I kept hearing about Elliott; about how he'd finally kicked the heroin for good, then about how maybe he was back on, how the new record was going to be his masterwork, orchestral like XO but stripped bare like Roman Candle. There was a single for "Pretty (Ugly Before)," but it was a limited-issue, and I figured I could just wait for the album. I never once thought he wouldn't get to finish it.

On Oct. 21, Steven Paul "Elliott" Smith took his own life at his home in Los Angeles. He was 34. After I woke up and heard the news, I spent the day talking to everyone I could about Elliott, about how beautiful XO is, how that scene in The Royal Tenenbaums would be even harder to watch now, how much he meant to all of us. There are plenty of exquisite songwriters, plenty of wayward souls making music, but people just took to Elliott differently. They made every line, every note, their own.

I, like everyone else who ever heard him, have my own memories of Elliott's music. I saw him on the Oscars in his white tux, looking positively terrified, Celine Dion and Trisha Yearwood and all that, and it left enough of an impression that I went out and bought Elliott Smith (still my favorite of his records) the next day. I remember driving around with my then-girlfriend shortly after XO came out, and something about the sun over the cornfields and the sound of "Bled White" playing as loud as conversation would permit made for an afternoon I've carried with me for years now. I remember taking a school trip to Chicago the day after Figure 8 came out, blasting "Junk Bond Trader" as we rolled through the suburbs.

There are memories of depression, too, of hearing certain lines in "Condor Ave" or "Ballad of Big Nothing" at certain points in my life when they hit me the hardest and I was totally losing it. These are the memories that Elliott's music evokes the most and the reason it's so hard for people to talk about him is because what can you say about someone who you never met who you feel like you've known all your life?

The five albums Elliott released in his lifetime are all worth owning; from the hushed folk of Roman Candle and Elliott Smith to the pop dynamism of Either/Or and Figure 8, each is a heartbreaker, coupled with Elliott's underrated sense of sonics. XO is Elliott's prettiest and most accessible record, and probably where those uninitiated with his music should start. There's no weak link, though, and like Jeff Buckley before him, the records he released when he was alive will only serve to fuel speculation that something even greater was still on the way.

When we lost Elliott, we lost one of best ones we had; a consummate record maker, an astonishing wordsmith and a really gentle, decent man. I'm no eulogist; I'm just a fan. And still, weeks later, I can't believe he's put down his guitar for the last time.

Thank you Elliott, and goodbye.