What a complete and total waste. ELLIOTT SMITH, the Portland native who had basically become the poet laureate of the indie community over the last few years, was found with an apparant self-inflicted knife wound at his home yesterday morning. Smith was rushed to local hospital and an hour later declared dead. Smith's rather open struggles with drug and alcohol abuse were well documented in the lyrics of his many solo albums, though his recent lack of production had many wondering if his personal demons had returned (one 7" single was released this year, the first new output from him in almost two years.) Smith was said to be working on a new record at his time of death. He leaves us with some of the most fragile, beautiful albums of our day, and fond memories of a VERY out-of-place Academy Award performance of "Miss Misery," his nominated track from "Good Will Hunting." Shame.

If you have any personal Elliott Smith stories--of meeting the man, chance encounters, please email liz with them. We are compiling recollections for an article with mundane sounds. While we appreciate the "i never did, but I was a fan" stories please keep in mind we are looking for personal stories.