Elliott Smith

Roman Candle
Elliott Smith
Either/Or
XO
Figure 8
From A Basement On The Hill


Roman Candle (Cavity Search '94) Rating: B+
Recorded while still in the grunge band Heatmiser (who I know precious little about other than Sam Coomes of Quasi was also in it), this short 30-minute album was recorded in Elliott Smith’s bedroom on a four-track machine and consists of spare folk songs that bring to mind Pink Moon era Nick Drake. Although his melodies are at times samey sounding and/or nondescript (though never unpleasant), his lyrical imagery (“I’m a roman candle, my head is full of flames”) and universal everyman storytelling (on “Drive All Over Town” he’s looking all over for his wayward woman, for example) are always worth a second look, and his hushed, plaintive, whispery vocals are an added enticement. Oddly enough, the album’s best guitar melodies appear on “No Name #1” and “No Name #2,” the latter adding some harmonica to flesh out his sound. Elsewhere, Smith doubles up his voice or his guitar parts (I’m pretty sure he’s the only one who plays on the album), and even occasionally adds percussion (mixed back though it is) or electric guitar, though the intense “Last Call” is the only song here that could possibly be called rocking. “Kiwi Maddog 20/20,” a surf instrumental that closes things out, is a pretty, pleasant oddity, but by and large these consistently well crafted if unexciting acoustic-based songs share (too) similar qualities. Fortunately, Smith is a gifted singer-songwriter and guitarist whose melodies are often more intricate than they first appear, and this was an impressively sparse first entry from a man whose work would become more ambitious and whose sound would subsequently expand as a result, much to the chagrin of some of his early fans - many also insecure loner types - who embraced the gentle intimacy of this demo-like recording.

Elliott Smith (Kill Rock Stars '95) Rating: B+
More of the same, only with more songs (12 this time) and a darker vision lyrically. Again, most of these songs sound rather plain and samey sounding at first, but repeat listens bear out distinct differences between the consistently engaging tracks. As with most of the songs here, "Needle In The Hay" is just a guy and his guitar, but the whispered chorus sticks (simple though it is), while "Christian Brothers" has a more lushly layered, fleshed out sound along with some truly pissed off lyrics. "Southern Belle" gets really dark ("killing a southern belle"), and Smith's vigorous acoustic strumming is especially intense towards the end, while the pretty "Coming Up Roses" features more forceful vocals than Smith's usual plaintive style, while some accordion (I think) and even an electric guitar add slightly more diverse instrumentation than what was featured on Roman Candle. Elsewhere, "Satellite" is lullaby-like, "Alphabet Town" is notable for its lonesome harmonica, "Good To Go" perfectly sums up Smith's down-and-out appeal to the slacker indie crowd ("I wouldn't be a hero if I wasn't such a zero"), the pretty "The Biggest Lie" provides an early, eerie foreshadowing ("oh we're so very precious you and I, and every thing you do makes me want to die"), and "The White Lady Loves You More" is an evocative album ender. Again, some of these songs and others not mentioned seem rather nondescript at first, and a couple never really register, but Smith's subtle attention to detail, both lyrically and musically, makes him stand out from the crowd, even if his early suicide death has made him slightly overrated in retrospect.

Either/Or (Kill Rock Stars '97) Rating: A-
More of the same, but better. Elliott Smith isn’t an artist you “get” the first time around. Give him a few more listens, however, and chances are good that you’ll eventually find his melancholic, low-key mood music pretty addictive. As with his previous two albums, Roman Candle and Elliott Smith, what one immediately notices on Either/Or is his hushed, intimate vocals and sparse (primarily) acoustic melodies, though this time he's more likely to flesh out his sound with layered guitars/vocals, drums, or even keyboards. Mingle The Beatles with Nick Drake and add a dash of lo-fi production courtesy of grunge ties (though the rocking “Cupid’s Trick” is the only remotely grungy track on the album) and you’ll get a good idea of what this guy sounds like. It’s an impressive package but in a very subtle way, and though like its predecessors this album is sometimes too hushed and dreary for its own good, Smith’s way with words and some deceptively catchy, more easily graspable melodies (“Speed Trials,” “Alameda,” “Ballad Of Big Nothing,” “Pictures Of Me,” and "Rose Parade") makes up for the more lackluster moments. These occur when this one-dimensional album relies too heavily on lyrics at the expense of compelling music (the words “boring” or “plain” come to mind), but most of the time Smith handles both sides of the equation gracefully. Smith’s music fits most circumstances but is best for cozying up to during lonely times, ‘cause no matter how stuck in a rut you are this guy’s got it worse (“I hope you’re not waiting around for me, ‘cause I’m not going anywhere, obviously”).

