Elliott Smith's compelling last album offers tribute to the artist

When the music world received news of the tragic passing of Jeff Buckley on June 4, 1997, we were reminded in a far too candid fashion that life, like talent, is a fragile gift. He left an unfinished album as a constant reminder of that fact.

In October 2003, another young talent met his end at the tender age of 34, and the world felt similar shock. Elliott Smith, whose album "From a Basement on the Hill" graces the shelves almost a year to the day after his death, joins the long list of musical geniuses taken all too soon. Largely unfinished, the 15-track recording features a small selection of what Smith left behind, pieced together by his family and friends according to their best estimates of what the artist himself would have envisioned in a studio release. Thematically, "From a Basement on the Hill" captures the sadness of its creator and offers a glimpse into the soul of the tortured genius. It is also a compelling tribute from the people who knew the artist most intimately.

Generally, in listening to the voice of Smith, one can't help but notice that he sings with a delicate poignancy resembling the softer side of John Lennon. But the Beatles' influence, at least in the vocals, doesn't stop there, as Elliott Smith's two-, sometimes three-track harmonies derive neatly from the Harrison school of beauty, subtlety and mellow unpredictability.

Any negative criticism that we can fling at the album is mere reflection of Smith's untimely death and the unfinished nature of the album. But listeners must appreciate it for what it is and what the artist left behind. As cases in point, "Strung Out Again" and "Shooting Star" lack a certain cohesion that would signify finished works. Often confused by discordant guitars or obtrusive percussion tracks, these are not among Smith's best work.

Nevertheless, among the songs that are finished and polished, there exists some remarkable, single-worthy material that takes us back to the Smith of the mid to late 90s. The acclaimed "Twilight" features one guitar track underlain with a faint ambient nature recording. Low-end harmonies abound throughout, most effectively in the simple refrain, "I'm already somebody's baby." A lovely string arrangement loops mid-track and ties the whole song together. "Fond Farewell" seems to solemnly foretell Smith's own death, a questionable suicide, as it describes a life lived out as one extended goodbye. "Last Hour" is a pleasant surprise that captures much of the vocal uniqueness of Smith. His tonal variations and inflections are largely unpatterned, and in avoiding radio-friendly sing-alongs, they do reveal a true compositional prowess with subsequent listenings. An acoustic guitar solo highlights a skill of Smith's that is perhaps underrepresented on this album.

At the risk of insulting a fallen genius, we are best to not slam the album's shortcomings, but to assume the product to be truly unfinished. We can praise his production crew for their attempt, but with the knowledge of his extraordinary talent sitting heavy in our memories, we must believe that Smith himself would have signed off on something different, if not manifestly better, than certainly more complete. At any rate, "From a Basement on the Hill" is a noble production successfully entrenching in our hearts the legacy of Elliott Smith.

Thanks to Good Brother Milo for his valuable commentary and contribution.

Also from Elliott Smith: Either/Or (1997); XO (1998); Figure 8 (2000).