His career spanned two decades and included collaborations with some of today’s most cherished musicians, indie and mainstream alike. Vic Chesnutt died on Christmas Day after rumors of his death spread across the blogosphere and Twitter. He was 45. According to the New York Times art blog, Chesnutt was in a coma after overdosing on muscle relaxants and succumbed to the event Friday evening.

Chesnutt had been in a wheelchair since the age of 18, when he was injured in a car accident.

Many considered 2009 a phenomenal and creative year for Chesnutt, who released two albums this year. At The Cut featured collaborations with members of Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and Skitter On Take-Off was a minimal folk release with bouts of sheer brilliance. Musicians and music fans alike have been devastated by the loss of one of the world’s most stunning musicians.

Lucas of Venice Is Sinking wrote “RIP Vic. My best to his family and friends. Just gutted by this.”

Kasey Anderson added: “We lost one of the great ones last night.”

Twitter was abuzz with the news, and I reflected through one of the most vicarious means possible. I think those of us who were moved by his music can all agree with @Ralph85: “Because of [his] music, it’s like you lost someone you know.” A fund has been set up to help Vic’s family with expenses. You can visit and donate here. Kristin Hersh’s letter will bring tears to your eyes.

Rest in peace Chesnutt. Hopefully now you can be free.

Sad news was released last Friday, as the independent music world lost an amazing talent, and the world lost an amazing individual. Jeff Hanson was found dead in his new apartment; preliminary reports are calling it an accidental fall. I met Jeff a few years back when he performed at a small art gallery in Moscow, ID. Everyone always talks about how his voice was like no other, but for me it was that coupled with the passion in which he relayed his songs to his audience.

Jeff Hanson’s Madame Owl was released last year by Kill Rock Stars. The label also released his first two records, Jeff Hanson and Son.

Those early releases followed me throughout graduate school; the perfect accompaniment to long drives between Seattle and my college town of Pullman, WA. Songs like “Hiding Behind The Moon” and “If You Ever Say” would blast from the speakers of my ’92 Buick Century as I floated along the rocky desert lands of the Cascade River Basin and by the rolling wheat fields of the Palouse.

All music is experiential. We associate words and events with certain songs as often as we relate similar events to our emotive state at the time they occurred. That’s what I remember about Jeff Hanson — the drives and that dark art gallery in Moscow where he performed his heart out, leaving the Idaho town with a new devoted fan. Me. Jeff Hanson, I know I’m not alone in saying this: You will be missed.

Jeff Hanson: Hiding Behind The Moon [mp3]