The Giant Panther

All is quiet on New Year's Day. I can remember when U2's War was released. I was a measly 23 years of age, but I instantly knew they had broken through. I loved October, particularly a little known U2 song called I Threw a Brick Through a Window, but when New Year's Day hit the airwaves it was A New Day Yesterday (thank you Ian) even though it's an old day now. It's kind of funny how the song New Year's Day may never be able to be shelved the songs like David Bowie's 1984 or Prince's 1999 have been. No date. I bet even U2 can't stand that song now. It definitely does describe something very tangible no? Before I blather on, Welcome back to The Giant Panther. I don't know where he's been hiding, but glad he's back on the beam and re-energized about posting...

I didn't come to talk about U2, new beginnings, or resolutions. I came to talk about Elliott Smith. Chances are he's not a very big draw amongst your friends. If you didn't hear Waltz #2 during it's two month run on the radio in 1998 (Happenings Ten Years Time Ago for crying out loud!) it's quite possible you have never heard an Elliott Smith song on the radio. I never would have heard of him myself but for these two female bartenders at one of my favorite hole in the wall bars in Boston called Bukowski's. Obviously named for German American writer Charles Bukowski, this bar is a no frills beer and wine joint on Dalton Street in historic Back Bay Boston. I would have linked you folks to their web site, but it appears they don't even have one. Now that's what I call no frills!

Bukowski's has long been one of my favorite bars in Boston. Not because they have 112 flavors of beer on their menu and delicious cheapo mcgeapo american style bar food served with care; it's because of the music they play. Finding a bar that plays decent music consistently is near impossible these days. I should open a bar for that one fact alone, but I know as an Irishman that is probably not the smartest idea I've ever had. In Boston and Cambridge there are maybe ten bars you can count on to either have a great jukebox (not one of those god awful "make mine next for an extra selection" two songs per CD jukeboxes you see everywhere), I'm talking about a real jukebox with full CDs and a great selection. Charlie's Kitchen in Harvard Square comes to mind. So does The Seven's on Charles Street in Beacon Hill. J.J. Foley's on Kingston Street in the Financial District is a third. A bar that not only has a good jukebox, but isn't afraid to play it loud...with good sound quality. I think nothing of pouring five or ten dollars in these jukeboxes even if I don't plan on being there very long or know if I'll hear even a single song I played. It's just such a pleasure to spend time in these places. I have to admit that I don't really care much for any bar that doesn't put the accent on music and sound quality. It blows my mind frankly. I don't care who the clientele is or what they represent. Lousy sound just grates on me like nobody's business. Where was I? Oh yeah, Bukowski's...what makes this place even better than these other places I mentioned is they let their bartenders play whatever they want complete with volume. Whole CDs. It can be very educational if you are a sponge like me...

One day about five years ago I strolled into Bukowski's in the late afternoon. The girls behind the bar were singing along to Elliot Smith's Figure 8 CD. I had never heard anything else by him except that one song called Waltz #2. As I often did, I inquired and wrote down what they told me. Half the time I'd hit Newbury Comics on the way home and picked up the CDs I'd just asked about in the bar. Those were Good Times; Damn Good Times. Sorry, I just can't help myself sometimes. In those days, I would grab an entire handful of CDs by an artist I was curious about on somebody's say so. I think I bought Figure 8, Either/Or and XO that day. It's kind of dangerous because if you don't get to them right away they could all sit unlistened to. Luckily I gave these a fair shake. Some years later I read one of his biographies called Elliott Smith and The Big Nothing too. I was intrigued; not only about his mysterious death/suicide, but where this guy came from. If memory serves he was born in Nebraska and migrated to Texas and Portland, OR during his childhood. He attended Hampshire College in Amherst, MA and struggled his brains out with self confidence. That's tough for a solo artist huh? Maybe he was manic depressive, but the way his life ended was just plain sad.

I have had real trouble relating Elliott Smith to friends. I made the mistake of dumping his entire catalogue on a friend of mine and he was lukewarm at best to his music. I can see where that might happen, but it only made me more determined to find a way to boil this guy down for mass consumption. I was at The Giant Panther's DJ gig about three weeks ago and he didn't have Smith's whole catalogue on his computer. It was surprising because he seems to have nearly everything since the turn of the century the way I think I have nearly everything since 1965. He didn't have a copy of Junk Bond Trader, one of my all time favorite Elliott Smith tracks from Figure 8. As I sit here typing I'm actually recalculating my top five Elliott Smith cuts. Five Songs. That's it. If you can find a way to latch onto these five songs something might click for you here. Yes Steven Paul "Elliott" Smith is basically just an acoustic singer songwriter and they are a dime a dozen, but I swear this guy was just getting started. It seemed as if he'd been through the worst in his life. I don't know why he did it, if he did it, but he shouldn't have. Elliott Smith died on October 21, 2003 at age 34 in Los Angeles. Based on these five songs I would love to have witnessed his musical future. Know what else makes this guy great? Someone else could swoop in and give you five completely different songs that they like best. Don't be afraid to leave a comment to that effect. OK, we're off in 2009...