Palais Theatre

On this day in 1996, Jeff played this blistering show at the Palais Theatre ink Melbourne, Australia. Here they all are together and in order...enjoy! (website)

1. Moodswing Whiskey

2. Mojo Pin

3. I Woke Up In A Strange Place

4. Lilac Wine

5. Eternal Life

6. Grace

7. Hallelujah

8. Kanga-Roo

He Wants To Freak You

Dallas Observer, November 24, 1994
By Robert Wilonsky

It is hard to keep Jeff Buckley on one subject for very long. He doesn't dodge questions, but being on the road for the past five months--performing, doing interviews, dealing with record company business--has kept him from his primary love of songwriting.

Buckley is dead serious, reflective, and careful when discussing his music, but he's trying to keep a thousand things straight in a cluttered mind he hasn't had time to empty. So he's given to wandering off in mid-conversation, telling one very long story about how Sony's Japanese executives gave him shiatsu massage to cure a hand he jammed when his tour bus came to a sudden stop.

"They all converged on me like all these dogs cleaning this one dog," he says. "And they fuckin' healed my right hand."

Such attention from record company executives is not at all foreign to the 26-year-old. Two years ago, Buckley was an unknown performer every music-business type in the world badly wanted to take home and mount over the fireplace. Buckley's solo performances at the Sin- or the Fez in Manhattan drew dozens of major label reps, each hoping that Buckley--a kid who sings like Robert Plant and adores Edith Piaf, and whose father was once an idol to thousands of depressives--would sign with them.

Buckley held them off for a long time, and in 1992 eventually went with Sony-Columbia because of an A&R man who shared his passion for music and would allow Buckley absolute freedom.

The result of that freedom is Grace, which is either one of the most overwrought debut records ever released or one of the most ambitious. It's a folk-rock-jazz album filtered through Physical Graffiti and Songs of Leonard Cohen, sung by a young man who often sounds like an old woman. Buckley plays guitar, harmonium, organ, dulcimer, and tablas on a record that's further fleshed out by vibes and lush, out-of-nowhere string arrangements.

The search for a record label that could understand such a dense, complex album proved a bizarre odyssey. Music executives tried to pigeonhole Buckley as: a brooding young folkie; a sensitive jazzbo singer-songwriter; a soul artist; the indecipherable Michael Stipe-type; or an arena-rocker who merged Robert Plant and Bono.

It wasn't easy for a young man still finding his own voice to have so many men in suits trying to define it for him. At the very least it made him suspicious; at most, it nearly scared him off.

Jeff's suspicions were not unwarranted. As son of '60s icon Tim Buckley, who committed suicide while in his late 20s after unsuccessful bouts with fame and depression, he didn't want to be known simply as the son of a man he did not know. (Jeff's mother and Tim were married only briefly in the late '60s, and there are, in fact, no references to Tim in Jeff's record-company bio. He is also said to be quite unhappy with a recent Rolling Stone feature that focused almost entirely on the similarities.)

"It's precisely because of knowing about the laughable disasters of the music business that I was determined to find something that worked," Buckley says of his decision to sign with Sony. "All music industry places are the same, really. They have the same dynamics and the same concerns and the same needs. But the chemistry is rare, and that's usually what I go on. I'm totally emotional when I make my decisions like that, because I have no idea how it will work out. I'm very paranoid.

"I am very observant of people's character. [Choosing a record company] is like getting a sixth member of your band. This is really close to my blood, and I couldn't sabotage myself with other people. It'd be like using your friend's arm to stuff a knife in your throat."

Grace is the most difficult sort of record to describe. Buckley doesn't so much sing songs as transform them, drawing out a single syllable till it becomes a long, breathy note, floating beside wandering guitar licks that twist and turn in on themselves.

Sometimes, such as on the exception-to-the-rule rocker "Eternal Life," he sounds very much like a conventional singer with exceptional range. But more often than not, on a song like "Corpus Christi Carol," he sounds nearly angelic, his voice so ethereal and frail and feminine.

And the songs are so nonlinear they almost never touch the same point twice. Buckley seems to have dispensed entirely with the verse-chorus-verse concept. Yet this isn't jazz noodling or improvisation for its own sake; rather, Buckley is following a song instead of trying to lead it.

