AA.VV.
To: Elliott From: Portland

A sad harmonica, a guitar, and a voice: "they're waking you up to close the bar, the street's wet you can tell by the sound of the cars…". Thus with the bittersweet "Clementine" The Decemberists open this collection of Elliott Smith's songs gathered in the first - indispensable - tribute made just over two years after the tragic death of the American singer-songwriter. From the music emerges a memory that cannot be devoid of bitterness, it couldn't be otherwise when thinking about his tragedy. However, this collection does not contribute to increasing the suffering. In fact, although the category of tributes easily lends itself to being placed now among vacuous commercial phenomena, now among operations of vulgar musical profiteering, in this case, it is difficult to express a negative judgment outright because the sensation that emerges from the notes is that of a sincere, respectful, and clean homage. This is already evident from the title, which affectionately addresses Elliott as if these songs were postcards to be sent to the sky from Portland, his and all these artists' hometown who decided to make the album. A list of musicians that does not gather big names, stars worthy of the mainstream, or usual guests of the major labels. Commendably, a portion of the sales proceeds will be donated to the non-profit organization "Free Arts for Abused Children". For all these reasons, it is hard to turn up one's nose snobbishly at this work.

That these covers do not have the same charm as the original songs, present quite a few weaknesses and uncertainties, and that certain arrangements appear questionable is almost banal if not obvious to say. The comparison with the original does not hold, indeed perhaps there is no point in making it because Elliott Smith, despite not having had in life the fortune he would have deserved, possessed in his interpretations a particular charm often made of vital suffering, even when the music was seemingly bright and dreamy. These versions, however, for as well done and heartfelt as they may be at times, never really manage to reach this spirit. It must be simply admitted that they do not really add anything. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because they didn't intend to. The purpose of the operation is another: to gather to remember, maybe with a bit of emotion, which becomes rhetoric only when it is not honest, and this doesn't seem to be the case.

Thus, without thinking too much, it is nonetheless a pleasure to listen to songs like "The Biggest Lie" in the uncertain but spontaneous version by Dolorean or the successful rendition of "Between The Bars" by Amelia or again the rough "Needle In The Hay" interpreted by Eric Matthews. Certainly, some episodes do not appear quite successful like the naïve and frankly vacuous rendition of "Ballad Of Big Nothing" by "The Thermals", and I don't know how elegant it can be considered to close the album with the unpublished classic ("High Times") which, albeit intense in the compelling interpretation by Sean Croghan, romantically I would have preferred to know it still forgotten in some drawer where Elliott himself had left it.

However, it must be admitted that, despite these uncertainties, the emotions are not lacking, however spurious or isolated. If anything, one has to wonder where they come from. Elliott Smith’s personal story has a weight, of course, but sometimes you think that these songs are so beautiful that it's hard to ruin them: there is something between the notes, between the words that I don’t know what it is, but I know it cannot be entirely erased or betrayed. All in all, then, these suggestions come from the charm of these songs, so the album also has the merit of reminding us that for this reason above all it will be difficult to forget Elliott.