An Introduction To... - Elliott Smith

An Introduction To…

Elliott Smith
Kill Rock Stars Records.

SCQ Rating: 80%

In university, I dated someone who kept a picture of Elliott Smith in her wallet. Cut from a magazine sometime during her late-teen years, it pressed firmly between her bills and I.D. as if Elliott was enrolled at a faraway college and I was taking advantage of their long-distance situation. It would be months before that pocket-sized picture was replaced with one of yours truly, but I’m sure he just got shuffled deeper into the wallet’s folds. That’s what Elliott Smith means to so many people; his songs reached out to us as naked and honest confessions and his death immortalized our devotion, the only currency we could reciprocate with. So once the vault-doors have been closed and 2007’s New Moon appears to be the last representation the Smith estate looks willing to impart, we reevaluate the loss of Elliott Smith with the first (of many, I reckon) compilations: An Introduction To….

Cleverly avoiding the impossible task of selecting either a “Greatest Hits” package or “Best Of” controversy, Kill Rock Stars’ Introduction draws from Smith’s entire catalog but most liberally from Either/Or. Alongside fan-favourites ‘Between the Bars’ and ‘Angeles’ sit compulsory sleeper-hits ‘Needle In the Hay’ and ‘Waltz #2’ that fanned Smith’s less committed admirers, the combination forming a first-impression that’s laidback and sorrowful. Then some unexpected selections try to lift the mood, using the charms of ‘The Biggest Lie’ to alleviate some strain and the single edit of ‘Happiness’ as a closer. Of course it’s all for naught because An Introduction To…’s very existence supersedes any narrative melancholy, becoming that fatalistic last straw to remind us that Smith’s canon is recyclable but asphyxiated. The best Kill Rock Stars can do is offer a collection versatile enough to promote Elliott Smith as a timeless songwriter and they accomplish this easy task without dwelling on much of the material that foreshadowed his demise.

As with any compilation, introduction or not, there will be discourse about sequencing and omissions. The disc avoids the chronological route, thereby ruling out any uneven weighing between Smith’s move from lo-fi troubadour to major-label orchestrator. I’d have made some alternate choices, like ‘Roman Candle’ instead of ‘Last Call’ or ‘Alphabet Town’ over ‘Alameda’, but everyone will differ over the best fourteen puzzle-pieces to reassemble a complicated songwriter. Hell, I’m certain many people will balk at the allocation of ‘Twilight’ or ‘Angel In the Snow’ where ‘Christian Brothers’ might’ve stood, but I’m happy they’re included, and those differing opinions all vindicate An Introduction To…’s primary intention. Elliott Smith’s catalog remains too colorful and powerful to be distilled within an hour’s listen. When dealing with a fan-base that holds their songwriter's music tight to their chests and occasionally tucked within their wallets, An Introduction To…’s saving grace is that Kill Rock Stars never try to tie a bow on his saga.

From a Basement on a Hill - Elliott Smith

From a Basement on a Hill

Elliott Smith
Anti- Records.

SCQ Rating: 86%

Most posthumous releases are compiled and critiqued in lax fashion; the artist’s initial plan is lost amid a close-knit contingency crew who try to pay their colleague fair tribute while most constructive criticism of the resulting album is usually brushed over with praise for the artist’s legacy. Released almost an exact year after Elliott Smith’s tragic end, From a Basement on a Hill suffers little from either; Smith’s once-planned double album had long been reduced to this single disc, and many of these songs were all but finished before that fateful October day. Similarly, the album’s final compiling, in the hands of Rob Schnapf and girlfriend Joanna Bolme, sounds like a fully realized record; its few flaws in the material, not its handling.

Although I was a casual fan of several Smith originals, mostly ‘Needle in the Hay’, I wasn’t introduced to the full scope of Elliott’s talent until this record. It quickly became one of my years-best, a record so claustrophobic in its helplessness that I often felt unworthy to love it, yet years later, as I own much of his catalogue, I understand better how this final record fits into his recorded history.

Because I’ve invested myself in a life’s work as deeply personal as Smith’s is, it’s difficult to disassociate this last album from the circumstances of his final days. The increased paranoia and drug use cast Smith against his label (Smith insisted that Dreamworks had hired investigators to stalk him) and his friends (producer Jon Brion was fired after confronting Smith about his addiction); his fragile emotions concerning the pain of both personal and professional pressures are heavily documented in the material here. “I can’t prepare for death anymore than I already have,” he sings on ‘King’s Crossing’, and between the family shame ‘A Distorted Reality…’ and the easy eulogy of ‘Fond Farewell of a Friend’, ignoring Smith’s death is impossible given the warnings present in From a Basement….

Beyond lyrical content, these songs are tied by a familiar production, as extravagant as Figure 8’s but denser in mood and psychedelia (than the previous album’s playfulness with pop). ‘Coast to Coast’, which opens the disc with shambling electric guitars, is a psychologically battered pop song, far gone compared to the ‘Son of Sam’ sunshine melodies only three years earlier. The tossed-on layers of 60s-inspired guitar account for half of From a Basement…, while several other songs remain largely acoustic. ‘Twilight’ is beautifully straightforward, soundtracked by a repeating synth-line and a field of crickets, while ‘Last Hour’ is barren like his lo-fi roots but in the most prophetic of ways, as Smith sings “I’m through trying now, it’s a big relief/ I’ll be staying down where no one else gonna give me grief/ Mess me around, just make it over.”

Although this final offering will stand proudly alongside Smith’s recorded work, From a Basement…’s defeated and bitter character makes it unsurprisingly the emotionally bleakest. Since Smith’s growing malaise led to infrequent recording and some less than brilliant songs, it’s relieving to see how assured this song-cycle is executed. Despite its occasional excess (Schnapf and Bolme could’ve cut a few of the weaker tracks from the album’s tail-end), this finale fits well with Smith’s Dreamworks material which was not without its superfluous moments. A suiting epitaph for an unforgettable songwriter, From a Basement on a Hill is an exceptional album.