On a gloomy October evening, nearly seven years ago, I was hard at work at a busy shift in the emergency room of the Women and Children's Hospital of Buffalo when word began to trickle down of "another depressed junkie musician suicide". My co-workers that evening derided and mocked this "sad-sack" musician who had apparently stabbed himself with a knife, close to the heart. Only after some of the initial hub-bub had settled down did I find out that the identity of that musician who died by his own hand that night was Elliott Smith. It was very difficult for me to finish my shift, as Smith's music had kept such a special place in my consciousness. I knew he was fragile - his depression and drug abuse were somewhat legendary - but his music constantly seemed like a cry for help; a narrative to a deeply scarred man's life. He was also deeply shy - one look at his live performance of his Oscar-nominated "Miss Misery" on the Academy Awards ceremony in 1998 drives this point home strongly - and was famous for shyly and rarely interacting with his audiences at live shows. It might have been that shyness or that fragility that led him not to seek further help in the dark days leading up to his suicide. He has left a recorded legacy that seems to parallel that of another deeply flawed and internally wounded singer/songwriter - legendary British folk troubadour, Nick Drake.
Although our city isn't dead, Buffalo has been on life support for decades, now. Like Smith, our city has wonderful potential, yet it somehow gets flitted away year after year - each capable of great beauty, yet always seeming sad and downtrodden to those who consider it/him. Fortunately, our city has hope (just as Elliott did prior to plunging that dirty knife deep into his chest) - there are signs that the "brain drain" that so famously takes our doctors, lawyers, and professionals tutored at the University at Buffalo away from us is slowing. Our housing market hasn't taken the plunge as so many cities' markets across the country have, and our downtown area, slowly but surely, makes a little more of a comeback every year.
As years have passed, it seems as though the memory of Elliott Smith has faded slightly, as has the memory of Buffalo's storied past. His songs are as powerful as any in the last 20 years - for their message of loss, addiction, hope, and struggle. The photographer Autumn de Wilde released a beautiful posthumous photograph book entitled Elliott Smith in 2007. Some photos from the book are available for viewing at de Wilde's website - HERE. The book is an intimate photographic look into an artist who constantly tried to avoid intimacy. I encourage each of you to check it out (a copy proudly lives in the Ideological Cuddle's archives).
It would truly be a shame for those of us who care so deeply about music to allow his legend to disappear. Although each of his albums are wonderful, the most affecting songs Elliott Smith ever committed to tape tend to be those that are stark and spare - just his wounded voice and a guitar. Below, you'll find a collection of solo acoustic songs that Elliott recorded in February of 1999 live in studio for broadcast. It contains two of Smith's most heartfelt and affecting songs - "Baby Britain" and "Waltz #2 (XO)", each found in studio form on his breakthrough record, XO. I truthfully had no idea I owned this music, but I'm proud to share it with all of you out there. The songs are bleak on the surface, but give them a chance - Smith's light will shine through (and one day, so will Buffalo's).
Elliott Smith - Live at Glen Sound Studios, Seattle, WA - February, 22, 1999 :
"Happiness" (please excuse the annoying radio host at the outset of the track)
"Son of Sam"
"Baby Britain"
"Everything Reminds Me Of Her"
"Rose Parade"
"Waltz #2 (XO)"
Until next time, remember the good things about The City of Good Neighbors, find some Elliott Smith, and listen...
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