Tortured souls often write the best music.
The heartbreak, the sorrow, the deviance, it all boils down to a yearning that, despite being too dramatic for listeners to completely associate with, is highly relatable in a broad context. For every time love is lost, for every abused drug, a tormented musician probably understands the feeling better than some fancy Freudian psychoanalytical approach.
Fans of broken hearted musicians everywhere mourned the loss of Elliott Smith, who committed suicide six years ago last Wednesday. Taking the route of the Ian Curtises and Kurt Cobains prior, Smith took the drastic way out with a suicide befitting a man so broken: two self-inflicted knife wounds to the chest. Leaving behind hundreds of songs with the underlying themes of loss, addiction, and general sadness, fans are left with the view of Smith as the stock character of a disturbed and lonely man.
But for those willing to sift through the mountain of sorrow Smith built song by song, the decade between the 1994 release of Roman Candle and 2004’s posthumous From a Basement on a Hill offers fans a few reminders that Smith was more multi-dimensional than his legacy has made him out to be.
Director Jem Cohen took notice of Smith early into his solo career and decided to make a short film that featured the songwriter playing a few acoustic songs. Recorded between October 17 and 20 in 1996, the film gives fans a brief glimpse into Smith’s mysterious character.
The shots that focus on Smith strumming “Between the Bars,” “Thirteen,” and “Angeles,” show how invested he was in his music. He looks entirely consumed by actions as simple as basic fingerpicking and soft humming. The youthful infatuation expressed in his excellent Big Star cover “Thirteen” is especially touching. Who knew Elliot Smith could make you crack a smile?
On October 25, 2007, photographer Autumn de Wilde released a scrapbook of images of Elliott Smith. Musicians like Beck and Ben Gibbard tell readers of the impact Smith had on their careers, while others (like his ex-girlfriend, and old bandmates) help to illuminate him as a man with a great past and a fantastic talent.
The best track on the scrapbook’s accompanying CD, a live cover of Hank Williams, Jr’s “All My Rowdy Friends,” greets listeners with a giggle. Smith sings playfully and then forgets the lyrics. If there were pictures of the recording, fans could see the smile on his face—a Kodak moment that begs for fans to see Elliott Smith as something other than sad and seething.
Bring a smile to James’ face—e-mail him at jmcgrory@georgetownvoice.com.
