The power of goodbye: Rufus Wainwright and Elliot Smith make leaving bittersweet.

If Rufus Wainwright ever retires from show business, he could earn a few bucks as a sort of Cyrano de Bergerac. Only instead of love paeans, Wainwright would compose Dear John notes and letters of resignation. Throughout his fifth full-length album, Release the Stars, Wainwright repeatedly bids adieu to people and places (most notably: George W. Bush's America on "Going to a Town") and things. And while mere mortals employ hackneyed phrases like "it's not you, it's me," the 33-year-old songwriter always opts for the more eloquent and amusing: "Though we live in the same city / You live in another state, far away from me" ("Between My Legs").

Don't be misled by the credits on Release the Stars. While Nell Tennant of Pet Shop Boys served as executive producer and Marius de Vries (Madonna, Bjork) mixed the disc, this 12-song set is no slick dance-floor outing. It boasts a gay sensibility of a different stripe. Wainwright moves away from his earlier leanings to embrace a style reminiscent of 20th-century American art song. The romantic interlude "Tiergarten"--complete with harp flourishes--and the rippling strings and blue-collar imagery of "Tulsa" (think potato chips and Marlon Brando) owe more to the oeuvres of Samuel Barber and Ned Rorem than Irving Berlin or Cole Porter. When he sings sotto voce the performances feel especially poignant; he closes "Leaving for Paris" by singing "goodbye" so solely it's almost inaudible, yet the two small syllables seem to echo.

Elliott Smith never really said his goodbyes. The circumstances of his sudden death in 2003 at age 34 remain mysterious. But his erratic behavior, drug and alcohol abuse, run-ins with the law, and disastrous concerts in the years leading up to his death hinted that he might not stick around to fulfill his promise as one of his generation's greatest songwriters.

The 24 previously unreleased tracks on New Moon hark back to a happier time in his career, between 1994 and 1997. These songs retain the intimacy that made his indie-label work so appealing--tape hiss and fingertips on the fret board are audible on quieter numbers, especially the muddy yet mesmerizing "See How Things Are Hard." Other Smith trademarks are on full display too, including double-tracking of his breathy vocals and a startling honesty in his lyrics about drugs ("High Times"), dishonesty, and emotional turmoil.

But New Moon also offers as a powerful reminder that Smith's work--which grew more baroque in time--was richer in character than his tortured image and modest arrangements initially suggested. "Go By," "Almost Over," and "Thirteen" (the last of these a Big Star cover) integrate hints of country rock, while the ferocious "Big Decision" is essentially an unplugged punk rave-up.

Smith stopped and started work frequently in the last years of his life. So, generous as it is, this double disc, mixed by engineer Larry Crane (archivist for Smith's estate), might not be the last of his unreleased material to come. In the meantime, this posthumous title is a welcome addition to his catalog. Let us not say another bittersweet goodbye, then, but simply au revoir.