New York Times, September 9, 1994
By Stephen Holden
In the most impressive album debut by a singer and songwriter since Tracy Chapman's first record, the 27-year-old Jeff Buckley reveals a voice of astonishing emotional fire. Two of the most compelling cuts are revelatory interpretations of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" and of "Lilac Wine," the jazz standard made famous by Helen Merrill. If Mr. Buckley's original songs aren't as arresting, they express the same burning mysticism, and his voice, which shades from an ethereal soprano of heart-rending delicacy into a transported yowl worthy of Robert Plant, makes them indelible. The settings, which feature Mr. Buckley on guitar, harmonium, organ and dulcimer, strikingly underscore the songs' intense spiritual aura.
By Stephen Holden
In the most impressive album debut by a singer and songwriter since Tracy Chapman's first record, the 27-year-old Jeff Buckley reveals a voice of astonishing emotional fire. Two of the most compelling cuts are revelatory interpretations of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" and of "Lilac Wine," the jazz standard made famous by Helen Merrill. If Mr. Buckley's original songs aren't as arresting, they express the same burning mysticism, and his voice, which shades from an ethereal soprano of heart-rending delicacy into a transported yowl worthy of Robert Plant, makes them indelible. The settings, which feature Mr. Buckley on guitar, harmonium, organ and dulcimer, strikingly underscore the songs' intense spiritual aura.
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