The enduring legacy of Elliott Smith
“I’m never gonna know you now, but I’m gonna love you anyhow,” Elliott Smith sings on ‘Waltz #2 XO’. The lyrics chart an impenetrable distance between the songwriter and a loved one, but they also seem to reflect the relationship many of us have with Smith himself. Two decades on from his death, a whole generation of fans and budding musicians are still keeping the love for his sonic outpourings alive.
Though most of us were never awarded the privilege of knowing Smith, his music was so intimate and honest that it almost feels like we did. Masterful multi-tracking, intricate guitars and unflinchingly vulnerable lyrics turn Smith’s records into the sonic equivalent of a diary entry, with the power to comfort and devastate in equal measure.
Each song provided an intimate look at Smith’s personal struggles with mental health, delivered with all the rawness of a lo-fi record despite being expertly layered. Rather than demanding to be heard, Smith’s work found success and staying power by leaning into the quiet. For those of us who discovered Smith during our teen years, his music never leaves you.
For some, Smith’s work was so potent that it influenced their own artistry. The modern music scene is flooded with his inspiration. It’s so pervasive, in fact, that it somehow spawned a five-series podcast in which artists, from Nilüfer Yanya to Christian Lee Hutson, share their favourite tracks from his catalogue.
Perhaps the most notable and powerful example is contemporary indie folk staple Phoebe Bridgers, who has consistently cited and credited Smith for inspiring her music. Though she was just nine years old when he died, his name crops up in almost every interview she gives.
From double-tracked vocals to soft guitar sounds to melancholic musings, Smith’s sound informs almost every aspect of Bridgers’ output, as well as her musical interests. “If someone doesn’t like his music, I actually feel like I’m not going to agree with them about anything,” she once told NPR, “It informs everything I like.” Bridgers even referenced Smith’s ‘St. Ides Heaven’ in the opening lines of her own track ‘Scott Street’.
Julien Baker has also acknowledged the influence of Smith on her sound, but his hold on modern indie folk extends beyond Boygenius contributors. Big Thief frontwoman and soloist Adrianne Lenker discovered Smith through a boyfriend as a teenager and his grip on her has remained ever since.
“It just inspired me and blew my mind and still does,” she told Pitchfork, “The poetry on that record and also just the sonic quality. It’s so organic and raw but somehow also so soothing.” It’s clear to see how Lenker has tried to imitate that same quality on her own records, which often present a devastating mix of raw emotion and comforting instrumentation.
Lenker’s experience of Smith’s music perfectly encapsulates its beauty: “That is a record that really brings me into introspection,” she says, “That’s not always super comforting, I guess.” In his willingness to fall into melancholy, to depict it so honestly in his lyricism, Smith preempted and primed the current wave of introspective indie folk.
The Portland singer-songwriter has maintained an influence even outside of the soft, guitar-driven sphere he inhabited. Frank Ocean’s second studio album, and arguably his magnum opus, Blonde, featured a brief tribute to Smith’s ‘A Fond Farewell’. Sitting just atop a soundscape of swelling strings and airy vocals, Ocean declares, “This is not my life, it’s just a fond farewell to a friend.”
On the surface, Ocean’s unique form of arty R&B seems a stark contrast to Smith’s subdued strums. Really, the two are kindred spirits. They contain the same sense of melancholy and understanding, presented over soundscapes that are at once dense and intimate. Each of them have taken on roles as vulnerable voices of a generation.
Two decades on from his death, Smith remains an integral reference point across nearly every genre. More than that, though, his legacy is kept alive by the unrelenting love of those who felt seen or softened by his output. His music went far beyond soundwaves and guitar strums, providing a constant source of comfort and catharsis for those with bitten fingernails and a head full of the past.