"I do like structure, and I'd love to be better at it," Buckley says. "It's not that I do away with it, but there's just so many other structures. A song just doesn't have verse-chorus-verse. It could just be one line. There are Chinese love songs that you have to learn one melody for a three-minute thing and nothing ever repeats. I like that.

"But 'So Real' has an insistence, and 'Eternal Life' is probably the most conventional form. There's a sort of collective consciousness that has heard these forms over and over again, and they've heard them done well. They've heard 'Johnny B. Goode' and everything from Son House to the Cramps, and we all know this. People remember forms and everything, and I don't need to do them again. I'd rather just do something I've never heard before."

If anything, Grace comes off as an experiment in sound and language, as though Buckley were trying to find that place where they join and become inseparable.

The lyrics of a song like "So Real" ("We walked around till the moon got full like a plate, and the wind blew an invocation and I fell asleep at the gate") mean nothing (and are perhaps a bit laughable) when seen out of context. But when heard through Buckley's impossibly high voice, when heard over this dramatic and sparse music that seethes and shifts and abruptly erupts for just a second, they seem like the wisest words ever written.

Buckley is not a poet in the strictest definition of the word, no more than Bob Dylan was a poet. They are, however, extraordinary musicians, songpoets who create words to be accompanied by music that accentuates the lyrics, that heightens the impact of an image ("Broken down and hungry for your love with no way to feed it") or underscores the emotion contained within a simple word like "love." Grace is a haunting record in that respect--dark and tortured, difficult to listen to all the way through without coming away feeling there's no hope left in the world.

"Music is that world that I feel makes sense because it does transcend trend, the troubles of convention, the errors of convention," Buckley says. "It also aligns with the things that always will be, which is good and fortifying. Everything I am is reflected in music. But the problem is that it does transcend and does bring you into these fuckin' areas that are so ugly and black and chaotic and cancerous that you don't want to look at them. But you have to anyway--either through you or through other people."

Near the end of the interview, Buckley recounts a story from his childhood, using it to explain his music. When he was a kid living in California, he knew an elderly couple: he was a bitter wheelchair-bound World War II veteran; she was a mean-tempered woman given to erratic bouts of screaming. Every day, Buckley would go to their house, wheel the man outside, help him out of his chair, and let the "crabby old soldier" hold on to Buckley's shoulder as they walked around his yard. It was during the World Series, Buckley recalls, and they'd often talk about the Pittsburgh Pirates' chances against the Oakland A's. For his trouble, Buckley would get two dollars a day.

"I was trying to describe this to someone about feelings that have no names, sensations people feel all the time," Buckley says. "I said to him, 'Do you know that feeling that you feel when you know somebody who's going to die or who's terribly sick and you feel like your thighs are tingling, like, that death tingle and that uncomfortable feeling you'd get in your stomach?' The things we're talking about simply have no language to speak of...

"But I like literal stuff, too. I wanna freak you. I love those fuckin' R&B guys, those really literal, 'Girl, take your clothes off but leave your shoes on, I'm gonna freak you all night, wax your body down with love oils'--totally tacky and clumsy and material sex about satins and furs and 'I'm gonna do anything for ya,' and it's all a lie.

"It's good, though. I'm makin' up a song like that called 'Chocolate.' I love sex songs, but I don't like most sex songs. There's a song coming out of me called 'Chocolate.' It's just about how good"--Buckley pauses just for a split second--"pussies feel. And everything. I...love...it.

"I do love it--the way people make a moment out of nothing together, and they must show themselves, and they are naked and have a special language sometimes. Lots of things are being formed in my mind like rocks, like planets, and I'm fighting for every spare moment. So I'm constantly daydreaming about them and talking about them just so they'll be in my mind. Otherwise, I'll be buried in phone interviews and gigs and healing my hand and bad food."

Jeff Buckley and his band perform November 30 at the 21st Amendment.

