The second story I wrote for the Daily Bruin was about Elliott Smith, so it seems only fitting that the second Throwback Thursday column be about one of the most emotive and honest singer-songwriters of the last few decades.
When I wrote the previous story about a high school community group, the Punk Rock Marthas, restoring the Elliott Smith mural in Silver Lake after a slew of vandalizations, I had the chance to physically write on the mural.
I chose my favorite Smith lyric: “To vanish into oblivion is easy to do.”
Smith may have wanted this verse to come true, leaving no remarkable trace when he died in 2003 from two stab wounds to the heart, likely a suicide. But fortunately for the rest of us, Smith’s music is still well and alive today.
Smith began his career in the early ’90s in Portland, Ore., with the rock band Heatmiser. Smith went solo in 1994 with his first release, “Roman Candle,” the title track of which showed Smith’s talent in writing beautiful, melancholy expressions of himself with just a guitar and his voice.
It wasn’t until a Portland friend of Smith’s, Gus Van Sant, decided to showcase Smith’s music in his feature film “Good Will Hunting” in 1997 that Smith’s soulful and poetic cries were heard on a grand scale. I remember watching Matt Damon driving West as the credits rolled, and hearing Smith’s “Miss Misery,” which would earn him an Oscar nomination for best original song, for the first time. The aching sound of Smith’s chorus was something new, a purely honest man narrating his feelings of sadness.
“Do you miss me, Miss Misery/ Like you say you do?” Smith sings in one of his most famous songs.
Beyond his “Good Will Hunting” fame, Smith conquered a cult following that remains alive to this day, stemming from critically acclaimed albums “Either/Or” and “Figure 8.” His songs became a staple for lost teenagers and humbling adults, as he defined what it truly means to be a singer-songwriter: not only to pour out your emotions on a beat-up guitar, but to do it in such a personal way that they link themselves to something bitterly human.
Smith’s 1997 song “Angeles” is a pure example of this. The soft guitar-picking seems to run through the song, while Smith’s whispering vocals bring a foggy atmosphere of pain to the foreground. Smith’s lyrics are both calming and aggressive as he begs: “Be forever with my poison arms, around you/ No one’s gonna fool around with us.”
Smith would release a total of five studio albums during his life, and two more posthumously. By the time his final collection of songs, “New Moon,” was released in 2007, Smith’s influence on the indie singer-songwriter scene was already in full swing. Artists such as Bright Eyes, Band of Horses and Iron & Wine continued Smith’s spirit of intelligent and honest lyrics behind intricately emotive guitar playing.
“New Moon” features unreleased tracks, from an early version of “Miss Misery” to a cover of “Thirteen” by Big Star. The album showcased an untouched version of Smith, of the tortured artist surrounded by two dozen pieces that he kept hidden from the world. It’s the only way left to dig into the depressive psyche of a man who could craft touching songs of heartbreak that would make Shakespeare dance.
The timelessness of Smith’s story is being revived once again with a new book by William Todd Schultz, “Torment Saint: The Life of Elliott Smith,” released in early October. “Torment Saint” is one of the first full biographies of the musician, appropriately released before the 10th anniversary of Smith’s death on Oct. 21.
As pop music moves further away from honest narratives and more toward the glamour of recognized stardom, Smith’s place in music might appear threatened. But his honest and melancholic melodies will be hard to wash away anytime soon. There’s something tender and warm about Smith’s music that, while not easily replicated, will surely live on in future generations.
Elliott Smith Playlist: