drove me from her apartment in downtown Vancouver to the YVR Airport. With four over-stuffed bags, a pillow and a small acoustic guitar, I flew to London to start a new life adventure. Ever since I visited Europe for the first time 16 years prior, it was my goal to live abroad and at age 28, armed with a 2-year UK visa, it was time to take the risk. I had no idea what to expect, especially how culturally and economically dissimilar England is to Canada. If someone had warned me then how challenging the next two years would be, I wouldn’t have believed it (but I wouldn’t have been deterred).

Tomorrow marks the 2 year anniversary of my arrival in London. The fact that I’ve last this long, despite some formidable challenges, is a landmark achievement in my life. Thank you to those in London (too many to name here) who have eased the transition by filling my new life with light and laughter. Thanks to the very few who have kept in touch and support me from afar. I’m still standing, better than I ever did!

Money and art

In an effort to avoid watching Breaking Bad before bed – it generally takes me a while to fall asleep after watching anything and this particular show is having an adverse affect on my dreams – I came across an article in VICE about the importance of money in an artist’s ability to create great work. The author, American visual artist Molly Crabapple, isn’t saying anything revolutionary – this is a topic that my friends and I discuss often – yet it’s something I don’t read about enough. (I have followed and enjoyed the conversations about artists as entrepreneurs that’s been sparked in the UK recently, especially this essay by Bryony Kimmings.) [P.S. Have a read of Molly’s article and then look at the art that she makes; really beautiful, powerful stuff.]

The topic is pertinent because tonight I had a couple different conversations with people my age about how broke we all are and how, at age 30, this comes as somewhat of a surprise. I don’t think any of us feel entitled to money but we are all working hard to attain a dream of self-sufficiency (dare I say comfort) through our artistic pursuits and keep coming up short. One friend I was speaking to is close to giving up on a career in acting, something she’s very good at but doesn’t seem to be finding much success in, and not for lack of trying. This made me a bit sad for her but I get it. Priorities change and circumstances trump desire eventually, for most of us. I have felt my priorities shift in the past year, which is actually really refreshing, though I am now focused more on sustainability than creativity.

I find comfort in the fact that when I look at my peers, nearly everyone’s in the same situation as me, financially and professionally. There are a couple notable exceptions – friends who have done extraordinarily well, one of whom is probably set up for life financially due to his incredible (and well-deserved) artistic success. But as Molly’s article points out, it’s not simply due to their talent; money is a factor in their ability to make high-calibre art. Money isn’t the primary factor, of course – I know plenty of ‘trust-fund artists’ who have had far more opportunities than most but haven’t succeeded yet (and some of them are very talented).

Perhaps it’s a perpetual cycle – you make something great and people expect more of your work, so you have to spend more money and time to make the next great thing. That makes sense but if you don’t eventually attain a level of financial security, it is hard to maintain a career in that cycle. And most artists never get there. I used to think being a successful artist was like Natural Selection (or “the cream rises to the top” or whatever cliché you want to employ) but now I’m sure that’s not true. It’s a mix of talent, money, perseverance and planning. (Successful people often say “luck” is part of it but I can’t help but think that they’re just saying that to appear more modest, but I digress).

I haven’t made music in a long time and I miss it. It’s something I crave in my bones – the meditative quality of playing, the addictive rush of making something and the fun of collaboration. One of my resolutions for 2014 is to play a gig in London, though really I’m desperate to be in a band – or, simply, to play music with talented, like-minded people on a regular basis. I really hope it happens. But will I ever make a career out of making things? I don’t know. I’m not giving up yet, financial security by damned.