"Forget Her" Lyrics

"Mojo Pin" on Rock Planet

"Mojo Pin" from Rock Planet in Italy on September 16, 1994:

Rough Trade Autograph

Rock & Folk

October, 1994
By Stan Cuesta
Submitted by Ana
Translated by me

Nature or culture? Innate or acquired? Bullshit! You missed the father (Tim, 1947-1975), do not miss the son (Jeff, 1967-...), natural child of New York and Led Zeppelin.

On the plane that brings me to Atlanta to meet Jeff Buckley, I re-listen to his album, "Grace". Not only do I maintain all the good that I said last month, but I insist: what a disc! Produced by Andy Wallace, who has to his credit, among others, Soul Asylum and Nirvana (the controversial mix of "Smells Like Teen Spirit"), a hellish change from the first 4 track EP of Jeff recorded live and solo in an Irish bar. The trajectory of the son of the mythical Tim Buckley (who died of an overdose in 1975) is astonishing. He was born in 1967, while his parents separated. He met his father only one time, at the age of eight, without speaking to him. Finally, his mother and he were not invited to the funeral. There is the "legacy". If there is a transmission of a gift, it is therefore purely genetic. It is understood that any reference to the father is rather unwelcome, even forbidden. Because obviously, journalists, amazed by this voice, so close to the "other", had a little too much tendency to insist on it. Even the public, as during a solo performance of Jeff, where a spectator screamed in the silence following an impressive piece: "Great! You have exactly the voice of your father!" It can annoy. Unfortunately, all this is complicated and we can not AVOID the question. In fact, even though he was raised by his stepfather (He worked as a mechanic in his garage, listening to Led Zeppelin blasting from stereos, I grew up with this music) in Southern California, his first major stage appearance took place in New York in April 91 during a "Tribute To Tim Buckley" where he surrendered without being announced, stunned the assembly by repeating "I Never Asked To Be Your Mountain." The physical, vocal resemblance, must have thrilled those who had known the father. And this song, precisely, where he mentions his wife and his son..."Flying fish /Tells me about my child / Wrapped bitter stories and sorrow / He just asks for a smile / He never asked to be his mountain / he never asked to fly / Through his eyes his love comes back / tells him not to cry / She says: "Your rascal father has run away / With a dancer he calls a Queen / With his stolen cards, he plays / And laughs, but never wins "/ My sweet love, will you come back / And will you love me little? / Please take my hand / I have gone too long / Now I have come back to stay / Please do not leave me / Again like this / Please, come back home." Troubling...Not easy to be the abandoned son of a legend and escape the ghost. A Jeff song, "Dream Brother", talks about his best friend he loves so much that he would have wanted him to be his older brother..."He's a musician, constantly on the road, people, drugs...I worry a lot about him, a lot of things have been screwed up in his life...I would not want his kids to be...like me." At this point of the interview, I will not have the courage to put pressure, I will change the subject. There will stop the evocation of the father.

Limousines

This first public appearance he decided in any case to settle in New York. Previously, in California, he had done a lot of odd jobs (in a hotel for three years, clothing salesman, electrician, ect), while playing music since the age of thirteen, also earning a living as a sessionman guitarist, chorister or recording and producing demos for others, "buddies who made demos, who spun me 60 dollars here and there." In New York, he meets Gary Lucas, former guitarist of Captain Beefheart, with whom he forms an ephemeral group, Gods & Monsters. They co-write two songs, "Mojo Pin" (opening of all his concerts and CDs to date), and "Grace", which gives its name to the album. Then again "more bands, more money, I started playing solo, for artistic and economic reasons...I played for tips, sometimes a percentage on the inputs. And I continued, gig after gig..." Old school style, on the job, boarding, alone in front of a few late drunkards shouting incongruous requests. Formative. And the word spreads, there is this guy, all alone with his Telecaster and an incredible voice that occurs at Fez, at Sin-e, which mixes all styles, unheard of. And then, it's the son of...And for the first time in the history of these cafes, limousines come to park just ahead. The little guy brings down the executive managers of the majors in a smoky pub on the Lower East Side! As in the good old days, when Jac Holzman went to the other side to sign the Doors at the Whiskey A Gogo exit, or...Tim Buckley! And not just anyone, we see men like Clive Davis himself, big boss of Arista: rejected. Or the people from Sony, who take the piece. Jeff just asks that he be allowed to tour as he wants, and record records as he wants. The fairy tale.

