by Heather Huff
Elliott Smith is often compared to the Beatles, as if he were another artist who'd managed to find success by recycling, quite competently, the music of a pioneer (see, e.g., Oasis). But if Smith's music is
derivative, it is only in the hardest way: he quietly restored a substance and musicianship to popular music rarely seen since the Beatles.

His arrangements and melodies remind us that popular music can be intelligent, multi-layered and full-bodied, or it can be stripped and simply beautiful, or it can be all of these at once. His command of words, word structure, and the kind of emotion it takes to make lyrics poetic was equally accomplished. His ethereal voice speaks directly to you, capturing moments of melancholy in a way that is at once detached yet full of emotion, human yet not of this world. His voice and music are beautiful and delicate, but they deliver dark, brittle stories which give us a glimpse of the demons that haunted him – child abuse, heroin addiction, unrequited love, depression, attempted suicide, and institutionalization.

Elliott’s posthumously released From a Basement on the Hill, was anticipated to be his White Album. Because of his tragic death, one year ago yesterday -- an apparent suicide believed by some to be a murder -- it may become a Pink Moon or In Utero. Most of the reviews of this album focus on the prescient nature of his lyrics and dissect them for clues to his state of mind or even to feed conspiracy theories. As with others before him, they sensationalize the circumstances of his death to craft the story of a tragic, unlikely hero. All of this clouds the reality that this the greatest album of the year. While it is impossible to listen to this album absent the context of his life and death, it should be recognized as more than a sad farewell from a troubled musician.

Elliott wrote most of the songs on From a Basement on the Hill two or three years before his death at a time when most of his friends said he was most at peace. He ambitiously forged a new path with this album and created a unique sound that was not resigned or sad, but raw and gritty. He once said that he was perplexed to find that people find his music sad because making it makes him so happy. Once you get past the eerie lyrics and the feeling that he’s talking to you from the grave, you realize that he must have had a lot of fun making this album.

Smith worked on this album for almost four years. Unfortunately, it was not entirely completed at his death. Final production touches and mastering were done by his former producer Rob Schnapf and ex-girlfriend Joanna Bolme, currently the bassist for Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks. Both had an intimate knowledge of Elliott’s musicianship and completed the album the way they believed he would have wanted. Predictably, there is already controversy over whether they added or changed too much. It’s clear though that this work is essentially Elliott Smith.

From a Basement on the Hill is every bit as orchestrated and full as XO and Figure 8, but with an undercurrent of deliberate chaos. Guitars are bigger, sometimes untuned, sometimes competing with the melody. Pianos are less vaudevillian and more mysterious. Drums echo and pop in and out unexpectedly. There is so much going on that you could listen a hundred times and hear something new each time. It all fits together to encase Smith's vulnerable and pure vocals.

The album opens with "Coast to Coast," which rises and falls back down again with a distorted bass line and ends with two spoken word performances played simultaneously. "A Fond Farewell," is what many reviewers tell us is a self-written eulogy, and the lyrics admittedly support that idea, but it could just as easily be his goodbye to heroin: "veins full of disappearing ink/vomiting in the kitchen sink/disconnecting from the missing link/this is not my life/it's just a fond farewell to a friend/it's not what I'm like." "Memory Lane," stands out with it’s delicate, sprite-like finger-picking. Each song could be a favorite and none will give you the urge to fast forward.

From a Basement on the Hill, could arguably be Elliott’s finest work. While maybe not as accessible, it is probably the most innovative and complex. Regardless, it is the final chapter of one of the greatest song-writers of our time. Rest in peace Elliott, we will miss you.