When an indie musician makes it into the tabloids, it’s almost always for the wrong reasons. For me, it felt particularly weird in the case of the American indie-rock star Elliott Smith. Soon after Peaches Geldof died of an overdose on 7 April 2014, the Daily Mirror published an article linking the tragedy to her obsession with “the heroin-addict singer”. Geldof, a journalist, had been a big fan of Smith and had recently posted a list of her 25 most listened-to songs on social media. All were his. She had also described him as a “kindred spirit” and, according to the report, had quarrelled publicly with her husband about her fixation with his haunting, introspective music. Though the article stopped short of making a direct accusation, its framing was clear: Smith was somehow to blame for her death.
It was a spurious suggestion, dumb enough to be picked up by the Daily Mail, which ran its own lengthy piece on Geldof’s fascination with the Nebraska-born, Texas-raised recording artist. It was, in all likelihood, the biggest mainstream exposure that he ever received in the UK. That’s a shame because Smith was a singular talent. His decade-long solo career began with the home-recorded album Roman Candle, which marks its 30th anniversary this week; his fame peaked with the Oscar-nominated 1997 song “Miss Misery”, featured prominently in the final moments of the Gus Van Sant film Good Will Hunting as Matt Damon’s troubled genius honks down the highway to go see about a girl. Then, on 21 October 2003, he took his own life after many years of depression exacerbated by drug use. He was 34 years old. His sad end invited comparisons with Kurt Cobain, as well as a morbid sort of star worship among better-to-burn-out-than-to-fade-away bozos who found glamour and authenticity in his real-life suffering. Portrayed as a rock ’n’ roll martyr, he began his posthumous rule as indie’s “torment saint”, an ill-fitting reputation given extra weight by William Todd Schultz’s 2013 biography of that title, named after a mishearing of the words “torn mainsail” in the obscure non-album track “Go By”.
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