August 13, 1994
JEFF BUCKLEY
JEFF BUCKLEY
Grace (Columbia/All formats)
FEW FLY so close to the sun as Jeff Buckley. He howls and hums and croons and screams, twisting round and round like a vocal stunt pilot. He packs his album with strumming, crashing and soaring guitars, string sections, harmoniums, tablas and anything else that comes to hand. He takes more wild, foolhardy risks in the space of one single song than most allegedly brave artists dare in a career.
And the good news is, he gets away with every one of them. the ambition of "Grace" is staggering. On the final trio of songs Buckley leaps from immaculate choir-boy quiver, to ferocious Led Zep raunch, to haunted, strafed Cocteau-isms with such nerveless gall you're left: a) believing everyone should stretch themselves this far; and b) panting, emotionally battered and totally dazzled.
Make no mistake, he's the kind of irresistible star who doesn't come along too often. Just check the credentials: a remarkable, wide-ranging voice and musical brief; the looks of a particularly sensitive male model; a fierce, full-on and far-out charisma; and a dead cult hero-'70s folk-jazz troubadour Tim Buckley-for a father.
Like other sons of the famous-Julian Lennon, Ziggy Marley-Jeff often sounds like his father, as he swoops through the octaves and bends every syllable into a new, bigger and weirder shape. But you get the impression it's a hereditary thing, rather than an artistic one, so that, unlike those others, he has his own radically different musical agenda. A quick list of influences on "Grace" goes; Led Zeppelin (the strongest, probably), Van Morrison, The Smiths, The Cocteau Twins and Shudder To Think. Add cover versions of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah", the "Lilac Wine made famous by Elkie Brooks (lilting, improbably lovely) and, bizarrely, Benjamin Britten's "Corpus Christi Carol" and you've some idea some of the eclectic ground Buckley covers with the with scant regard for fashion of logic.
The only problem with the covers, in fact, is that you want more of his own, starting on "Grace". Songs like the slow-burning, soulful "Lover, You Should've Come Over", a vivid catalogue of male misery, or like the circling smoky Plant-isms of "Mojo Pin". And like the spooked, heartbreaking paean to the father he spent a mere handful of days with, "Dream Brother".
When, a minute or so later, "Grace" ends, you wonder if perhaps Jeff Buckley will heed his own advice. Just for once, the child of a star looks capable of transcending the family legacy. From here on in, the sky's the limit. (9)
FEW FLY so close to the sun as Jeff Buckley. He howls and hums and croons and screams, twisting round and round like a vocal stunt pilot. He packs his album with strumming, crashing and soaring guitars, string sections, harmoniums, tablas and anything else that comes to hand. He takes more wild, foolhardy risks in the space of one single song than most allegedly brave artists dare in a career.
And the good news is, he gets away with every one of them. the ambition of "Grace" is staggering. On the final trio of songs Buckley leaps from immaculate choir-boy quiver, to ferocious Led Zep raunch, to haunted, strafed Cocteau-isms with such nerveless gall you're left: a) believing everyone should stretch themselves this far; and b) panting, emotionally battered and totally dazzled.
Make no mistake, he's the kind of irresistible star who doesn't come along too often. Just check the credentials: a remarkable, wide-ranging voice and musical brief; the looks of a particularly sensitive male model; a fierce, full-on and far-out charisma; and a dead cult hero-'70s folk-jazz troubadour Tim Buckley-for a father.
Like other sons of the famous-Julian Lennon, Ziggy Marley-Jeff often sounds like his father, as he swoops through the octaves and bends every syllable into a new, bigger and weirder shape. But you get the impression it's a hereditary thing, rather than an artistic one, so that, unlike those others, he has his own radically different musical agenda. A quick list of influences on "Grace" goes; Led Zeppelin (the strongest, probably), Van Morrison, The Smiths, The Cocteau Twins and Shudder To Think. Add cover versions of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah", the "Lilac Wine made famous by Elkie Brooks (lilting, improbably lovely) and, bizarrely, Benjamin Britten's "Corpus Christi Carol" and you've some idea some of the eclectic ground Buckley covers with the with scant regard for fashion of logic.
The only problem with the covers, in fact, is that you want more of his own, starting on "Grace". Songs like the slow-burning, soulful "Lover, You Should've Come Over", a vivid catalogue of male misery, or like the circling smoky Plant-isms of "Mojo Pin". And like the spooked, heartbreaking paean to the father he spent a mere handful of days with, "Dream Brother".
When, a minute or so later, "Grace" ends, you wonder if perhaps Jeff Buckley will heed his own advice. Just for once, the child of a star looks capable of transcending the family legacy. From here on in, the sky's the limit. (9)
John Mulvey
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