Elliott Smith - Elliott Smith: A Name So Nice

Wow. If this is the quality of album that you folks are going to recommend, then I am in for a treat. I have definitely missed out on a lot of great stuff.

I’m not a huge fan of the singer-songwriter genre. I’ve been to too many open mics, I guess. There are a few acts that I can get behind, though. I dig Sufjan Stevens. There’s also a Tacoma artist, Patrick Galactic, who is fantastic. Garfunkel and Oates are hilarious. The problem is, people tend to treat being a singer-songwriter differently than being a musician. The prevailing theory seems to be that all you need is a guitar and feelings, and you, too, can be a singer-songwriter.

Elliott Smith did not abide by this theory. There’s an artistry - a performance in this album. Yes, there’s guitar. Yes, there are definitely feelings. There is, however, a structure and composition that seems to be lacking in most practitioners of the genre. The almost-whisper of his voice, forcing you to want to lean in closer to hear even though you’re wearing headphones. The judicious use of doubling on the vocals and guitar. The good sense to add percussion, harmonica, or strings when it calls for it. Elliott knew what he was doing here.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Sufjan Stevens owes everything to Elliott Smith. That was my first thought, listening to Elliott Smith. Pretty much the whole album reminded me of the best of Sufjan’s stuff, but better.

I was immediately struck by the dissonant chords that started the album. This was no standard E-A-D-G chord progression. When his voice hit, I did a bit of a double-take. It was so restrained and not-quite-gentle that I felt like I was being accused of something. Once I settled into the album, I realized that it felt like he was holding back a scream for the entire album. There was a Karamazovian rage in this simple little record of a man and his guitar.

The whole thing felt like it was made in 1995, if that makes sense. I could feel the grimy streets of the mid-90’s Pacific Northwest. I could hear the constant drizzle/rain that becomes a part of your psyche. This was more than grunge. It was what grunge wanted to be. It was the soul of disenfranchised, addicted, bored and angry rebellion, without any of the metal-inspired pop silliness (don’t get me wrong, I still love it!) that came from Sub Pop.

Basically, it was good. Really, really good. I became a fan of Elliott Smith. I was excited to see what he was up to. Then I looked him up.

Of course. Of course he died an early and tragic death. Of course he suffered from depression. Of course he was an addict. It all made sense. I’m not saying that pain and suffering are the only way to create something this beautiful, but it sure helps.

WHAT I LOVED

Pretty much everything. Specifically, his incredible voice, the creative use of guitar, and the production of the album. But really, the entire album was great. It made me appreciate the idea of a singer-songwriter more than I thought it would. The lyrics weren’t overly poetic, while still having a poetry about them. The music fit the voice. There was a sense of fragile explosiveness, like a glass cannon, throughout the whole thing. It ended with Elliott telling us that he just told the biggest lie, and I believed him.

One thing that I particularly enjoyed was the use of cursing. It’s not every day that you hear a singer-songwriter casually drop the F-bomb. It’s a jarring thing to hear such a delicate voice tell me that “no bad dream fucker’s gonna boss me around.” It adds to the sense of barely bridled anger. Of course, this isn’t Rage Against the Machine, and the “bad” words are used where appropriate, rather than the main mode of communication. It’s almost a fun little easter egg of profanity.

WHAT I HATED

Hate is a strong word. I’m not really sure that I hated anything on this album. I think it might have dragged on a little towards the end, but that could just be me. I have a problem with the middle-end of albums. Going back and listening to the tracks individually, they were fine, but I don’t think that I was as affected by “Alphabet Town” as I was by “Needle in the Hay” or “Christian Brothers.”

The thing I hated the most was listening to it on Spotify. Man, there is nothing quite as jarring as having Flo Rida start yelling at me right after hearing “Southern Belle.” Avoid Spotify if you’re planning on getting into an album. Honestly, it’s probably best if you avoid it altogether.

IS THIS ALBUM A CLASSIC?

Absolutely. This was Elliott Smith’s first major record. It put him on the map (although his recording of “Miss Misery” on the Good Will Hunting soundtrack is what he’s famous for). I can see it having been a record that I listened to over and over again in high school. If you enjoy music for music’s sake, give it a listen. You’re not gonna dance to it, but it will move you. If you’re a singer-songwriter, hopefully this will inspire you to do more than a crappy cover of “Hallelujah.”

WHAT’S NEXT?

How about some hip hop? I noticed quite a bit of hip hop and rap albums suggested in my introductory article. Now let’s hear what you think the classic hip hop album is. It doesn’t matter how old or new it is. If you think it’s a classic, a go-to, an album that you’ll never get tired of listening to, I want to hear it.

Thank you all so much for reading, and most importantly contributing to this column. As always, I’d love to hear your feedback, your criticism, and why you think I’m wrong.