"When an artist dies, who gets to be remembered for their art, and who gets caught in the amber of their death? Longevity helps; if Picasso hadn't outlived his Blue Period and Guernica by a long stretch of years, he might be dinted today as indulgently moody. At eighty-two Leonard Cohen was still making decadently sad albums-his last, You Want It Darker, only months before his death-but because he wore a suit and spent time as a monk, he's remembered less as a poet laureate of melancholy, more as a poet, full stop. Elliott has been swallowed up by a darkness that fully consumed him only at the end. It's never seemed to use a childish word-fair. "There's kind of an inordinate amount of focus on whether I'm personally happy or not," Elliott said once. "If you have a bad dream, does that mean that you're not a happy person? I mean, that's the same place that songs come from.""
— Jamie Fisher: Nobody Broke Your Heart










