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A beautiful place to get lost.
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A beautiful place to get lost.
Many Elliott Smith devotees may have eagerly awaited the release of ‘From a Basement on the Hill’ hoping to somehow explain the mysterious death of this acclaimed American indie folk/punk hero thirteen months ago. As is tradition in rock ‘n’ roll folklore, he will remain eternally young, a free spirit. His record company and his estate will no doubt benefit from future sales of the unreleased material and the renewed interest in the back catalogue but after giving this a listen, those Smithy diehard’s searching endeavours may ultimately be in vain and this album could even add to the enigma.
With hindsight and considering he died from TWO knife wounds to the chest it is extraordinary that friends and fans alike were initially content to assume he committed suicide. The coroner found no illegal narcotic in his system and the circumstances of his death are as yet officially unresolved.
If nothing else, this certainly does say something about the man and his musical persona. The period after his highly successful work on big Hollywood movie soundtracks in the late 1990’s, and the further success of 2000’s ‘Figure 8’ album, had undoubtedly seen Smith’s darkest days; his heroin and crack fuelled life plagued with chronic periods of depression. However, his well documented stay in rehab in late 2002 and his subsequent drug free, diligent work throughout 2003, (when he recorded some 34 songs, 15 of which appear here) are at odds with ‘the tortured, hopeless, sensitive artist, angst ridden and drug riddled, who ends it all in an LA apartment’ scenario.
‘From a Basement on the Hill’ has all the Elliott Smith seriousness, mastery of harmony, rhyme and melody as well as his trademark prevailing, haunting, melancholic undertone. Gloomy titles include ‘A Fond Farewell’, ‘Twilight’, and ‘The Last Hour’. Lyrically he is largely self confessional, bluntly confrontational and morose on occasion. There are references a plenty to ‘bridges burning’, ‘isolation’, ‘the day dying’ and suchlike. Yet conversely every track on this album is performed with such an abundance of passion, vigour and thought it displays none of the world weariness you would expect from a man who wanted to die.
He could never have been accused of being overly chirpy on previous outings yet here we have songs (supposedly written at his lowest ebb) that are gluttonously loaded with exuberant, provocative, even (dare I say it) joyous melodies. On occasion, Smith’s use of sound effect is downright mischievous. ‘Ostriches and Chirping’ is basically 34 seconds of bird noises! The fade in and outs on ‘Coast to Coast’ and the ghostly mutterings on ‘King’s Crossing’ are attention seeking and gleeful. Even the most acoustic, ‘stripped bare’ numbers (‘Twilight’, a beautiful ode to unrequited love) are so richly textured with his wonderfully compelling vocals that they have an ethereal uplifting effect. His most oblique political commentary on the last track ‘A Distorted Reality is Now a Necessity to be Free’ is more a realisation of the sad facts, an awakening, rather than a depressing, impending Armageddon vibe. It cannot be surprising, considering these songs were written between 2000 and 2002, that the well worn subject of drug abuse should take prominence in the subject matter. ‘Shooting Star’, ‘A Fond Farewell’ and in particular ‘Strung Out Again’ give us an insight into were Smith had been and were he found himself in his relationship with drugs, prescribed and otherwise.
The album was assembled by producer Rob Schnaff, aided by bass playing ex-girlfriend Joanna Bolme. They used demo’s and Smith’s scribbled notes, but no matter how close they were to Smith in life, no matter how sure they were of Smith’s intentions, posthumously ‘From a Basement on the Hill’ could never be as it’s creator would have intended. The track listing has an odd incoherence. Quirky some may say but as a group of songs it sounds more like someone’s Elliott Smith compilation CD for the car rather than a piece of his music composition. Perversely, this largely insignificant gripe has little meaning as the pure integrity of the music means that no matter what the mood; these songs have an unnerving bewitching vibrancy.
Ultimately ‘From a Basement on the Hill’ gracefully succeeds in displaying the considerable range of his talent and the pedigree of his startling musical diversity. Moreover it is clear that Elliott Smith, in what was to become his final months on this mortal coil, was playing and recording with great gusto and confidence. Throughout, this record is exquisitely rough around the edges. The more sparsely recorded minimalist tracks are distractingly atmospheric, bristling with energy whilst the expansive, more symphonic tracks burst at the seams with a strangely controlled psychedelic chaos. Comparisons to the work of Brian Wilson, Nick Drake, Badly Drawn Boy and inevitably John Lennon and The Beatles have never been more valid. These new songs see Elliott again tip his cap toward more of his influences and contemporaries alike. Some of the guitar playing on the few ‘amplified rock’ tracks come straight out of ‘The Neil Young School of Guitar De-tuning, Feedback and Fuzzbox abuse!’ The guitar intro’ piece to ‘Shooting Star’ could almost be Neil and Crazy Horse in their pomp! Smith’s bass and Steven Drozd’s (Flaming Lips) cacophonic drumming on ‘Coast to Coast’ approaches a delicious ‘Who-like’ tantrum pitch. The 2003 single release ‘Pretty (Ugly Before)’ has a modern grandiose nature —it could slot into any Radiohead set, the piano chords alone could grace any huge stadium stage. ‘Let’s Get Lost’ has a wonderful retro’ harmonic Simon & Garfunkel folky feel. Once Smith stops twiddling with knobs, ‘King’s Crossing’ eventually kicks into life and we taste the glam rock seventies, recalling those heady days when Bolan and Bowie ruled. ‘Don’t Go Down’ is delightfully grungy, crescendos of guitars exploding over the hauntingly plaintive vocals and whilst ‘A Passing Feeling’ has, in some respects, a similar brazen attitude the over all effect is more atmospheric, the singing slightly more airy and the guitars a little less brash and booming. ‘Memory Lane’ is almost an angry old fashioned hippie protest song and it is not a running order coincidence that penultimately the lullaby ‘Little One’ follows, as these could be construed as Smith not only at his most lyrically contrite and macabre, but they also have a desperate edge, their author seeming vulnerable and alone.
Elliott Smith was 34. When listening to ‘From a Basement on the Hill’ it is difficult not to consider the tragedies involved in his death. Aspects of this album are heartbreakingly emotive, Smith had undoubtedly been at the brink during his short life but at no point here do you sense the fire in his belly had gone out, that his artistic drive had been dismantled. Maybe the other 19 tracks from this period will have a different message? Here though, there is no element of closure. It is difficult to accept this memorable album, filled with highlights, as the final work of a man preparing to violently end his existence.
Words : Bill McMullan