Todd Snider, a singer and songwriter beloved in the Americana music scene for his funny yet empathetic portraits of people struggling to survive an uncaring world, died Friday. He was 59.
His death was announced in a post on his Instagram account, which didn’t state a cause or say where he died. An earlier post signed by “Todd’s Friends & Family” said that he’d been admitted to a hospital in Hendersonville, Tenn., after experiencing breathing problems and that he’d been diagnosed with pneumonia; before that, he called off a tour this month after telling fans that he’d been injured in a “violent assault” outside a hotel in Salt Lake City.
Frequently compared to the likes of John Prine and Kris Kristofferson — both of whom mentored him at various points — Snider wrote about “how poor people sometimes cope with pain and hardship,” he told the New York Times in 2009. “A little drugs here, a little sex here, a little denial there.”
In a prolific recording career that stretched over three decades, Snider made albums for labels owned by Prine and by Jimmy Buffett and for his own company, Aimless Records. Yet to many he was best experienced onstage, where he’d thread his songs into a kind of running monologue about his rough-and-tumble life.
Among his best-known tunes were the rollicking “Beer Run”; “Can’t Complain,” about a guy with “nothing to lose ’cause there is nothing to gain”; and “Alright Guy,” which opens with a scene in which a friend catches him leafing through “that new book with pictures of Madonna naked.”
“Said she’d never pegged me for a scumbag before,” he sings, “She said she didn’t ever want to see me anymore / And I still don’t know why.”
In his 2014 memoir, Snider told a shaggy-dog story about the time Garth Brooks summoned him to a studio to help him record a cover of “Alright Guy” in the guise of his alter ego, Chris Gaines.
“I was already starstruck before Garth walked up and introduced himself,” Snider wrote. “He said, ‘I thought you had red hair,’ because he’d seen me on the ‘Austin City Limits’ television show, and I’d dyed my hair red for that show. It wasn’t supposed to be red. It was supposed to be dark brown. My plan was to look like John Fogerty, but instead I ended up looking like the guy from the movie ‘Dumb and Dumber.’” (Brooks didn’t release the cover, though Snider said the country superstar sent him a check for $10,000 anyway.)
Todd Daniel Snider was born Oct. 11, 1966, and grew up in Oregon before making his way to Texas and then Nashville. His debut album, “Songs for the Daily Planet,” came out in 1994 via Buffett’s Margaritaville label; it closed with a motor-mouthed acoustic ditty called “Talkin’ Seattle Grunge Rock Blues” in which he lovingly lampooned the era’s alternative rock boom:
Now, to fit in fast, we wear flannel shirts
We turn our amps up until it hurts
We got bad attitudes, and what’s more
When we play, we stare straight down at the floor
A critics’ fave from the get-go, Snider earned rave reviews with 2004’s “East Nashville Skyline,” whose highlights include a characteristically wordy depiction of the culture wars then roiling America in the wake of 9/11 — “Conservative, Christian, Right Wing Republican, Straight, White, American Males,” it’s called — and “The Ballad of the Kingsmen,” in which he contemplates the meaning of the lyrics to “Louie Louie.”
Among the many other LPs he went on to release were 2009’s “The Excitement Plan,” which was produced by Don Was, and a 2012 collection of songs by Jerry Jeff Walker, the country-folk songwriter who’d served as a crucial influence on him. Snider’s most recent record, “High, Lonesome and Then Some,” came out in October.
Snider spoke openly throughout his life about his struggles with drugs and with chronic pain related to spinal stenosis. “I do a lot of things to try to help it, but I have to make peace with it, too,” he said of the condition in an interview last month with Rolling Stone. “Which hasn’t been easy.” Information about Snider’s survivors wasn’t immediately available.
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