4334 Sunset Blvd.

Have you ever had an old album pop up out of nowhere and demand that you listen to again?  That’s what happened to me back in the fall.  The album was Elliott Smith’s Figure 8, an album that I’d owned for years, but which felt like I’d never really heard.  It’s funny how that sometimes happens with certain albums; how for some reason the time is right for an album to be re-discovered.

The end of 2008 was a roller coaster ride. On one hand a once-in-a-generation financial meltdown that left everyone feeling like the world as we knew it could crumble with the next ATM withdrawal.  Enormous companies disappearing in the blink of an eye.  Junk Bond Trader indeed.

On the other hand there was a wave of hope and optimism like none I had ever seen in my life.  It was hard to stay level.

With this as the backdrop, I couldn’t stop listening to Figure 8. Even though it was written a decade earlier, it seemed to fit perfectly. It was my soundtrack to an uneven and emotionally turbulent ride that I never bought a ticket for.

Maybe it’s wrong to project my own emotional connections onto someone else’s work, especially someone as haunted as Elliott Smith. But maybe being able to do so is what makes us connect with great music, even if just on a subconscious level. It’s a comforting thought.

Last week I was in Los Angeles for the first time in a few years. I made sure I headed over to Silverlake and spent a few minutes at 4334 Sunset.  I thought about the past year, the ups and downs; the good and the bad.  There were messages written out all over the wall, and I shied my eyes away from reading them.  They weren’t for me, but I understood the connection.  I was glad my wife was there with me.  I still can’t stop listening to the album.  It’s fused to that period of time in my brain, but it still makes me think about the future.  For me, for us.  I’m glad the time was right.