Photo by Conor Bezane
Humble emotions of joy and grief ebb and flow in the music of Frightened Rabbit, a band from small-town Scotland who lost its lead singer, 36-year-old Scott Hutchison, to apparent suicide last Thursday.
Scott Hutchison was Frightened Rabbit. He was the kind of performer who glowed as he played. And it wasn’t just under the house lights.
Gazing at Hutchison onstage, you would never know he was suffering from depression. The smile on his face as he strummed his acoustic guitar on tunes like “Swim Until You Can’t See Land,” swaying back and forth, was almighty. In fact, the stage was his happy place.
Hutchison’s body was found this past Thursday in Edinburgh, in the Port Edgar Marina between the Forth Road Bridge and Queensferry Crossing.
A couple of enigmatic tweets signaled that the Frightened Rabbit singer might have been in distress.
Then another tweet read:
And that was the last we heard from him.
Brother and drummer Grant Hutchison had this to say on Twitter in the wake of those two tweets: “We are worried about Scott, who has been missing for a little while now. He may be in a fragile state and may not be making the best decisions for himself right now.”
Indeed Scott was in a fragile state. He was coming from the same place as his suicidal song “Floating in the Forth,” which appeared on 2008’s new classic The Midnight Organ Fight:
With the strobe of the sun
And the life I’ve led
Is there peace beneath
The roar of the Forth Road Bridge?
…
I think I’ll save suicide for another year
After Hutchison utters that suicidal lyric, the song erupts in a storm of choral vocals and then fades to black in a flurry of pleasantly fingerpicked melody.
Hutchison’s body was found floating not far from that bridge two days after he was reported missing.
In a statement, Hutchison’s family wrote:
Depression is a horrendous illness that does not give you any alert or indication as to when it will take hold of you. Scott battled bravely with his own issues for many years and we are immensely proud of him for being so open with his struggles.
…
We are utterly devastated with the tragic loss of our beloved Scott. Despite his disappearance, and the recent concerns over his mental health, we had all remained positive and hopeful that he would walk back through the door, having taken some time away to compose himself.
A purveyor of originality, Hutchison was a sensitive soul who gave his all, bleeding compassion onto wax. In fact the name of the band comes from a nickname Hutchison’s mother gave him when he was just a shy little kid.
As a lyricist, Hutchison ripped off the scab, inviting us all into his chamber of gloom. It was a little night music that sounded uplifting but really wasn’t when you examined the lyrics.
His words were profound, like those in “Songs About Roses” from his 2014 solo album:
Chloroform the singer who has nothing to say
Stare in wonder as the masses sing along anyway
He was putting down the mediocre pop music that was the antithesis of the truly inspired music he performed.
I’ve seen Frightened Rabbit three times — twice at Lollapalooza and once at the Riviera in Chicago — and all three times I was moved by Hutchison’s energy. The photos I’m showcasing here are ones that I took on that stop on the Pedestrian Verse tour in March 2013.
Photo by Conor Bezane
Seeing Frightened Rabbit live made me feel a human connection. And Hutchison was one of the indie-folk greats of our generation, on par with his peers John Darnielle of The Mountain Goats, Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes, and Sufjan Stevens, all three among my favorite music of the past two decades.
Usually wielding an electric guitar, Hutchison strummed with the poise of his neighbor to the south Englishman Billy Bragg. Fingerpicking his trusty acoustic — he channeled ‘70s folk superhero Nick Drake, who penned the then-barely-known, now-iconic track “Pink Moon.”
Now, in the wake of his brother’s death, Grant Hutchinson is advocating for mental health.
Frightened Rabbit leaves behind five great albums. A sixth was in the works.
If you are having suicidal thoughts or need help, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at (800) 273-TALK.
R.I.P. Scott Hutchison — 1981-2018
Enjoy a taste of Scott Hutchison’s music below. By all appearances, he was happy, he had an endearing smile, and he liked to joke onstage.
