Got a retailer Backbone

At the Henry Fonda Theatre in '03, a fragile looking Elliott Smith sat alone on stage, forgetting lyrics as he retailer fumbled through songs.
'Get a backbone!' Somebody cried out.
The slogan on Smith's blue t-shirt read: "I love metal"; "love" signified by the shape of a black heart.
'Get a backbone?' Smith echoed, ceasing to play. 'I could tell you about a dream I had last night.' He rambled on, incredulous.

He looks Heatmiser-era young in this one. I wanted to accentuate his innocence. If you turn it up and listen closely to Heatmiser's Get Lucky, at about the one minute and forty second mark you can hear him in the background. 'Fuck!' He yelps. It's like one of those hidden lines of Robert Plant's on the Zeppelin albums, or like the reported farts in Mars Volta records. I like it when Smith's having fun. Took himself out by stabbing himself in the chest, apparently. It's alright, ma, the legend lives on.

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