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Thursday, December 14, 2017

Trocadero Review

B-Side magazine, Sept/Oct '95
Jeff Buckley

The Trocadero
Philadelphia, PA
by Sandra Garcia

  "Jeff should be headlining." "Jeff should be touring on his own." "What's he doing opening for her?" "I saw Jeff the last two times he played." "I think I'll stay for a few of Juliana Hatfield's songs." "When's he gonna come out with a new album?" 
  These were some of the comments overheard in the long snaking line that wrapped about the theater where Jeff Buckley would soon open for Juliana Hatfield. I felt very sorry for Juliana Hatfield for two reasons: one: it sounded like she would be losing half of the audience three songs into her set and two: would you want to be opening up for someone with the undeniable naturally flawless talent of Jeff Buckley? Hell no.
  The fairly orderly, slightly older audience jammed the upstairs drinking section, many unable to see a thing due to the crush. It was their loss: the all ages section downstairs proved to be perfectly safe. You could stand and live. No moshing, no body surfing... How nice to stand close to an act without being kicked in the head. How delightful. How novel! The women in the audience were there to check Jeff out for more than his songwriting skills, judging from their swooning reaction to him when he finally brought his slim form on-stage. The guys were there to check out if his band could sound half as fine as they did on record. Jeff's low-key demeanor fit the respectful crowd until he whisked into his first song.
  That low-key demeanor facade evaporated in record time.
  On his album Grace Jeff reaches moments of mayhem, of passion, of annoying yodeling. At times too precious and too clean, Grace doesn't begin to match how this man burns on-stage. No way. On-stage he tossed away everything except the bleeding passion. Focused and fiery, Jeff exuded an eerie stillness at his center: the cliche eye of the storm came to mind many a time. He stood very still except for his hands working his guitar, but everything poured forth from his throat: the three L's: longing, lust and love saturated the air with a heady presence. The receptive in the audience began to sway and quiver, but the yuppies who were only familiar with Jeff from the local AAA station were astounded by his fiery delivery. They admired him but only clapped politely, except when he offered them the wistful minor chord single 'Last Goodbye.' Then they danced the dance of those who don't get out much: I swear Jeff started smiling at this. He totally baffled them with 'Eternal Life''s guitar brutality (where he reminds me so much of James Hall I can't believe it...) and when Jeff lashed out with the pure authentic wail of 'So Real', I realized I had been selling this man short. Yes, I recognized his talent on album but never realized what he could truly do with it. What a magnificent weapon. Can you say converted?
  His band, comprised of guitarist Michael Tighe, bassist Mick Grondahl and drummer Matt Johnson, complimented Jeff's tremendous skill with their own, not letting him steal all the grace.
  Jeff's subtle banter poked fun at himself: when he undid his shirt due to the mounting heat factor he ruefully jested he needed to do sit-ups. Judging from the reaction of one woman next to me I think she'd like to hold his ankles.
  My triple AAA station would stand for Astounding, Audacious and Amazing. Jeff Buckley fits into this category with a few dozen adjectives trailing behind.
  After his next album he won't be opening for anyone anymore.

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