Elliott Smith wrote love songs, but they weren't about women, they were about drugs. It's easy to mistake the two, women and drugs, when written about in songs, because they pretty much cause the same emotions: longing, sorrow, regret, desperate need that eventually drives you to murder or suicide. It's easy to listen to this song and think that it's about something other than drugs, which is part of the joy of music, but know this: this song is about doing drugs.

Elliott Smith is a legend. His second album, this one, is legendary. I am not appreciative of his later work, where he gets all swoopy with the string arrangements and everything turns so goddamn grandiose, but this album is probably one of the best ever. It is easily the best album written entirely about drugs, too.

Which is probably why every time I run into someone who is familiar with Elliott Smith (and usually they can even sort of play some of his songs) they are either a former or current drug addict, and not pussy drugs, but Elliott Smith-class drugs, the real shit as it were. Constantina indeed.

I love this song. It's beautiful, haunting, hauntingly beautiful, like most of Elliott's work. If you're reading this site, you've probably heard it before, you're probably familiar and you've fallen in and out of love with it... and if you haven't, then you should. You should have a mad love affair with the whole of the album.

Right now, go.