Review Summary: A celebration of sadness: From a Basement on the Hill is closure to the epic life of Elliott Smith.
Have you ever listened to a man die? Imagine sitting at the bedside of a man. He’s lying there weak and feeble, and in a low humble voice, slowly chokes on his last words. You hold their cold and pale hand as they tell you their mistakes, failures, and regrets. You’re staring into their dimming eyes as they shamelessly pour their hearts. They’re looking at you with those cold dying eyes holding back tears as they make you understand just how worthless they really are. You’re watching as they degrade themselves. They make you listen to the most horrendous things they’ve done. They crumble beneath you in their deathbed and beg you don’t make the same mistake they’ve done. They aren’t asking God for forgiveness, nor do they ask for yours. They, in a hollow whisper, ask for the pain to end.
From a Basement on the Hill deconstructs Elliott Smith like never before. It’s an autopsy fans can attend from up close. We pick him a part limb from limb through each of the 15 songs. We watch him crumble to dust before our very eyes. Elliott spirals further into madness through each lyric. He pushes people away, spikes his veins every night, and spends his morning a hollow shell of his former self. His family weeps for him, but Elliott is beyond numb. He forgot what nothing felt like and looks for something painful enough to give him a passing feeling. ‘King’s Crossing’ is the climax of the tune. Here we see Elliott at his worst. He binges his vices through the track. Sex, drugs, and drinking decorate the disgusting atmosphere we’re treated too. Elliott welcomes us with a shot of whiskey as we explore his sins. “I can’t prepare for death any more than I already have,” he says as he shoots up on heroin and beds some chicks searching for something to feel. “It’s Christmas time and the needles on the tree. A skinny Santa is bringing something to me,” an eerie passing glance into Elliott’s recent high. We watch in horror as our hero spikes up on poison. “Give me a good reason not to do it,” he begs, “so do it.”
‘Let’s Get Lost’ backtracks to a simpler side of the album. Sandwiched between ‘Coast to Coast’ and ‘Pretty (Ugly Before),’ ‘Let’s Get Lost’ is overlooked at times. It’s a tear-jerking melody of Elliott disconnecting from the world around him. “I had true love, I made it die. I pushed her away: she said please stay. Burning every bridge that I cross to find some beautiful place to get lost,” is the painful reality of Elliott’s personal life. We’re watching Elliot disregard *everyone* he’s ever met. He doesn’t care who follows him across the burning bridge. He’d rather them burn alive than be drug down his dark road. ‘Twilight’ is another soft-spoken track about disconnecting. Elliott meets a woman who’s perfect in every way. They spend all night talking to each other and having a good time. Finally, when the moment comes, they finish the night. Elliott can’t have her. He’s taken by someone else. He can’t *cheat* on his betrothed. He belongs to addiction just as addiction is to him. He bears a needle in the arm as a symbol of their love. He’s somebody else’s baby.
The soothing soundscape of a night sky, birds chirping, crickets creaking, and a cool nights breeze dresses the song in a blanket of sorrow. The candle flickers in the background as we watch two lovers enjoy a final night together. She doesn’t know Elliott any more than he knows himself, and she never will. Elliott wants to spare her the sadness of watching him die. Like a dog, he’d find a safe corner in a hall to lick his wounds. ‘A Fond Farewell’ is among my favorite tracks of the record. The upbeat riff is a disguise to the rotten core inside. The song swings you into a lighter track which overviews the daily struggle of Elliott Smith. He’s bidding farewell to his former self. “And I can deal with some psychic pain if it’ll slow down my higher brain,” uses heroin to distract his thoughts. “I see you’re leaving me and taking up with the enemy: the cold comfort of the in between. A little less than a human being; a little less than a happy high, a little less than a suicide – the only things that you’ve really tried,” show how he takes up with his addiction instead. He’s not faking anymore: this is Elliott. “This is not my life; it’s just a fond farewell to a friend.”
From a Basement on the Hill is a somber swansong to end the career of one of music’s finest. It’s a somber and respectful record that gives the listener closure. He’s not asking for forgiveness or mercy, he’s accepting his fate. He knows what he did, who he wronged, and what he gave away. We listen to the empty voice of a man who loved his misery. He tortured himself for the thrill. He spiked himself for the pain. He wanted to disappear just like the ink in his veins. He was looking for a reason *to* do it. He had nothing to live for, nor did he have a reason to die. He lived for his dying wish and he got it. We watched behind glass as he lay strung out on the floor trying to forget every memory of his life. We hear the splatter of vomit hitting the sink every morning. The pins and needles scattered across his home as he drearily whisks across the halls: endless arguments with his loved one just because he’s bored. We join as he stares into oblivion, the only substance capable of feeling as he does. After every sip of whiskey and every drop of blood, Elliott Smith stared us right in the face as he got what he wanted. How does it feel to watch a man die?
Standout Tracks
Coast to Coast
A Fond Farewell
Let’s Get Lost
Twilight
King’s Crossing
Pretty (Ugly Before)
A Distorted Reality Is Now a Necessity to Be Free
