The Life and Death of Mark Linkous: The Elusive Artist

Mark Linkous wasn’t born to be a coal miner.

Determined to keep out of the Virginia mines that consumed his family in the 1960s, he turned to music.

He became a rock star, moved to North Carolina, and on March 6, took his own life.

CNN. The New York Times. Rolling Stone. The Washington Post. The news of his death… shocking.

“Shot himself. With a rifle. In the heart. Knoxville, Tennessee.”

An anomaly among rock stars. Popular, famous, but living shy and secluded in a small mountain town no one’s ever heard of: Hayesville.

The leader of an alternative rock band called Sparklehorse, he operated a secret recording studio in the heart of Andrews, and called it “Static King.”

The elusive musician

“He was extremely shy, painfully so,” recalled Angela Faye Martin, who worked with Linkous on the last album he produced prior to his death. He avoided parties and never wanted to be around more than four people at a time, she said.

The two met in February 2008 when Martin, a Franklin-based singer and songwriter, traveled to Andrews to seek his expertise recording two demo tracks.

The only problem, Martin said, was that no one seemed to know who Linkous was, let alone where his studio was located.

Local record store owner Dean Williams was the only one who said he knew the elusive musician, but he wouldn’t reveal the spot of the studio.

Williams said he wouldn’t even tell his friends when Linkous was in town after a tour. The few people who knew the whereabouts of the artist’s lair kept the secret out of respect, he said.

But the studio was never far from sight. Linkous rented a building across the street from the record store, Williams said.

The record master described Linkous as “a close distant friend.”

It seemed as if Linkous “turned on a switch” when performing for a live audience, he said, but when the musician came off stage “he was a very private person, more private than any person I’ve ever met.”

“Even talking with Mark was like feeding berries to a deer,” he said. “There was something very fragile about his personality.”

The studio album

After listening to some of her songs, Linkous was persuaded to produce two demo tracks for Martin’s album.

“We spent lots of long hours together at that studio,” she said. “Everything in his studio was old. If he had to have a new component he would deface it in some way.”

At times production had to be stopped for up to three hours at a time just so Linkous could fix his vintage equipment, she said.

“He was extremely Appalachian in his approach to everything he did,” Martin recalled. “We’re so lucky that he lived in these mountains as long as he did.”

Despite a studio filled with “freaky organs,” and a collection of old motorcycles, Linkous didn’t fulfill the “slob stereotype” of most rock stars, Martin said.

“He was the most organized person I’ve ever come across in music. And I’ve been doing music for a long time,” she said. “I’m probably a better housekeeper because of him.”

After executives turned her music down, blaming the economy, Linkous decided to produce Martin’s 10-song album himself, beginning in January 2009.

“He was at a point where he needed to help somebody,” Martin said. “He did it – by industry standards – for the tiniest little bit of money.”

When Linkous worked on a project, it completely captivated his attention, Martin recalled.

“He was incredibly diligent; he would rarely even pick up a ringing phone when you were working with him.”

At times Linkous would work for 12 hours at a time without eating or drinking, Williams said.

“Compared to his peers, he lived without a lot,” Martin said. “He was comfortable in his southerness.”

In September 2009, the album, “Pictures from Home,” was completed.

Light in his music

In Williams’ words, the music Linkous created was simply “undescribable,” almost incomparable to any other artist.

“There was light in his music; there was a lot of sadness but you could tell there was a joy in the midst of the sadness,” Williams said.

He had a soft-spoken vocal style almost like whispering, Williams described. “He put his heart into every piece of music that he made.”

Linkous was a “brilliant engineer, able to create surreal atmospheres,” Martin said, adding that he’ll long be remembered as a talented songwriter.

“There’s a lot of beauty and a lot of hope in his songs,” she said.

At times his music boasted strange rhythms and rock and roll themes, but most of it expressed his love for the natural, Martin said.

“He was trying to extract the inner thoughts of these mountains,” she said. “And he loved these mountains so much… This was a good place for him to be because he really, really needed quiet.”

A man of few words, Linkous expressed himself instead through a menagerie of instruments.

“He could play anything,” Martin said. “It was a pretty special chapter of my life getting to work with Mark.”

Linkous was also known for his avid reading. Edwin Arnaudin, a librarian at the Andrews Public Library, said he began listening to Linkous’ albums after he met the musician.

“It takes some getting used to,” he said. “It’s like a challenging novel – it takes a few times, but it’s worth the effort.”

Fighting depression

“Mark struggled acutely with depression,” Martin said. “We didn’t talk about it much, but you knew it… He was constantly seeking positives, ways to deal with it.”