Lullabies

The sequel is the EP recorded a year ago, then the album, finished early 94 at Bearsville Woodstock. With a group. Complete strangers to the battalion, Mick Grondhal on bass (He had never played in a group before. That's perfect. Groovy!), Matt Johnson on drums, plus Michael Tighe, last to come, on second guitar. These guys saw him playing solo, and came to offer their services because they LOVED WHAT HE DID! This is the only way to proceed. I do not care if a guy is 17 and can not play. Hey, punk? Not far, not far... The album barely finished, what else? A tour through the States, a date a day. BEFORE THE ALBUM IS OUT? Yes. It's like that at the Buckley's. And August 6th, it's Atlanta. I landed. Customs: "Are you on vacation?" "Um yes." "For 2 days?" "Yeah." "Your job?" (I hesitate) "Musician (never say one is a journalist, it annoys them)..." "What instrument?" "Uh...everything, finally, I'm a singer, finally songwriter..." Oh yes, and you sing what? " "Lullabies." Which quickly ends the discussion. Arrival at the hotel, everywhere white (ugly, fat, fools) and black (beautiful, big, radiant) that never mix. At the reception, a white employee in front of which the whites stand in line, and a black employee with, in front of him, the blacks. And I, of course, the misplaced that everyone looks at in the corner. I get in touch with the photographer, Philippe Mogane, who has been living in the US for twenty years, and in Atlanta for several years. Nothing beats a good guide, equipped with a big black Ford. Some beers and news of the country (the street of Nantes), we tell our lives. And we listen to the CD of Jeff Buckley thoroughly in the car while traveling Atlanta at night, my God, I had never listened so hard, suddenly, I rediscover stuff. Philippe seems to like that, he will say the next day "It's great music for having sex." Saturday, I escape, alone, on foot (a feat, given the size of the city). Atlanta underground. In addition, the weather is nice. Some places make you feel at home on the other side of the world...

Muezzin

 In the evening, it's the concert in a club in the same neighbourhood, The Point, the kind of perfect place you die not to have in France (we're Gibus or Zenith, in between, what do we do?). Cool, two bars, professional lighting and sound, a good atmosphere, good bands. Philippe gives me the 45 rpm of the Stooges "I Got A Right," which he produced on his label, Siamese Records, in the 70s, and tells me that he often sees his friends, the Fleshtones, setting the place on fire. Rock 'n' roll. At midnight, the band shows up on stage (as they cross the room, the dressing rooms are beyond the bar!), you look like nothing, you disappear. Jeff sings a kind of a cappella muezzin song that will last a few minutes: brave. The audience gets a little angry and boom, it's the beginning of "Mojo Pin" that comes out. This guy's got something in his gut, you can feel it. He's the star, but he's not playing it, he's magnetizing. The group is discreet but perfect. The pieces stretch, with many breaks, variations in intensity. The voice is magnificent, his guitar playing impressive. The album scrolls through, plus a few new ones, people discover, and yet, it's a success. With his eyes closed, Jeff Buckley lets his voice fly away on amazing improvisations. As a reminder, a hallucinated, long and violent version of Alex Chilton's "Kanga-roo," from the Big Star period. And here we are, walking back through the room, relaxing in the dressing rooms, having a little chat. Mogane is out of control, he has taken his pictures, he flirts with everything that moves. Bad luck, he comes across the only two lesbians in the club. The important thing is to participate.

