A posthumous Elliott Smith album is something to treasure, but Jim Carroll hopes that too much musical tat doesn't sully Smith's legacy
It may be billed as his final album, but From a Basement on the Hill is probably not the last we'll hear from the late Elliott Smith. There are undoubtedly more songs in the can or tunes never intended to see the light of day which will be shoehorned into a future release. Rest assured that there is no such thing as just one album of unreleased tracks from an artist of Smith's calibre.
From a Basement on the Hill makes you realise how much Smith will be missed. Released on the first anniversary of his grim death and featuring some 15 songs written or recorded since 2000's Figure 8, it's an album where Smith again tackles his many demons head-on.
No matter how emotional and troubled the man, Smith's musical gumption was always exceptional, coating everything from low-key acoustic tracks (Twiligh, Little One) to riffed epics (Coast to Coast, A Passing Feeling) with drama and verve. Even without the events shadowing its release, this would be viewed as a huge leap forward for Smith.
However, it won't be the music that draws in the gawkers, but rather lines like "I can't prepare for death any more than I already have" from King's Crossing. The grim circumstances of Smith's death mean many will be excavating these lyrics for hidden meanings.
It's not as if Smith hadn't already provided plenty of material for conspiracy theorists and freaks to read into on previous albums. It may have been Elton John who said that sad songs say so much, but it was Smith who sang them. Introspective, downbeat, sparse and confessional, Smith's songs seemed to match his public persona, sad note for sad note.
Yet having interviewed and met him on a number of occasions, Smith came across in person as shy and likeable rather than diffident or miserable, a person who was happiest when the spotlight was turned off. Having actively shunned the limelight, Smith must have been incredibly uncomfortable when nominated for an Oscar in 1998 for Miss Misery from the Good Will Hunting soundtrack - and especially when he performed at the awards ceremony, sandwiched between Celine Dion and Michael Bolton.
The appearance and publicity may have done wonders for his sales (his 1998 album X/O subsequently sold 400,000 copies) but Smith grew heartily sick of having to answer questions about it. "It was cool that Gus Van Sant wanted my song in his movie," he said in an April 2000 interview. "But then I had to talk about it and that white suit I wore for the next two years."
He didn't seem too nonplussed about being tagged by some as Mr Misery, seeing it as part of the strange package that went with writing, recording and releasing songs. "If you have some songs that are dark, then you immediately get packaged as the unhappy one", he said. "I'm never unhappy, I'm just as happy as the other people I know."
What Smith could not accept, however, was the intrusion which came with success. "The more popular you get, the more people want to know about aspects of your life that aren't necessarily related to the music," he said around the time of the Oscar nomination. "Some interviews become very uncomfortable because of that. There's a whole cult of personality thing that the music press seems to operate on, but I don't want to sell anyone my story."
Unfortunately, his death has spawned just the kind of gruesome spectacle Smith sought to avoid. Having begun to overcome his alcohol and drug problems (thanks to a controversial amino acid-based rehab programme), Smith's focus was firmly on the next record. Live shows may have been shambolic but, as he told California magazine Under the Radar in what was to be his last interview in January 2003, he had a feeling the record he was working on would be good.
Smith didn't live to see the release. On October 21 last year, he stabbed himself in the heart following a row with his girlfriend. He was rushed to hospital but was pronounced dead shortly after arrival. There has been much conjecture about the exact cause of his death - the coroner's report stated that "several aspects of the circumstances (of his death) are atypical of suicide and raise the possibility of homicide" - and the police investigation into the case is still ongoing.
It's left to the music, then, to do the talking. Lets hope that those charged with looking after Smith's back-catalogue and unreleased material do not take lessons from those who administer Jeff Buckley or Eva Cassidy's music. In those two cases, you can actually hear the scraping of the bottom of the barrel, as every possible piece of music or previously unreleased demo is hawked to a fanbase. There have been countless reissues of Buckley's sterling Grace début, for example, while his Live at Sin-É EP is now a bloated double-album complete with DVD.
Buckley and Cassidy's posthumous releases have become shoddy, undignified industries, as even music which may never have been intended for public consumption forms the basis for another "new" album.
As much as you may want the buck to stop with From a Basement on the Hill, many will be unable to resist the huge temptation to release whatever Smith music can be found and rake in the cash. The only hope is that those releases will be as good as this one, but somewhere down the line, quality control will inevitably slip.
At least, there's an unblemished back-catalogue to enjoy and point newcomers towards. Regardless of what's to come, either in new music or further revelations about his death, Elliott Smith certainly left enough behind to ensure his legacy.
From a Basement on the Hill is released on Domino on October 22nd
