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Elliott Smith: He's Mr Dyingly Sad, And You're Mystifyingly Glad

R.J. Smith, Spin, January 1999

ELLIOTT SMITH recovers nicely. Just one hour ago he was sitting in a tiny backstage room, enjoying a postshow libation and breathing in a blue cloud of smoke courtesy of a gang of well-wishers. Soon, the crowd diminishes, enough for one dogged follower to claim Smith's attention. "You must be a Cat Stevens fan, the kind of music you play," this young man with opossum eyes says.

Total word count of piece: 1991

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