Piaf

Sunday afternoon, Ritz Carlon, for the interview, Jeff did not sleep, he is exhausted by the tour. He did not change, green shirt...Three-day beard. In this luxurious-kitsch decor, amazing. This guy is very beautiful, but he does everything not to show it. For photos, it's "deal with it". Not the kind to nervously restyle. "He's a punk" confirms Mogane (who knows it). When I arrive for the interview, he is lying on the sofa, his eyes closed...I tell him that his album is record of the month in Rock & Folk, he looks dismayed! "Thank you...I guess." With an air of saying "my poor old man, you do not know what to invent, you other journalists". I mention Edith Piaf, which surprisingly "I do not know the end", was on his first EP. I have both versions, French and American, the Carnegie Hall concert is on the big box of 10 cd's...I understand this music. Although it can be very fine, it comes from someone who has lived, from the street. She was so powerfully tragic. In fact, it does not surprise me that you like that too, you have her style...(Gasp, I look like Edith Piaf?) Side musical influences, we can say that the range of Jeff is...open . From Led Zeppelin to Nusrat Fateh Ali Kahn, via Charlie Mingus, Van Morrison (he covers "Young Lovers Do", from "Astral Weeks"), Benjamin Britten (a Christmas carol, on the album)! Hard to stick a label, after all that. Favorite songwriters? "Nick Cave...James Brown Raymond Asso...My God, there are so many! All that has soul (soul), actually...Nina Simone (he does a sublime version of" Lilac Wine ")". And besides this version of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" does he know John Cale's? "Well, I actually play John Cale's version, that's where I got it, from this album," I'm Your Fan", that I had listened to at a friend's house. Leonard's is the original, but he does not sing all the verses, the way John interprets it is so...simple." The guy is COOL. We speak guitars. "I like playing solo and electric, and with the electric, you can go from Sex Pistols to...Joe Pass." A good summary, finally. "I learned to play on my own, then I took a few classes with a very hip jazz guy, it enriched my knowledge on the harmonic level, chord position, but I only kept the main one, my own chords, my own open-tunings, to have some tones that we do not get with a standard tuning. New or thirteenths, without it sounds like jazz wankers. And as he has the perfect ear (the muzak drains from the radio, he tells me, that's in F minor), he detuned-tuned his guitar at the speed of sound, between the pieces, not like Keith Richards who has a guitar by tuning. Or Chris Cornell from Soundgarden, who has all these guitars, one by one, it's amazing...That and the jaguars, the rhinestones...He toured with them, he likes them, but we do not feel any envy for all this decorum. By the way, who are today's guys does he feels close to? "Let's say I like Stereolab, Red House Painters, la la la (he looks for), come on baby! Uh...Pavement, Jesus Lizard, Melvins." Ah well, the readers were afraid of having to buy the dictionary of jazz...And this fascination for Led Zep? In "Grace", the strings make me think of "Kashmir". "Maybe because it's the only time you've heard real strings on heavy rock..." (He hums the "indianizing" passage) These are sections of brass and strings arranged by John Paul Jones. I thought about Motown, but you can not fight, huh?" These imprints of oriental scales, he seems to like that: "I love that, the Indian muzak, or Oum Kalsoum with the Great Egyptian Orchestra behind it." On stage, however, the formation is more collected. You do not miss it, a keyboard? "If I found the right person, it would be perfect. I play a little piano, too, oh, I'd like to make you listen to these improvisations we made with the band, we had just been jamming, and we had this sort of ... liberating epiphany of all that shit. I was playing like Phil Glass under angel dust trying to be Sun Ra or whatever, that was great! I imagine." So precisely, with all this flow, different projects? "Yes, of course, but the band still has a huge amount of maneuvers, we are constantly evolving, apart from writing songs, I'd like...It'll probably never happen, but someone asked me to to play Lollapalooza, if it happened, to make it really Lollapaloozesque, I dreamed about it, I would like a big band that would make people believe that they are under a bad acid, a sort of cabaret, where I would sing twenty-minute songs that nobody knows, and others thirty seconds, covers, you see?"

Angie

A bohemian, a real one. We said goodbye, let's meet in Paris on September 22nd, for a concert at the Erotika. Philippe and I are drained, we have a few drinks with his girlfriend, Angie Bowie (sorry, Jerome), who lives in Atlanta (what a funny idea! There is Elton John too, but we do not invite him). We are having a good time. Angie prepares a record, she will come to Europe in September. In fact, we're totally drunk. The sun sets. Back in the hotel, I listen, in a semi-coma, an interview of Jeff on 99X, THE trendy radio of the city. A listener calls to say that he sounds like Robert Plant, but better recorded...To answer him Jeff plays live a piece on his acoustic Gibson which he spoke to me a quarter of an hour ago ("A reissue of the model by Robert Johnson With a guitar like that, you always want to play, it's like an extension of yourself "). The interviewer tells him that Sony puts a label on him, that he is perhaps "the next big thing", at least the company seems to wish it. Answer: "Oh yeah, well, they may have a big surprise on awakening!" I fall asleep happy.

