It's been a year since he died, but it's still hard to talk about Elliott.

Singer-songwriter Elliott Smith had been working off and on for years trying to complete his sixth album, From a Basement on the Hill, all the while battling his demons and a long penchant for heroin he never quite shook.

One year ago yesterday, Smith was found dead in his home; he died, apparently, of a self-inflicted stab wound. When he died it wasn't clear what would happen with Smith's aborted Basement sessions, which were close to completion at the time of his death.

But now, with the help of frequent contributor Rob Schnapf and a few old friends, we finally have From a Basement, the closest guess we'll ever have to what Smith wanted from what's turned out to be his final LP.

Smith must have been awfully close to finishing Basement himself last October, since there are very few places on the album that don't feel like his own. Strikingly upbeat opener "Coast to Coast" is a bit strange at first, but that's quickly forgotten for the rest of the emotion-steeped record. "Pretty (Ugly Before)" is phenomenal, as are "Don't Go Down" and "Fond Farewell," but the first couple songs can feel a bit like retreads of Smith's previous album, Figure 8.

It'd be easy to call From a Basement more of the same from Smith if it were any other record. But, you know, it's not just another record.

If people still listened to LPs (although I suppose Elliott Smith fans are more likely to spin their confessional chamber-pop on the wheels of steel than most), the second side of Basement would prove itself in time to be the finest side of music all year.

Beginning with the dusky, lyrical "King's Crossing," the last half of Basement is on par with the best of Smith's work, if not better. I wouldn't be surprised if "Twilight" and "Memory Lane" don't become as recognizable as past Smith classics as "Miss Misery" and "Pitseleh." And the bluesy dirge of closer "A Distorted Reality Is Now a Necessity to Be Free" is one of the best songs Smith ever wrote, a bloody devastating last blast of vitriol and longing. Premature though it is, it's a fitting finale to Smith's recorded work.

I've heard from a few Smith fans that they might not even buy the album, or at least, not yet.

I can't say I blame them; disquietingly moving though From a Basement is, it's one of the most difficult records I've ever had to listen to, and even after a year of waiting, it still feels a little too soon. It's almost like a suicide note you're not quite sure you should be reading; it's a little masochistic, and it has to be treated with great care.

You won't want to listen to Basement with other people in the room, or in the car, or during the day; in fact, aside from a little jaunt walking around in the Monday evening rain, I still haven't heard From a Basement at the right time yet. It's incredible, but it just feels wrong. This can't be it. But it is.

"All things have a place under the moon as well as the sun," Smith sings in "Little One," and I guess that's the point of From a Basement on the Hill. I'll never get to see Smith play, or hear what he's working on next, or even get a chance to take in From a Basement the way he intended it. But Smith is probably happier wherever he is and, even though it's still hard to think about it a year on, we'll always have his records, always have "Angeles" and "Happiness" and the rest to get us through.

Basement isn't quite the pop masterpiece anyone watching Smith always expected him to make; it's merely a gorgeous, devastating testament to a guy who should've stuck around a while longer.