brent johnson is thankful for the following Heatmiser song as we prepare for Thanksgiving …
You may not know Heatmiser. They’re one of the lost bands from alt-rock’s 1990s heyday — a quartet from Portland, Ore., that made three fantastic albums amid little fanfare before breaking up 15 years ago.
You may know their members, though. Singer/guitarist Neil Gust went on to form late-’90s rock band No. 2. Drummer Tony Lash later produced The Dandy Warhols. Bassist Sam Coomes is the frontman for alt-rockers Quasi.
But Heatmiser’s most famous member is Elliott Smith, who went on to become one of modern alt-rock’s most cherished icons as a solo artist.
He and Gust each wrote half of Heatmiser’s songs — hard-edged pop with splashes of punk, folk and noise. Many were great. But none have moved me as much as Smith’s opus with the band, ‘Antonio Carlos Jobin,’ a track from their second album, 1994’s Cop And Speeder.
Music is easy to take for granted. It’s so omnipresent that it’s almost part of the air. Especially in an age when people no longer trek to record stores for the latest release. They simply Google it, YouTube it, Pandora it or download it.
But tomorrow is the day we give thanks. And I have a lot to be thankful for: Parents who have always been there. A talented brother who is also my favorite person. A best friend to run a website with and confide in. Dozens of other friends who understand the beauty of humor and randomness.
I am also truly grateful for music. It’s baffling to think how musicians around the earth and throughout time have somehow continue to find new sets of notes and words to entrance ears, expand minds and reflect lives. It’s magical.
‘Antonio Carlos Jobim’ always reminds me of that. The title is a tribute to the famed Brazilian composer, but the song itself is mysteriously vague. It starts out with Elliott Smith trademarks: soft guitar, vulnerable lyrics and almost-whispered vocals. It sounds heartbroken, sweet and sinister at the same time. Then, it builds. Another guitar joins in, the drumbeat picks up. And it all explodes in a burst of emotion halfway in. It may be my favorite song of all time.
Smith, of course, continued to put out wonderful music after Heatmiser, attracting a devoted cult following. His early albums were alluring mixtures of quiet folk and jagged rock. Then, in 1997, Smith was suddenly thrust into the mainstream when — in one of the rare moments where the Academy Awards recognized quality music — ‘Miss Misery,’ his brilliant theme from Good Will Hunting, was nominated for an Oscar. By the 2000s, he was making glorious pop inspired by the Beatles and Beach Boys. But in 2003, he died in what police called a suicide.
I’m just thankful for the work he left behind. Tracks like the one above show me the power a simple song can have. It makes me feel, it makes me want to create, it makes me happy.
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