Focusing on his sleight, finger-plucked guitar (“Alameda”) or the phantom chill on his breath as he croons (“No Name No. Spotlighting one aspect of Smith’s artistry is the quickest way to neglect everything else that brings it together. What’s most impressive, about both this record and Smith in general, is that it’s very difficult to highlight what makes it him: unique. But Either/Or, his third full-length, shows he didn’t need David Geffen’s record label to reign supreme over the indie scene. Its predecessor, the eponymous Elliott Smith, contains some of the best cuts of his career, and its successor, XO, gave Smith a bigger budget than he could’ve imagined, rocketing his capabilities beyond what the eight-track recorder could handle.

John Mayer couldn’t hold a roman candle to Smith.ġ997 saw Either/Or, a crystallization of one of his many gifts. Effortlessly profound, endlessly talented and proficient with his instruments, and entirely artistically self-motivated. Elliott Smith isn’t a white guy with a guitar, middling about with a trust fund - he’s who all these white guys with guitars are trying and failing and failing and failing again to be.

He tries not to drone over some plucky, hyper-complicated riff rather, his music is intentional, in its luster or lack thereof, from start to finish. His voice exhibits control and restraint, but not necessarily detachment. Listening to that playing, though, it’s hard not to imagine Smith’s fingers smoking on the fretboard. His works sounded very bare: a cheap acoustic guitar, recording gear from his girlfriend’s basement, an occasional second instrument to accompany his voice and strumming.

Elliott Smith seemed to operate on deception … at first.

Elliott smith either or cd