Pitchfork

Oh, Elliott. Are things really that bad? We've been listening to this grizzled old bastard's miseries since his self-titled, indier-than-Mary Lou Lord 1995 debut on Kill Rock Stars. And what has it gotten us? Well, those of us addicted to Smith's plug-and-play hooks got it in the ass-- we've invested well over $50 on his entire catalog. Ah, but it's a value, I guess. After all, it's a pretty rare event when we find someone this effortlessly capable of crafting whole albums of instantly accessible pop.

When we last left Elliott Smith, his Dreamworks debut, XO, was being called the best album of 1998 by all your dad's periodicals. His songwriting had clearly advanced since the release of his heralded indie classic, Either/Or, and songs like "Bottle Up and Explode", "Tomorrow Tomorrow", and "Pitseleh" featured far more intelligent lyrics and melodies than the songs off its predecessor. But Smith's long-time followers-- Olympia indie punks and emo kids-- saw a problem. XO's multi-layered vocal harmonies, syrup-drenched string sections, polished effects and warm atmospheres detracted from the intimacy of his semi-confessional earlier work. It also didn't help that, from out of nowhere, he was nominated for a very un-punk Academy Award for his song "Miss Misery", which was featured prominently in the also very un-punk Good Will Hunting.

A minor indie backlash ensued shortly after the record's release, but the songs spoke for themselves, and despite the record's overwhelming studio sheen, XO still holds up today as a damn fine record. The new album, of course, will be a major determining factor in the course of his career. It could break new ground in the genre, taking a hammer to conventional pop rules and re-writing music history (don't count on it), or it could establish him as the new king of adult contemporary radio, virtually erasing his name from punk's history books. Of course, it comes out somewhere between the two. Figure 8, ultimately, isn't as good a record as XO or Either/Or, though the man's not out of the picture yet.

Punk fans will be pleased to know that Figure 8 is a bit more raw than XO, though the same production team-- Tom Rothrock and Rob Schnapf-- was called in again. The album accomplishes more with less saccharine perfection. But sadly, Smith still goes a little overboard here and there. The throwaway toy-piano honky tonk of "In the Lost and Found (Honky Bach)" is a giant, airy studio disaster complete with high-treble piano, a rambling, go-nowhere melody, and a glistening chamber hall effect that sounds like someone dropped a reverb bomb by the mic. "Wouldn't Mama Be Proud" is a grasp for the VH-1 ring that puts Reef to shame. And the first single, "Son of Sam", hasn't got a damn thing on "Sweet Adeline" or "Speed Trials", Smith's previous album openers-- it's one of the least infectious songs this guy's written since Roman Candle.

But while Elliott Smith includes some of his least inspired music of all time on Figure 8, he also surprisingly pulls out some of his best to date. The simple, jerky, acoustic melodrama of "Somebody That I Used to Know" proves that Smith can sing in other tones than his standard shy whisper. "Everything Means Nothing to Me" harbors an unpredictable, evolving, vaguely psychedelic tune, and uses the album's massive major label budget to its advantage by incorporating creative, unique ideas and not overdoing it with the Neil Diamond Orchestra. "I Better Be Quiet Now" serves as the most affecting ballad here with its acoustic intimacy, gentle guitar strum, and Smith's lyrical honesty: "If I didn't know the difference/ Living alone would probably be okay/ It wouldn't be lonely/ I got a long way to go/ I'm getting further away."

But "Pretty Mary K" sums up Figure 8 most ably. It carries the burden of that "wall of Schnapf" reverb overdrive, and is a shining example of Smith's sometimes lumbering songwriting which, in its attempts to remain original, can become unbearably random-sounding-- a problem that plagues this record from start to finish. Yet, it also pulls some of the album's most impressive twists, and most clearly recalls the Beatles of any of these songs.

16 Elliott Smith songs is a lot to plow through, though-- even 16 of his greatest tracks would be a task. The question here is: is it worth wading through the filler to get to the good stuff? In some cases, as with "Color Bars" and "Everything Reminds Me of Her", it can be. But how much "Honky Bach" can one person stand? Figure 8 is, without a doubt, another step down from XO in terms of songwriting, even if its production has taken a step in the right direction (that is, away from Michael Penn's house). In the grand scheme of things, however, you only need to hear so much Elliott Smith before you get the point.