But in the case of Elliott Smith, his story
is not “suddenly” our story, at least not for a good number
of us. We were already right there with him, cheering him on, hoping
that a songwriter of his subtlety and grace could make the major-label
career work. We heard about performances where he’d forget lyrics
or cut songs off mid-way through, apologizing frequently, and we’d
worry. But because he was, in a way, a member of our family, we trusted
that he’d pull through: after all, we always manage to pull through
somehow, don’t we? But with his final terrible selfish act, Elliott
Smith asserts that no, we don’t always make it out the other side
unscathed. Sometimes the despair gets to us and we do something rash.
There are several implications to this, none of them good.
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