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Elliott
Smith: From a Basement on the Hill
Anti-, 2004
Rating: 3.9
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Posted: October 20,
2004
By
Laurence Station
Warren Zevon got the last word; Elliott Smith did not. Zevon knew he was
dying, and made sure his final album,
The Wind, served as a proper send-off. Such tidy closure is rarely
afforded to the lot of us -- musician or not. Elliott Smith, a presumed
suicide, had an argument with his girlfriend and, in a fatal lapse of
reason, stabbed himself in the chest. Nearly a year to the day later, the
album Smith was working on at the time, From a Basement on the Hill,
arrives. And it enjoys anything but the "Keep Me in Your Heart" summation
Zevon so eloquently contrived. The choice of track sequence and final mix
was left to others -- hardly a definitive capper on Smith's impressive
catalog. From a Basement on the Hill is a posthumous collaboration
between the deceased and those who loved and worked with him; it can't help
but impart resonance beyond the original intent. The larger issue is whether
Hill is a progression of Smith's work, or a carefully constructed
tribute to the man and his music.
Unsurprisingly, Hill feels more like a retrospective than a steady
gallop toward the next stage in Smith's artistic advancement. Big orchestral
sweeps, more intricate arrangements and diverse instrumentation all point to
the direction Smith was heading. Perhaps, as David McConnell (who worked
with Smith during the recording process) claimed, Smith wanted to return to
the stripped-down, raw (by necessity, mind you) sound of his early solo
period. But his documented body of work doesn't support such a retreat. As
Smith enjoyed larger advances, he took advantage of superior equipment and
studios, consistently expanding on his painfully introspective, '60s
pop-inflected songcraft. Listening to his debut, Roman Candle, and
2000's Figure 8 reveals just how ambitious Smith had become in terms
of what he wanted his music to sound like; he was striving for nothing less
than becoming a one-man Beatles. (McConnell has been quoted as saying that
Smith intended Hill to be a double album, in the sprawling,
helter-skelter vein of the White Album.) Sadly, we'll never enjoy the
indulgence of such a creation.
Hill's final buff job was left to Smith's longtime producer, Rob
Schnapf, and Smith's former girlfriend (and current Jick -- as in Stephen
Malkmus and the) Joanna Bolme. The end result is a collection of songs that
gesture to Smith's lo-fi, acoustic early years (the elementary elegance of
"Let's Get Lost"), the maturation and sturdier production values of the
XO period ("Pretty (Ugly Before)"), and, most intriguingly, parts
unknown, from the distortion-heavy, wildly fuzzed out "Coast To Coast" to
the crushing bombast and deliriously messy fadeout of "Shooting Star," an
unapologetically nasty assault on a "use 'em and lose 'em" ex-lover.
The fiery, emboldened "King's Crossing" is the best track of the bunch;
utilizing stabbing chord changes and subtle piano parts, Smith feeds lines
just begging for postmortem interpretation ("I can't prepare for death any
more than I already have") and unavoidably ironic insights ("The judge is on
vinyl / Decisions are final / And nobody gets a reprieve"). Multilayered,
complex but not overstated, this is the sound of an artist in total command
of his craft.
Other highlights include the rumbling "Don't Go Down," which trades on a
hard-rock blueprint and smartly exhibits Smith's skill at economically
sketching a striking moment in time: "She had a dream / Woke up in shock /
She had seen / Her own body outlined in chalk." "Memory Lane" is
quintessential Smith, a chipper ditty featuring rhyming couplets utterly
incongruous with the peppy beat supporting them: "Isolation pushes past
self-hatred, guilt and shame / To a place where suffering is just a game."
On the downside, there are instances where a little editing would have gone a
long way toward improving things. Case in point: the warm, finger-picked "A
Fond Farewell," in which Smith adds an unbalanced third line that dilutes
the effectiveness of the verse: "Veins full of disappearing ink / Vomiting
in the kitchen sink / Disconnecting from the missing link."
The sum effect of Hill is patchwork. But honestly, who can say what,
if anything, would have sounded definitive? In the end, Hill is what
it is and, for better or worse, it's Smith's final release (until the
remaining tracks from these sessions turn up, that is). And what might Smith
have made of all the fuss regarding what will most likely turn out to be his
most commercially successful release? Perhaps a line from "Rose Parade," a
track on his best album, Either/Or, provides a clue: "I'd say it's a
sight that's quite worth seeing / It's just that everyone's interest is
stronger than mine."
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