CMJ New Music Report, September 12 1994
by Steve Ciabattoni
Contributed by Sai
Even before the first question is asked, Jeff Buckley has something to say: "I just
received the most amazing birthday invitation. It's black cardboard, and you
open it up and it's all these stars. It's all in silver and all these stars are falling
down on the Tin Man, who has both of his hands over his heart and staring up at
the stars. It's very beautiful."
This is what it's like to talk to Jeff Buckley. He thrives on intimacy and treasures
his friends, greeting them all with long, generous hugs and kisses on the cheek.
He is soft-spoken, his tone floating between reticence and smoky sex appeal. His
singing voice (captured on his Columbia debut Grace) shows much greater range,
wavering between unparalleled brilliance and artistic indulgence. At a recent
New York show, Buckley prefaced several of his already loose songs with
lengthly vocal flights of fancy. The occasionally tedious intros were erased by the
moments when he was undeniably "on". Lyrics that initially seemed nonsensical
("Your love is like chocolate melting on the tongue of God") became mesmirizing
mantras, truths, elixirs, revelations. Poetry.
There is much talk of Buckley's touchstones, most notably two other inspired
singers, his father (the late Tim Buckley) and Van Morrison. Buckley puts the
issue into perspective: "You can't have a good song influenced into you. You have
to imbue it with some sort of soul. You. And that takes a real jettison, and a real
acceptance of yourself." Even when Buckley performs a cover version by an idol,
he notes their songs are merely starting points. "My covers are symbols. They
represent people I've loved or houses I've lived in. I mean, if I really wanted to
pay tribute to Van Morrison, I would have done 'Sweet Thing,'" he says,
afterward revealing that his extended take on Morrison's "The Way Young
Lovers Do" was actually about something shared between he and a close friend
and not simply an homage to Morrison.
His own songs and his interplay with his band rely heavily on similar intimacies
and issues of passion, trust and sorrow. "'Dream Brother' is a song about a friend
who I thought was fucking up and I was scared because I loved him so much."
Whatever the theme, his work is something always very personal. "I get in little
funks about myself. I'm really self-depricating and that will lead you into very,
low, low, deep depths of creation...But it's a well that I tap very well."
Aside from the obvious musical influences, Buckley is also moved by two less
obvious legends: Duke Ellington and qawwali master Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan.
"[Ellington] is a very rare talent that comes from joy...I want to be like that, him
AND Nusrat." So, does he even have Nusrat's cheesy, near-disco cassettes? "Yeah,
are you kidding? I've used them to threaten young children with. I've got
everything. I have no food in my house, but $600 worth of Nusrat...You know, he
shouldn't be playing in classical theaters. He should play in places where people
can show their appreciation, because that's where qawwali lives. You're
supposed to shout his name and throw love notes...everybody's supposed to lose
their minds."
Through his songs and voice, Buckley aspires to a similar level of transcendence.
He likens it to how a Baptist preacher in a big auditorium gets the congregation
to believe in him. "HE [the preacher] is so seductive and HE is so attractive and
HE uses the repetition and HE gets the Bible text down, and after a while his
voice is so mesmirizing. You will DO what he says, you will DANCE when he
dances. He loves you. There is nothing to fear. You trust him, and all of this is
going higher and higher and when he says love over and over again, and Jesus,
Jesus, Jesus..."
So effective was Buckley's pacing, so mesmerizing was his delivery, that halfway
through his "sermon," no one noticed the interview tape had run out.
by Steve Ciabattoni
Contributed by Sai
Even before the first question is asked, Jeff Buckley has something to say: "I just
received the most amazing birthday invitation. It's black cardboard, and you
open it up and it's all these stars. It's all in silver and all these stars are falling
down on the Tin Man, who has both of his hands over his heart and staring up at
the stars. It's very beautiful."
This is what it's like to talk to Jeff Buckley. He thrives on intimacy and treasures
his friends, greeting them all with long, generous hugs and kisses on the cheek.
He is soft-spoken, his tone floating between reticence and smoky sex appeal. His
singing voice (captured on his Columbia debut Grace) shows much greater range,
wavering between unparalleled brilliance and artistic indulgence. At a recent
New York show, Buckley prefaced several of his already loose songs with
lengthly vocal flights of fancy. The occasionally tedious intros were erased by the
moments when he was undeniably "on". Lyrics that initially seemed nonsensical
("Your love is like chocolate melting on the tongue of God") became mesmirizing
mantras, truths, elixirs, revelations. Poetry.
There is much talk of Buckley's touchstones, most notably two other inspired
singers, his father (the late Tim Buckley) and Van Morrison. Buckley puts the
issue into perspective: "You can't have a good song influenced into you. You have
to imbue it with some sort of soul. You. And that takes a real jettison, and a real
acceptance of yourself." Even when Buckley performs a cover version by an idol,
he notes their songs are merely starting points. "My covers are symbols. They
represent people I've loved or houses I've lived in. I mean, if I really wanted to
pay tribute to Van Morrison, I would have done 'Sweet Thing,'" he says,
afterward revealing that his extended take on Morrison's "The Way Young
Lovers Do" was actually about something shared between he and a close friend
and not simply an homage to Morrison.
His own songs and his interplay with his band rely heavily on similar intimacies
and issues of passion, trust and sorrow. "'Dream Brother' is a song about a friend
who I thought was fucking up and I was scared because I loved him so much."
Whatever the theme, his work is something always very personal. "I get in little
funks about myself. I'm really self-depricating and that will lead you into very,
low, low, deep depths of creation...But it's a well that I tap very well."
Aside from the obvious musical influences, Buckley is also moved by two less
obvious legends: Duke Ellington and qawwali master Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan.
"[Ellington] is a very rare talent that comes from joy...I want to be like that, him
AND Nusrat." So, does he even have Nusrat's cheesy, near-disco cassettes? "Yeah,
are you kidding? I've used them to threaten young children with. I've got
everything. I have no food in my house, but $600 worth of Nusrat...You know, he
shouldn't be playing in classical theaters. He should play in places where people
can show their appreciation, because that's where qawwali lives. You're
supposed to shout his name and throw love notes...everybody's supposed to lose
their minds."
Through his songs and voice, Buckley aspires to a similar level of transcendence.
He likens it to how a Baptist preacher in a big auditorium gets the congregation
to believe in him. "HE [the preacher] is so seductive and HE is so attractive and
HE uses the repetition and HE gets the Bible text down, and after a while his
voice is so mesmirizing. You will DO what he says, you will DANCE when he
dances. He loves you. There is nothing to fear. You trust him, and all of this is
going higher and higher and when he says love over and over again, and Jesus,
Jesus, Jesus..."
So effective was Buckley's pacing, so mesmerizing was his delivery, that halfway
through his "sermon," no one noticed the interview tape had run out.
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