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The Rice Thresher
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Josh Katz thresher staff This might very well be the only rock 'n' roll show where the tear in your eye isn't from the sting of cigarette smoke. When Elliott Smith played at Numbers Oct 19, the eyes of more than a few sensitive indie rockers grew damp thanks to his soft, guitar-based pop longings. Not many people noticed Smith in the early-'90s Portland-based indie rock band Heatmiser. Even fewer would recognize his first solo effort from 1995, an entirely acoustic affair that featured his own guitar work, a few harmonica parts and an occasional stand-in drummer. Elliott Smith has now released five solo albums, each gradually expanding his sound and production technique. In 1997, Smith got a small break when he landed four powerful tunes on the Good Will Hunting soundtrack. He performed at the Oscars that year and his "Miss Misery" was nominated for best original song. Then he lost to Celine Dion's bilious ghost-written piece of crap from the Titanic soundtrack. Not that it left anyone bitter. That's life for Elliott Smith. His lyrics speak of depression and alcoholic woe. The girl always leaves and happiness is only another St. Ides away. Tomorrow comes and the loneliness returns. Everyone who went to see him perform knew to bring a few hankies. It's impossible to separate Elliott Smith, the psychological profile, from his music. What resulted at Numbers was a concert of emotional beauty and tenderness, but more importantly, roots rock. After signing to major label Dreamworks in '98, Smith has released two rock albums, featuring (gasp!) electric guitars, bass, piano, occasional string arrangements and a full drum kit. His latest, this year's Figure 8, even includes upbeat pop tunes such as "Son of Sam" and "Happiness." Happiness? Elliott? Yes, with Prozac to complement the enormous bottle of Jim Beam, Smith took the stage with a full backup band at Numbers. And thankfully, amazingly, the rhythm section never once detracted from Smith's virtuous solo abilities. As much fun as it would have been to see Smith playing his songs alone with his acoustic Gibson, this isn't a folk revival and the decidedly full, live sound the band lent to his newer tunes created genuine excitement and serious head-nodding among the crowd. Even accompanied, Smith's vocals still float softly and sadly. On his albums, he layers his own voice into multiple-part harmonies to create an eerie and rich effect. This is tough to do in concert without Backstreet-style backup tapes or sophisticated cloning equipment. His backup band, however, features remarkably adept harmonizing by the bass and organ/synthesizer players. In this way, a Smith concert isn't sonically worse than a Smith recording. Smith has the shyest, most beguiling stage presence of any performer I've seen. Besides asking if the audience was doing OK, twice, he paused between songs only for swigs of beer, an occasional awkward grin to the audience, or another guitar being handed to him by his busy roadies. I counted seven different guitars in all, an impressive tally. Smith reworked several of his earlier acoustic numbers such as "Clementine" and "Needle in the Hay" into full-band rock. It's tough to say that something wasn't lost in the transition from wispy acoustic to full electric, but it's the differences from a studio album that make a concert intriguing. Smith performed nearly all of his singles and the best-known works from his five solo albums, including acoustic versions of the Good Will Hunting daydream "Say Yes" and the bitter "Southern Belle." Smith was called to perform a second encore, at which point he asked the audience what they wanted to hear. "My song or a cover?" he asked. "Yours!" "An old song or a new song?" "Old!" "A happy song or a sad song?" "Sad!" (as if there was even a choice). "A tall song or a short song?" "_?" He launched, solo, into the Good Will Hunting tune "Angeles," a gentle lost-love classic, just one man strumming a guitar and pouring his heart out for another night. And the music, bittersweet and complex, ended with the hope that just maybe, happiness really is around the corner.
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