USA, 1995, singer-songwriter / lo-fi / indie folk
It is a testament to the beauty of Elliott Smith’s heart and the genius of his musical mind that he can take corny, trite lyrics like “oh my darling, Clementine / dreadful sorry, Clementine” and turn them into something so heartbreaking and memorable that I can’t even remember how the original goes. This is the most perfect album to listen to while you drink yourself into slow-mo. I just wish it snowed where I live. I miss making snow angels.