XO (Dreamworks '98) Rating: A-
After receiving a Grammy nomination for “Miss Misery,” one of several high profile contributions to the Good Will Hunting soundtrack (who among us who saw it can forget his surreal appearance at the Oscars performing between Celine Dion and Trisha Yearwood?), Elliott Smith’s major label debut was highly anticipated. Fortunately, Smith largely lives up to the hype, and XO subsequently appeared on almost every significant year-end critics list (though1998 was one of the dreariest years in recent memory). Like his previous albums, XO is built around intimate melodies, Smith’s often-whispered vocals, and lonely lyrics like “I’m never gonna know you now, but I’m gonna love you anyhow.” However, the melodic element increases each time out, and the major label budget has increased the amount of sounds at Smith’s disposal (much to the dismay of some old fans who preferred the raw intimacy of his early albums), with alternately playful or pretty piano and lush strings nicely layered atop his fragile acoustic guitar and often multi-tracked vocals. This is a welcome expansion of what can still be a one-dimensional sound, and XO is another album that grows on you over time (all of his albums require a little patience), though some songs suffer somewhat from a samey blandness. Then again, Beatlesque songs such as the catchy “Baby Britain” and “Bled White” are actually musically upbeat, and Smith’s soothing “oohs” and “aahs” are strangely comforting despite the scathing self-observations (“I’m not half what I wish I was”) and regret-filled relationships that populate his songs. “Waltz #2 (XO)” and “Independence Day” are other instantly identifiable standouts, while the baroque buildup of “Everybody Cares, Everybody Understands” is a personal favorite, and “Amity” is this album’s out-of-place sounding loud song. However, to name individual songs is really to miss the point, as this is an album that should be listened to in its entirety. Filled with both sadness and beauty, XO is a musically and emotionally rich affair that unflinchingly details real adult emotions time after time.

Figure 8 (Dreamworks '00) Rating: B+
This album continues along the path of XO by again taking advantage of major label bucks, thus allowing Smith to paint a far broader musical canvas (unsurprisingly, as someone who prefers Bryter Layter to Pink Moon I approve of his search for a fuller sound). In addition to his sparkling piano and chiming (or acoustic) guitar work comes multi-tracked harmonies and well placed strings that can occasionally swell on some symphonic song endings (“Everything Means Nothing To Me,” Stupidity Tries,” “Can’t Make A Sound”). Once again Smith’s songs are populated by perpetual losers at love, and he’s alternately accusatory (“I had tender feelings that you made hard”), accepting (“all I want now is happiness for you and me”), and self-pitying (“I couldn’t think of a thing that I hope tomorrow brings”). But he’s not always so depressing or self-involved, finding time to write a song about his adopted hometown of “LA” and adding his two cents to recent junk culture topics (“Son Of Sam,” “Junk Bond Trader”). A harder rocking Nick Drake and The Beatles are again reference points musically, and though perhaps few of these songs stand out at first and in truth can on occasion seem bland or insignificant, like all of Smith’s albums Figure 8 rewards repeat plays and needs to be taken as a whole for a full appreciation. Actually, simple but effective songs such as “Somebody That I Used To Know,” “Everything Reminds Me Of Her,” and “Easy Way Out” do stand out, as do most of the aforementioned songs, but with 16 often-homogenous sounding songs (a consistent Smith weakness) spanning over 52 minutes there are simply too many of them, and Smith is more impressive in his mellower style than when he rocks out, which he does more often here than on previous albums. Still, by and large Smith has again emerged with a winner, making the album that he felt comfortable making without any obvious commercial concessions; the increasingly rich production is but a logical progression, and that Smith so freely plays around with various newfound sounds attests to his ever-increasing confidence, as does a more direct lyrical focus. Alas, Smith will not get to further build upon this album's strengths. Having spent years struggling with drugs and depression, Smith committed suicide on October 21, 2003. I tried to write these reviews without the benefit of hindsight, but as is often the case with these things (think Nirvana's In Utero) I suppose that the signs pointing towards his sad end were there. Turns out Elliott really meant it when he sang of how “Everything Means Nothing To Me,” and fittingly enough the album ends with an icy ambient instrumental titled simply “Bye.” Bye, Elliott, and rest in peace; you'll be missed.

From A Basement On The Hill (Dreamworks '04) Rating: B+
Pieced together by long time producer Rob Schnapf and former girlfriend and current Jick Joanna Bolme and released two years after his gruesome suicide death (Smith stabbed himself twice in the heart), From A Basement On The Hill is an elegant final (we hope) farewell from a talented but troubled songsmith. As with most such posthumous releases, there are some jarringly inappropriate touch ups (though most of these tracks were allegedly near completion at the time of his death) and the overall flow could be better, plus as with XO and Figure 8 the album is a little longer than it needs to be. Still, this is a very worthwhile release that’s worth poring over beyond searching for Elliott’s obvious cries for help, which are easily given away by lyrics like “I’m through trying now, it’s a big relief” and “I know my place, hate my face, I know how I began, and how I’ll end,” as well as song titles such as “Let’s Get Lost,” “Strung Out Again,” “A Fond Farewell,” and “Last Hour.” Fortunately, the music, which is more diverse and rocking (and Beatlesque) than any previous Elliott Smith album, makes this more than merely a pity party for you lonesome indie types. Indeed, From A Basement On The Hill encompasses the charmingly pretty and poignant acoustic ditties that characterized his early work (“Let’s Get Lost,” “Fond Farewell,” “A Passing Feeling,” “Memory Lane”), the lush neo-psychedelic pop that he came to favor later on (“Pretty (Ugly Before”, “King’s Crossing,” “Twilight”), and it even shows some new moves, such as the catchy, surprisingly rocking album opener “Coast To Coast” and “Shooting Star,” which has a deliberately sloppy fadeout as Elliott attempts epic scale rock ‘n’ roll. Not every thing here works, and the album offers consistent quality above a steady stream of obvious classics (Either/Or and XO remain Smith’s benchmark releases in that regard), but this was a highly worthwhile endeavor that if anything enhanced Smith’s still growing status. It’s a pity that drug addiction, depression, and various relationship woes (all topics that have always dominated his songs) became too much for Smith to bear, and that he didn’t get to finish the album himself (perhaps he would’ve better ironed out some of its more obvious flaws), but at least his music will live on, and From A Basement On The Hill provides fitting closure to an impressively consistent and at times terrific discography.

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