Fragile, vulnerable, dogged by depression and drug problems. Ultimately the victim of a single stab wound through the heart, widely believed to be suicide....
If we're to believe the headlines alone, it's no great surprise that the late, lamented ELLIOTT SMITH is being viewed as a tragic, Nick Drake-style character four years after his shockingly premature death. But, of course, such lines of thinking are often way too simplistic.
This writer never had the pleasure of meeting Elliott himself, but the warmth with which virtually all who knew him speak of him suggests that he was a deeply compassionate character who (like all of us) had his demons and (like many of us) struggled to overcome them. He was human, basically, though with the significant gift of being able to articulate the madness inside into something truly haunting and beautiful. Anyone who owns the five albums he made during his lifetime and the equally excellent posthumous 'sixth' album 'From A Basement On The Hill' knows this already and if you don't have them...well, you need to rectify that state of affairs rapidly. And I emphasise the word 'NEED'.
Thankfully, Smith's musical estate is in the hands of tasteful folk such as Larry Crane and Domino Records, so - while we still try to come to terms with what REALLY happened to this most troubled of special souls - we can rest easy in the knowledge that what is being released posthumously is of a quality befitting its' author. 'From A Basement...' was a fine record, and while the lovingly-packaged and extensively annotated new double CD 'New Moon' is a trawl of sorts through the Smith archives, precious few of its' generous 24 tracks have ever been 'officially' released before.
Basically, 'New Moon's contents date from Smith's prolific 1995-97 period. Recorded primarily on 8-track machines in friends' houses (and at his earlier band Heatmiser's place), these tunes were committed to tape mostly at or around the same time Smith's second, eponymously-titled LP or its' much-vaunted follow-up 'Either Or' were being laid down. With a few exceptions, they comprise mostly guitar and Smith's beautifully double-tracked vocals, but are very much completed tracks in their own right and - rather than being viewed as rejects - many of them would have further strengthened these already fabulous records.
From what I can gather, the earliest song here is the lovely 'Whatever (Folk Song In C)' from '94. Harbouring a gentle sense of wonder and fluid picking more akin to James Yorkston, It's significantly different from much of what surrounds it, though the tremblingly beautiful opening 'Angel In The Snow' is wintry and gorgeous in its' fragility, as is the intimate 'Talking To Mary'.
The other tunes here dating from sessions just before the release of 'Elliott Smith' are darker and more impenetrable lyrically, but no less fascinating. Originally titled 'Coma Kid', 'High Times' (track 3 on CD 1) is the first track to feature any overdubs (a reverb-y second guitar and hissing cymbals) and rises to a climax with Spaghetti Western-style overtones you don't see/hear coming until late, while 'Riot Coming' also has strategic second guitar and potently violent lyrics ("a punch in the stomach makes sons into daughters") which pull you up short.
These are all pretty impressive, but it's the songs recorded around the time of 'Either/ Or' that are especially revelatory. Of immediate interest is an early and already presence-heavy version of 'Miss Misery' (the one that would mutate into the 'Good Will Hunting' favourite and catapult Elliott into the dark waters of mainstream acceptance of sorts), but the slew of tracks recorded for possible album inclusion suggest the already towering 'Either/ Or' could easily have been a killer double LP.
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To this end, make straight for tracks like 'Go By' and 'Going Nowhere'. Both are quintessential Smith: eerie, descriptive and wonderful all at once. Then there are the 'where did THAT come from?' moments like 'Almost Over' and 'Big Decision' which showcase the remarkable dexterity of Smith's guitar picking. His rippling playing was always attractive, but here he sounds like an amalgam of a flamenco player and Ed Hamell's acoustic hardcore stance and it creates something truly gripping in the process. The latter concludes with a candid Smith admitting "what you want I cannot be/ you know I can't stay sober" which, bearing everything in mind, is difficult to ignore.
Arguably even better are the clutch of tracks featuring a fuller band sound such as 'New Monkey' and 'Fear City.' The first again revels in potentially ambiguous lyrics ("I look up and smile, a picture of dissatisfaction that he can only see as a junkie"), unerringly brilliant melodic content and absolute honey of a middle section, while 'Fear City' showcases dinky organ and Smith's impressive, grooving drum prowess. Both are typically sweet AND edgy and serve as fine signposts to where Smith would be heading when allowed to open up to a bigger budget on the still-superb 'XO' album in 1999.
Fittingly, both CDS close with tracks taken from radio sessions Smith did for local, Oregon-based radio stations circa 1996. The two Heatmiser songs he re-invents in his own solo image ('Half Right' and 'See You Later') are pretty cool, but it's his version of Big Star's already unassailable 'Thirteen' that really shines in its' unadorned simplicity. As dedicated Smith watchers know, it was a frequent staple of his live set and its' great to have it released in an 'official' form at long last.
'New Moon', then, is a bit special. Yes, this reviewer was vaguely aware that there were still some hidden gems remaining in the Elliott Smith vault, but he's astonished to discover what a vast treasure trove there actually is. Of course, it's terminally tragic to have to accept that these are posthumously-released jewels, but they have the haunting hallmark of quality that runs through virtually all Elliott Smith's work and have a mysterious lustre that will ensure they will be coveted in discerning collections worldwide.
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