Originally released four years before he cut such a famously dishevelled figure at the Oscars for his part in the 'Good Will Hunting' OST, ELLIOTT SMITH'S début solo album 'Roman Candle' was recorded while he was still an integral part of Portland Alt. Punksters Heatmiser in 1993/94.
Much starker and more lo-fi than the melodic treats he would cut from 'Either/ Or' onwards, 'Roman Candle' nonetheless remains a fine first flowering and – after some gentle re-mastering from Smith estate archivist Larry Crane – now comes to us in more user-friendly form, with some of the harsh vocal consonants and guitar fret squeaks tidied up.
Which isn't to say 'Roman Candle' has been airbrushed into mainstream success or any such nonsense. The opening title track still finds you hopping up and down the frets with him and none of the intimacy of the original album's 'live in the basement' feel has been tarnished. 'Roman Candle' itself remains as striking as ever, with Smith's obsessive lyrics (“I want to hurt him, I want to give him pain”) acting in stark contrast to the music's inherent acoustic beauty.
The rest of the album maintains the high standard. There are a couple of great, lonely driving songs in 'Condor Ave' and 'Drive All Over Town'. The latter is a little sketchy and Smith sounds like he's almost teasing the song out of himself as he goes on (“until he tracks her down, he'll drive all over town”), but 'Condor Ave' is a fully-fledged gem and surely the best “Oldsmobile” song since The Dream Syndicate's 'Merrittville'.
The proliferation of songs afforded 'No Name' titles ('No Name #1', 'No Name #2', 'No Name #3' and 'No Name #4') is a little frustrating. The throwaway titles suggest songs that are sketchy and unfinished, but 'No Name #1' and 'No Name #4', especially, are among the highlights here. 'No Name #1' is fleshed out with the kind of gentle bass and brushed drums that would feature on Smith's self-titled second album and he's already grasping for the sound that would make 'Either/Or' such a satisfying listen. 'No Name #4' is even better. A scarred survivor's folk-blues, it's a vivid tale of a girl exiting an abusive relationship (“for a change, she got out/ before he hurt her bad”) before it turns fatal and is, naturally, awarded a honey of a tune to accompany her flight.
Hang around for a while and the shadows which would later engulf Smith's creative sun begin to mass. Although a great track, 'Last Call' is by some way the heaviest thing here, with maudlin, alcohol-soaked lyrics (“when you start to drink, you just want to continue/ it'll all be yesteryear soon”) scrapping with the loudest guitar overdub on the record and a nihilistic feel which is hard to shake. It's typical of the perversely brilliant Elliott Smith that he follows it up with an unlikely, but quite wonderful surf instrumental in 'Kiwi Mad Dog 20/20' which again features a fully-rounded group sound and what sounds like Dick Dale adding lead guitar. I may be wrong, of course, but he really sounds like he was enjoying himself at this stage and wanted to let us in on the secret.
'Roman Candle' remains relatively vulnerable and skeletal compared to what Elliott Smith would later achieve with bigger studios and a little coaxing from the Dreamworks label, but of course it's due to that very intimacy that it remains a firm favourite with the fans. Even with just a cheap acoustic guitar, a small basement space and some gentle encouragement from his friends, Elliott Smith had what it takes to make magic happen.