Classical Festival

On July 18, 1995, after meeting earlier in the day, Jeff and Afghani singer Alim Qasimov decided to duet on "The Way Young Lovers Do", and "What Will You Say" in St. Florent, France at the Classical Festival. The result was pure magic, and how great is it to see him so happy?

Rehearsal 

"The Way Young Lovers Do"

"What Will You Say"

The show took place in this lovely green area ❤️

All pics courtesy of Shelly Happart

State Of Grace

By Brad Jones, November 9, 1994

When singer/songwriter Jeff Buckley talks about his music, he doesn't mess around.

"I'd say my songs fall into [the category] of twentieth-century American," he notes, "because that definition encompasses so much. Pop art. Even the Flintstones. It could be Gershwin. It could be Rodgers and Hart. It could be John Cage. It could be Zeppelin--even though they're English, listening to Led Zeppelin is still so American. It could be the Bad Brains. The Butthole Surfers. Japanese music. Pakistani. Anything with soul, really. I think they all contribute to my homeland, and I can't help but be a direct by-product of it all. I see a line connecting all of it."

Not many young artists would site such an eclectic roster of influences--but Jeff Buckley isn't just any young artist. In fact, he's among the few performers who actually transcend the tags imposed upon them by well-meaning music critics such as yours truly. On Grace, his first full-length offering for Columbia Records, Buckley and his bandmates (guitarist Michael Tighe, bassist Mick Grondahl and drummer Matt Johnson) transform typical rock, jazz, folk and blues cliches into mystical journeys that manage to surprise listeners at every turn. "Last Goodbye," for example, begins with an explosive guitar arrangement reminiscent of the aforementioned Zeppelin, yet Buckley's bold, expressive guitar playing and soaring tenor exhibit more of a kinship with Blue-era Joni Mitchell than they do with Robert Plant. And the atmospheric numbers "So Real" and "Lilac Wine" exude a poignancy that most folksingers would die for, despite the songs' decidedly torchy delivery. Taken as a whole, Grace stands as definitive proof that even in the ultra-derivative Nineties, there is still room for music that's fresh, original and--surprise--listenable.

For Buckley, his mysterious musical sojourns manifest themselves in a variety of ways. "Certain issues just seem to grab me," he explains, "and I just try to gather as much nectar as I can from these feelings. Sometimes things have a rhythm and a heat to them, and I try to reflect them. Or re-reflect them, I guess."

The guitarist has had plenty of time to perfect his songwriting skills. A native of a small California town, he first picked up a six-string at age six under the tutelage of his mother, a classically trained pianist and cellist. His late father, folk innovator Tim Buckley (who left the family when Jeff was still a child), was far less of an inspiration to him. Buckley is quick to dismiss any similarities between his work and that of the man best known for the albums Goodbye and Hello and Greetings From L.A. "If I were following in my father's footsteps, I'd be dead in some apartment somewhere," he exclaims with an air of exasperation. "I started playing guitar because of Jimmy Page and Ace Frehley, and I started singing because of my mom. He never really even entered into it."

When he was thirteen Buckley played his first gig--a sock hop at the neighborhood Methodist church. Today the guitarist recalls the event with mild amusement. "It was total white-boy rock," he remembers. "I think I spent all the money I made on chips and gas."

Uneasy with his provincial surroundings, the performer decided to sell his possessions and relocate to New York City in 1990. At the time, Buckley says, his only concern was distancing himself from what had become a particularly paralyzing jag of depression. "I was totally despondent," he says. "I don't know what happened to make me that way. I was just dead--walking dead."

Fortunately, the Big Apple provided the musician with an outlet for his pain. After "starving like a chump" for a number of months, Buckley decided to completely immerse himself in his music. "I was sick of dying, but I didn't know how to live," he claims. "So I just decided to situate myself in a chrysalis and wait to be reborn someday. I forgot my name. I forgot my body. I forgot my head and my hair and how ugly I thought I was. Everything. I disoriented myself from everything about being a human being and just played and played and played and sang and sang and sang."