But on December 25, 2009 Linkous’ friend and fellow musician, Vic Chesnutt, died from an apparent overdose in Athens, Georgia. Linkous grieved the loss until his own suicide just two months later, Martin said.

“He wasn’t able to be social and share himself with the people of the mountains,” she said. “These mountains were lonely for him, but only because of his lonely nature.”

Nevertheless, Linkous found joy in the company of misfits, elderly, animals and children.

“I know that he was definitely troubled for many years, but he put that aside when you spoke with him,” Arnaudin said. “You could tell there was kind of a shadow around him, but if you could penetrate the shyness a little bit then he was very friendly.”

Martin said Linkous knew she and her husband were avid fans.

“Mark tolerated a lot of fan-like behavior from us,” she said, adding that Linkous’ life was proof that it’s possible to live in the mountains and still make a difference.

She said the economic downturn has made it “a very rotten time for creative people.”

“Mark didn’t make a lot of money at all,” she said. “Nobody’s buying music, particularly music that’s under the radar.”

Williams said he too was aware of Linkous’ battle with depression:

“I don’t want to say it’s necessary to make great music, but…most of my favorite songwriters have struggled with depression.”

Bad news

Returning from a ten-mile hiking trip, Martin checked her cellular phone on Sunday evening to find a message she didn’t believe was true.

Once she arrived home, however, the Internet was all it took to confirm her friend’s death. And as articles began appearing, there was no other option but to believe the unbelievable.

“Mark didn’t always take the best care of himself, but he didn’t seem like he was going anywhere anytime soon,” she said. “I always figured he would die decades later from some cigarette-related illness and I would have been at his bedside telling him he shouldn’t have smoked. That’s how I imagined it…”

Linkous had just signed a new record deal, Martin said. While she was recording with him he talked about plans to move his studio to Knoxville.

Local musician Rob Tiger said Linkous occasionally stopped by his store in downtown Hayesville, most recently in January. At the time he was speaking with the owner of a California record company.

“It seems like it was yesterday,” Tiger said. “He would come in and have a cup of coffee; he was never really forthcoming about what he was doing.”

Linkous never discussed Sparklehorse or even music in general, Tiger said.

Mary Fonda, a librarian at Hayesville’s Moss Memorial Library, described Linkous as a modest fellow. She said no one knew a rock star of his caliber lived in the area until he was asked about his job while at the library one day.

“He rubbed shoulders with a lot of heavy hitters in the music industry,” Tiger said. “Mark had a major label contract but those usually aren’t that lucrative.”

Martin said she hoped that Linkous’ final project, which he had just finished recording, would eventually be made available.

“The release of his album will be a very healing thing,” she said. “I heard a song from it and it was just fantastic.”

Williams said he was shocked by the news of Linkous’ death on Sunday after watching the musician move out of his studio on Friday.

“He just waved at me that day, and there was something very calm about the way he waved.”

An under-appreciated artist

“The first time I met him I didn’t know who he was,” Arnaudin recalled. “I think he liked that he could talk casually with me without having to deal with the whole celebrity factor. The second time I met him I had heart palpitations when he was around because I knew who he was at that point, but I tried to keep it cool because I knew he would run away if I wasn’t.”

Arnaudin and Williams both called Linkous a literature buff, noting that fans would sometimes lay books on the stage for him when he performed. Often, when he returned home from tours, he had a box of all the books fans had given to him.

Although he carried Linkous’ music in his record shop, Williams said that the only times customers would purchase his albums was when the music was playing on the store’s audio system.

“Most of my customers have never heard of Sparklehorse;…he was very unappreciated while he was alive,” Williams said. “He was a lot better known in Europe.”

One day, while selling buttons at the record shop, Williams said he noticed one that read “Famous in Europe.” He saved it and gave it to Linkous. The musician replied that he would wear it with pride.

“I think, tragically, now that he’s passed away he’ll be even more famous than when he was living,” Arnaudin said. “It wasn’t like having Bruce Springsteen walk around; it was the exact opposite.”

At times hardcore fans of Sparklehorse would find Linkous’ hometown on the Internet and come searching for him, Arnaudin said, even though the musician didn’t like to talk about his own work.

“I’ve always felt that if he had a way to make a living by recording albums and just putting the records on his shelf without releasing them, he would have still put just as much time into them,” Williams stated.

Martin said she believed the irony in Linkous’ life was that despite his aversion to digging deep in the hills of Virginia, the elusive musician still dug deep into the mountain culture around him.

“He was the first in his family to escape mining as an occupation,” she said. “But he didn’t really. His studio was a cave, and though the cave was toxic for him, he was mining the essence of these places. He brought out these gems for all of us to see and hear.”