SEWARD: Why we should not idolize tortured artists' lives
Column: Exploring Humanity with Sam Seward
Music and mental health go hand in hand. Countless people have cited music as a form of therapy — an escape from the brutal circumstances they find themselves in. Music provides hope, a way forward for the listener to a better future, along with comfort in the knowledge that the musicians we idolize experience the same emotions as us.
Oftentimes, in the latter case, this kind of music is birthed from mental illness. Thom Yorke of Radiohead fame cites the electronic shift in the album "Kid A" being "borne as a result of severe depression and writer's block" and that he was "a complete f*cking mess" at the time of recording. That album, while receiving mixed reviews upon release, is now acclaimed as a revolutionary shift in the band's sound and considered one of the best albums of the 2000s.
Therefore, the rapturous acclaim that this album achieved should mean that the tortured artist trope works for the musician, right?
Mark Linkous is a name few will know. He served as the leader of the band Sparklehorse throughout its duration and received acclaim in writers circles for his fragile lyrics and range of sound, going from grungy alt-rock to country-twinged chamber pop, all the while singing in a voice that never truly seemed comfortable behind the microphone. Sparklehorse seemingly did it all.
Opening up for Radiohead on the OK Computer tour while being dubbed the British group's favorite band, collaborations with famous musicians like Tom Waits, Julian Casablancas and PJ Harvey and appearing on the "Life is Strange" soundtrack made him considered to be the peak of musical achievement.
Though the band never received its due in a commercial sense, these accomplishments, to most, may seem like they should have been enough to satisfy Linkous' musicianship and fulfill any emotional pitfalls he may have felt.
Linkous' story does not have such a happy ending. He endured a lot throughout his musical career. Linkous initially achieved a small amount of success as a guitarist for the 1980s power-pop group the Dancing Hoods, appearing on the musical show "120 Minutes" in search of a record deal. But that record deal never came, and his time with the group left him with a heroin addiction.
He was able to kick his habit, though, and landed a six-figure deal with Capitol Records for the release of Sparklehorse's debut album, "Vivadixiesubmarinetransmissionplot," which happened to catch the ear of York and fellow Radiohead member Jonny Greenwood, both of whom were major fans of the record and had the group open for them on several U.K. tour dates.
It was after one of these gigs that Linkous had an adverse reaction to a combination of Valium and antidepressants, which caused him to nearly die, leaving him in a wheelchair for months and a leg brace for the rest of his life.
Linkous continued producing high-quality music for an audience that was slowly shrinking. Capitol Records, who once believed in him enough to fork more than hundreds of thousands of dollars to release his music, dropped him suddenly during a 2007 tour. Furthermore, numerous deaths rained down on Linkous, namely his confidant and fellow musician Vic Chesnutt.
The death of Chesnutt took a major toll on Linkous, as both were "tortured artists with morbid streaks rooted in disability and bleak outlooks on life." Chesnutt understood Linkous like few other people did. Another one of those people was his now ex-wife Teresa Linkous, who would "always grab him in the knick of time and save him."
Linkous' wife left him, and he lost his moorings, resulting in a tragic yet predictable fate. Several months into 2010, the then 47-year-old took his own life near a friend's home.
Listening to Sparklehorse's music often results in nearing tears, knowing the fate that Linkous suffered.
There should be no blame assigned for how his life ended, and there is no one who should suffer the way he did. Linkous was a once-in-a-generation artist, yet at the end of the day, he was still a human being with faults, insecurities and worries, just like the rest of us.
No art is worth the amount of suffering that he went through. Not only can we find solace in Linkous' music, but we also can learn from his struggles. Mental illness is not something to aspire to, nor is it something that gives us a "cool" edge. It is a serious issue that has robbed us of many wonderful people who have touched us in a positive way, Linkous included.
Also, no grade or assignment is worth driving yourself into mental anguish, just like no piece of art is worth driving yourself into mental anguish. Reach out, talk to a therapist or loved one, and remember that life is full of opportunity and wonder if you embrace it.
Not everything has to be perfect, and failure is a natural part of life, something we must overcome rather than sink into. To quote Thom Yorke, "The best you can is good enough."
Samuel Seward is a junior in the School of Arts and Sciences, majoring in political science and minoring in English. His column, "Exploring Humanity with Sam Seward," runs on alternate Wednesdays.
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