The results of this transitional period can be heard on Live at Sine, an impressive, if brief, collection of Buckley's early solo material that became his debut EP for Columbia. Of the disc's four tracks, two (including Van Morrison's "The Way Young Lovers Do") are covers, while the other pair ("Mojo Pin" and "Eternal Life," co-written by former Captain Beefheart guitarist Gary Lucas) are solo interpretations of songs that wound up on Grace in full-band settings. Buckley chose to render the selections on electric guitar--an unusual approach for a solo performer, but one that he feels was the most logical choice given his particular style of playing. "I've always liked the electric guitar better," he concedes. "Even though the acoustic can be a very sexy and mysterious instrument, I can go to way more places with an electric.

"Besides," he continues, "I knew eventually I would get a band. It was like I was sending out a pheromone to anybody that wanted to play."

Grondahl was the first to catch the scent; the self-taught bassist approached Buckley at one of his solo appearances. According to Buckley, the two hit it off immediately. "We got together, and I knew he was the one to play bass," he says. "He's got a natural beauty on the bass that nobody that's trained would have."

Drummer Johnson fell in next, followed by Tighe, a longtime friend of Buckley's who came aboard shortly after the recording of Grace. A relative newcomer to the guitar, Tighe had never played in a band situation prior to joining Buckley's combo--a fact that amazes Buckley to this day. "[Michael] had never really picked up a guitar before he was 18, and he's like 21 now," he exclaims. "Mine is the first band he's ever been in. And so far, he's already been across the U.S. and Europe."

Several tours later, the foursome had garnered daunting reviews from such leading rags as Interview, Time and People. Among the disparate acts to whom Buckley and his crew have been compared: Roy Harper, Art Garfunkel and Queen.

At the same time, some journalists have attempted to lump Buckley in with the disenfranchised youths known collectively as Generation X. Buckley admits he's frustrated by this tack, but not because he's unsympathetic to his peers. He says his hostility is directed instead at those who've profited from all the hype surrounding this so-called movement. As he puts it, "All these people that want to make me out as part of Generation X had better watch out, or they're going to get X'd out themselves. I'm sick of all these labels and these manufactured subdivisions of music that don't even exist. And even though I'm pierced myself, I'm sick of everyone equating body piercing with musical courage.

"If you ask me," he adds, "it takes a lot more than that."
Jeff Buckley. 8 p.m. Saturday, November 12, Bug Theatre, 3654 Navajo Street, $9, 290-TIXS or 477-5977.

Australian Interview

Another top rated clip, the Australian "pink shirt" interview with a short bit of the show at the Metro Theatre (Metro website ):

Los Angeles Daily News

Jeff Buckley Looks Like A Star On Rise

December 18, 1994, By the Los Angeles Daily News

LOS ANGELES — The word is out on Jeff Buckley, rock's latest superstar in the making.

It isn't only because of his critically acclaimed debut album or an earlier, four-song CD that a couple of recent local dates sold out and fans stood outside trying to snag tickets.

The singer-guitarist's word-of-mouth reputation stems from massive European press and a unique personal history - he's the son of the late Tim Buckley, an eccentric, romantic poet-singer who made a series of acclaimed albums for Elektra from 1967-70 and died of a drug overdose five years later.

The younger Buckley was just 7 when his father died, and although he never really got to know the man, the two share an unusual vocal delivery that swoops, flows and soars like no one else.

At age 28, Jeff Buckley is an astounding singer, inventive guitarist and highly promising songwriter who often explores complex themes.

''Sensitivity isn't being wimpy,'' he said. ''It's about being so painfully aware that a flea landing on a dog is like a sonic boom. I enjoy a lot of mystery.''

Buckley and his trio opened a West Hollywood show a few weeks ago with ''Mojo Pin,'' a jazzy, free-flowing number he co-wrote with experimental New York guitarist Gary Lucas that also appears on Buckley's highly rated debut, Grace (Columbia).

