Sunday Best (Week 7)

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Elliott Smith has and will always mean so much to me on so many levels. In the months and now years after his death, there are days when his songs just haunt me to no end. This song that i’m posting tonight is probably one of the most painfully beautiful, and at the same time haunting songs that he ever wrote. It is an outtake from the Basement sessions. Elliott had such a power in his writing and recording, and I don’t even think that he was aware of it.

New Disaster

the ghost of your smile is always looking for new
bodies to haunt
and its been here
and dissapeared
its hanging around aloofly for awhile
gradually gone
its pleasing
and freezing
well i wonder what it is you’re after
keeping company with this disaster
you looked all over town
got turned around
to walk back through the mud
the kind you had left behind you
everybody is the same in this long no-win game
where every new blood gets time to
become resigned
now i wonder what it is you’re after
keeping company with this disaster
why you never tried to tame your master
you just blow through the coals
blow through the coals
blow through the coals
till everyone knows
that your smile is just a ghost
the ghost of your smile was seen on a body in the park
its old news
you see that its no use
waiting to start
waiting to light
waiting till dark
i told you man
i told you
well i wonder what it is you’re after
keeping company with this disaster
why you never tried to tame your master

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Something special happens when Benjamin Gibbard gets the opportunity to play by himself with just an acoustic guitar. This is taken from a performance at KEXP on 6/6/03. There is just something special about stripping down all of the electronic elements of The Postal Service’s version of this song. If you allow it, it can be like a new song. I love when old songs become new songs. It’s something that absolutely enthralls me on a daily basis.

Recycled Air (Acoustic)

I take a breath and pull the air in ’til there’s nothing left
I’m feeling green like teenage lovers between the sheets

Ba ba ba ba …

Knuckles clenched to white as the landing gear retract for flight
My head’s a balloon inflating with the altitude

Ba ba ba ba…

I watch the patchwork farms’ slow fade into the ocean’s arms
And from here they can’t see me stare
The stale taste of recycled air
I watch the patchwork farms’ slow fade into the ocean’s arms
Calm down, release your cares
The stale taste of recycled air

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