That\‘s not to say it isn\‘t still often breathtaking opener \“Son of Sam\” may be the perfect distillation of Smith\‘s strengths, \“Stupidity Tries\” could\‘ve easily been his biggest hit had DreamWorks ever known what the fuck to do with him, and \“Happiness\” reveals surprises on even the hundredth spin.Įven the record\‘s weakest moments can be satisfying. The last record actually completed by Smith, Figure 8 stands as a logical follow-up to XO it\‘s bigger but not better, louder but not prettier, and sometimes substitutes bluster for songcraft. Also, if \“Ballad of Big Nothing\” has never brought you to tears then you must have some disorder of the tear ducts, and I\‘m sorry about that, because you\‘d probably like to cry it out as that one reaches its satisfying crescendo but it just isn\‘t the same pouring artificial tears down your face and now I\‘ve made us both feel uncomfortable. It\‘s no accident that the record ends with its most hopeful moment \“Say Yes\” was a mixtape standby for thousands of lovestruck indie kids and still retains its emotional immediacy. Smith sounds confident and overwhelmed at the same time, and masters the neat trick of making rage sound pretty. It\‘s a beginning-to-end powerhouse, and it\‘s for good reason that several of its songs found their way, unadorned and unchanged, into the soundtrack for Gus Van Sant\‘s Good Will Hunting. It would be fair to say that Either/Or presents Smith\‘s strongest collection of songs, even if its decidedly lo-fi presentation lacks the punch of its successor. But it\‘s a \“beautiful confusion,\” and XO presents Smith necessarily growing past the limitations of the four-track to inhabit an impossible space between truth and beauty.Īs an aside, I\‘ve never seen anyone else discuss the VS, VSOP, XO double meaning of the record\‘s title. Perhaps it\‘s too difficult for some listeners to embrace the harshness of Smith\‘s words and sentiments set against the clarity of the sonic vision and the most arresting set of melodies he\‘d put together. Isn\‘t that the point, though? Thematically, Smith\‘s narrators (and, to be fair and clear, most of those narrators are speaking in the first person, which says a lot-probably everything) are fucked up, lost, and drunk (in the case of \“Baby Britain,\” all three at the same time). Bring it on.Ĭlearly enamored with having extra money and time in the studio, Smith runs wild, multi-tracking everything until songs like \“Tomorrow Tomorrow\” and \“Everybody Cares, Everybody Understands\” barely have room to breathe. It says a lot about the weight of Smith\‘s talents that picking this record as his best will probably get me assailed in the comments. It arrived October 22, 2003, the morning I’d learned of his death, the only day it could’ve empowered me. If I’d been luckier or more resourceful or on top of things, that single would’ve arrived far earlier. Elliott Smith’s voice filled my apartment, a new song, a beautiful, sad, hopeful song. I switched the turntable to 45 (this is an annoyance on that old stripped-down NAD of mine, as it involves lifting off the platter to manually move the belt). I opened the package and brought the 7” into my living room. And I’m forever grateful that Elliott Smith empowered me. How could they? Because they were often minor chord whispers in the darkest of the dark? Because he wrote rage-filled screams at those who hurt and abuse? I didn’t, and I don’t, find that sad. What I’m certain of is that even Elliott Smith’s saddest songs never made me feel sad. He was making music for “the sad kids.” Maybe. Mary Lou Lord was fond of saying that Elliott was the new Kurt Cobain, and I guess she’d know as well as anyone.
ELLIOTT SMITH EITHER OR REISSUE INDIE PLUS
It was Smith’s first proper release since Figure 8, an interminable three years plus for a dedicated, nerdy fan like me. I was too late each time, until a week or so before. Several times I’d tried to order Elliott Smith’s single “Pretty (Ugly Before)” from the Seattle label. In among whatever else had arrived was a package from Suicide Squeeze Records. The news that hit my screen very shortly rendered it anything but: Elliott Smith was dead in Los Angeles. On the morning of October 22, 2003, I woke, made coffee, and then plodded over to my computer and started poking around the Internet.
This time Chris Drabick ranks Elliott Smith. If you disagree with our ranking then please let us know in the comments section. The order is decided by the individual writer, rather than our editors.
ELLIOTT SMITH EITHER OR REISSUE INDIE SERIES
Welcome to Ranked, our recurring series in which one of our writers takes an artist’s catalogue and ranks all of their official studio albums from most essential to least essential.