The singer, who describes himself as ''rootless trailer-trash born in Southern California,'' brought the tune down to a whisper as the packed club followed along in silence. Buckley later covered Leonard Cohen's ''Hallelujah'' and demonstrated that he easily can mimic one of his favorite crooners, Led Zeppelin's Robert Plant.

''I once tried to sing jazz for real,'' Buckley said. ''But jazz didn't do it for me. You can't have jazz without a jazz world, which doesn't exist anymore. I once took a ride to the beach in L.A. and all along the shore there were all these so-called jazz places. And I saw these college guys and session players playing this fusion Muzak stuff. It was just a lot of notes, and the more notes they played, the more it kept them from expressing anything.

''So I came back home and got out my Zeppelin albums.''

Buckley has been touring the world for much of the year, partly to break in his band and partly to promote his album, he said.

''I'm fighting for spare time,'' he said. ''It's been excruciating. I admit I'm at the end of my rope. But I wanted to establish the meat of the whole thing is the live experience. I didn't want to stay home and let the video do the work. My music is something you have to taste.''

Buckley moved to New York about five years ago and began playing solo gigs at folk clubs. Last year's four-song disc, Live at Sin-e, was recorded during one such summer date at an East Village cafe.

''More than any other place, New York is where I felt I belonged,'' Buckley said. ''I prefer the Lower East Side to any place on the planet. I can be who I am there and I couldn't do that anywhere I lived as a child. I never fit in when I lived in California, even though that's where my roots are.''

Sexpot Dispair

I've read this is called "Sexpot Despair" so that's what I'm calling it too lol:

Fontainebleau Hotel

On June 18, 1993, Jeff played this short (15:24!) show at the Fontainebleau Hotel in Boca Raton, FL. Fun fact: he makes a reference to this show at his Stephen Talkhouse gig 😊 (website)

Setlist:

1. The Way Young Lovers Do
2. Hallelujah
3. Eternal Life

The Roulette Club

One last Gods and Monsters gig, this time on April 5, 1992...enjoy!

Setlist:
1. Dink's Song
2. Sweet Thing
3. How Long Will It Take
4. Mojo Pin
5. Hymn L'Amour
6. Grace

Barristers Autograph

Seagulls Stardust Auditorium

On this day in 1996, Jeff played the Seagulls Stardust Auditorium in Queensland, Australia...enjoy! (website)

Setlist:

1. Chocolate/Mojo Pin
2. So Real
3. Eternal Life
4. Lilac Wine
5. Grace
6. Last Goodbye
7. What Will You Say
8.  I Woke Up In A Strange Place
9. Dream Brother
10. Moodswing Whiskey
11. Kick Out The Jams
12. Lover, You Should've Come Over
13. That's All I Ask
14. Hallelujah/I Know It's Over

The location currently 

Gods and Monsters 1991

A short but no less important piece of very early footage with Gods and Monsters on November 1, 1991 at the Knitting Factory (website ):

Setlist:
1. Bluebird Blues
2. Mojo Pin
3. Grace

The location now 

The current venue (101 Avenue A)

Greetings From Tim Buckley

The one that started it all: April 26, 1991, St. Anne's Church, the Tim Buckley Tribute. This always brings a tear to my eyes and,though I'm sure he'd hate to hear it, I'm sure Tim was there that day, and beyond proud. Knowing how it affected him only adds to it...enjoy!

Setlist

1. I Never Asked To Be Your Mountain
2. Sefronia (The Kings Chain)
3. Phantasmagoria In Two
4. Once I Was

Courtesy of Natalie Belamonte

Babylon Dungeon Tape

Today, I think we'll give a tip of the hat to early Jeff, so we begin, obviously enough, at the very beginning: the Babylon Dungeon tape done in LA in September, 1990...the earliest record of his voice, well, on record lol. I find it so interesting to hear how he progressed from here, and seriously, how adorable is the handwritten label?!:  

Unforgiven-first mix

Unforgiven-second mix

Radio

Eternal Life

Strawberry Street-instrumental

Strawberry Street-vocal

"I was going through my old tapes and found this that Jeff had sent me while he was still living in California. We were friends and I cherish my letters he sent and laugh when I think of his phone calls. He was a very funny guy. I think of him often and miss him alot."-Louie Dula via FB