Invisible Hits is a column in which Tyler Wilcox scours the internet for the best (and strangest) bootlegs, rarities, outtakes, and live clips.

Like Nick Drake, the singer-songwriter he’s most often compared to, Elliott Smith’s tragic death inevitably casts a pall over his music. Smith’s songs were already dark, but his passing at the age of 34 in 2003 (perhaps a suicide, perhaps not) turned them pitch black. Next week’s reissue of Either/Or is surely a different listen now than it was in 1997, and not just because of a few previously unheard tracks. It can be difficult to hear his work—as masterfully written, performed, and produced as it is—without a gloomy specter creeping into one’s mind.

But another way back into Elliott Smith’s music awaits on Archive.org, the nonprofit online repository that hosts several dozen live recordings of the songwriter, uploaded by fans and collectors with the permission of Smith’s estate. These tapes, stretching from his first solo forays to his final appearance in 2003, give an alternate view of the musician. The darkness lingers, of course, but the songs have room to breathe a bit more in a live setting, allowing us to appreciate Smith’s craft afresh. We even get to hear him crack a joke or two.

Club Congo // Scottsdale, Arizona // late 1994 or early 1995

In 2017, with Smith's legend firmly in place, it’s easy to say that the songwriter's early solo shows should have been met with a hushed, respectful silence. But in the mid-’90s, some audience members just didn't give a shit. This tape, one of the oldest known documents of Smith as a solo acoustic performer, is a battle between a chatty Club Congo crowd and Elliott's early repertoire. “You guys always pay $7.50 to come and talk?” he complains half-heartedly at one point. But if anything, the distracted crowd—which, to be fair, does seem to include plenty of fans—seems to intensify Smith's delivery. Of special interest is the skewed remake of the old folkie number, “Little Maggie,” with Smith locating the harrowing heartbreak lurking in the timeworn lyrics. (Tracklist and legal download here)

Morning Becomes Eclectic // May 6, 1997

Promoting Either/Or in the cozy confines of KCRW's studio a few years later, Smith didn't have inattentive bar patrons to deal with. But he did have Morning Becomes Eclectic’s inquisitive host Chris Douridas’ questions to deflect, whether about his influences (“I was really into Kiss and the Beatles”) or his upbringing (“let’s not get into that”). Awkward interview segments aside, the music here is captivating, a crystal clear example of Smith’s growing power as a live performer. His whisper-thin vocals cut to the quick with every phrase, while his elegant-yet-urgent guitar playing is note-perfect—check out the bone-chilling rendition of “Needle in the Hay” or the deceptively breezy “Say Yes” for proof. As uncomfortable as Smith sounds when not singing his songs, this was just the start of his time in the spotlight. Less than a year later, he’d be performing at the Oscars, thanks to the inclusion of “Miss Misery” on the Good Will Hunting soundtrack. (Tracklist and legal download here)

Le Pavillon Lion // Bourges, France // April 17, 1999

Smith came to prominence as an acoustic troubadour, but he had his sights set on a bigger sound. To support the more lushly produced XO, the songwriter toured with a lean trio made up of Quasi’s Sam Coomes on bass and backing vocals and Paul Pulvirenti on drums. This tape of the band in France is a high-energy thrill ride, with Smith leading his cohorts through hopped-up versions of XO’s highlights and rearranged older favorites, as well as a few previews of Figure 8. Any fans expecting a mellow night must’ve been surprised by the explosive readings of “Son of Sam” and “Baby Britain,” among others, showcasing Smith’s scratchy, urgent electric guitar. He could switch gears effortlessly, though: check out the solo mini-set here, including a hauntingly gorgeous “Easy Way Out.” This is Smith at his most confident, his most dynamic, his most accessible. (Tracklist and legal download here)

The Wiltern // L.A. // November 9, 2001

In 2001, Smith began working on what would become From a Basement on the Hill, released posthumously in 2004. Though these prolonged sessions with an array of collaborators stretched on until Smith’s death, he began previewing songs early on in the creative process. This mini set from a Los Angeles benefit show is all new material, and it offers skeletal portraits of despair in songs like “Let’s Get Lost,” “Strung Out Again,” and “Twilight.” The Wiltern’s natural echo lends a ghostly vibe to the set, with Smith’s vocals sounding even more vulnerable than usual and a frayed edge creeping into his typically fastidious guitar work. (Tracklist and legal download here)

Henry Fonda Theatre // L.A. // February 1, 2003

“The songs came from Elliott,” his friend Sean Croghan wrote in the liners for rarities collection New Moon. “Elliott was not a creation of his songs.” He’s right, of course, but it would take a healthy dose of denial to not hear a man nearing the end of his rope on this tape of an early 2003 gig. Still playing a wealth of new material destined for inclusion on From a Basement on the Hill, the laser focus of previous years is gone, in its place a ragged desperation. The pure self-loathing on the opening “King’s Crossing” is almost tangible. But there are flashes of the old brilliance, including a precisely rendered “Between the Bars,” and even “Miss Misery,” a song Smith rarely returned to after its Oscar nomination. There’s even some welcome humor in his occasionally rambling between-song banter, and a loose cover of Oasis’ “Supersonic,” with 764-HERO’s Robin Heringer joining in on drums. “This is probably going to piss some people off,” Smith says by way of introduction, before launching into Noel Gallagher’s cocksure lyrics and swaggering melody—a million miles away from his own approach. But you can tell that, for at least a few minutes, Smith is enjoying a temporary escape from his demons. (Tracklist and legal download here)