"I think he talked...one of those last interviews I couldn't bear to read until recently, no fault to the magazine, but it was just hard reading it knowing how articulate he had been before all that."
I had heard of similar instances as Smith took the concert stage, making a complete mess of his songs as one would fumble for their apartment keys after a night of full-on poison.
Though tragedy breeds response, Elliott Smith was more obvious an instrument for others, not himself. Autumn de Wilde's book is as close an approximation to the fact, second only to Smith's own discography.
Included in the book are hundreds of photographs de Wilde took during Figure 8. I had always thought Elliott was camera shy, but the camera never cared. Autumn de Wilde's is no exception, just more belligerent. Her lens fantasized Elliott's reality and these pictures serve proper supplement to the stories told.
3 comments:
I've never really painted my life with the ES shade. Perhaps I should start.
This book cover looks familiar. Is it in your living room?
Was...made it's way upstairs.
Well ain't that some shit!
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