Follow me here

Friday, May 18, 2018

R&F Grace Review

September, 1994
By Stan Cuesta
Submitted by Niella

Attention, big surprise! A UFO! Extraordinary first album, perfect, by a major artist that we did not see arrive. Of course, it is the son of Tim Buckley, mythical hero of folk-rock-jazz poetic years 66-75, fallen angel with inimitable voice, died too young of too much excess. The name could seem heavy to wear, a priori. But listening to the album sweeps away any worry. Exit references to the father, finished, forgotten, outdated. I love Tim Buckley, I still listen to his records sometimes, they are magical. But I take the bet that in a few years, it will be more like "the father of Jeff"...This little guy will go very far, very high, very fast. Best of all there is the tone of the voice, a little reminiscent. We can think of Robert Plant, or downright Led Zeppelin, that of "Kashmir", for the use of the strings, on a heavy and repetitive rhythm, and this voice that flies above...But the music is totally original, the science of perfect contrasts. Jeff Buckley plays a few songs alone, accompanied by his electric guitar. And he's a famous guitarist, with a style apart, confusing. For example, a reprise of the "Hallelujah" Leonard Cohen, truly haunting. We already had a twilight version by John Cale, here is the opposite, we go up instead of down! Let him sing a chord and sing a single sentence ("Lilac Wine"), and it's all my hair standing at attention! And then, there are the songs with the band, noisy, wild and melodic, giving pride to complex arrangements, delirious, brilliant ("Mojo Pin", "Grace", "So Real", "Eternal Life"). Jeff Buckley gets a kind of sound dough so rich that the brain is exceeded during first listenings. Unpredictable, incomprehensible. The music is beautiful when it is indecipherable, when we do not know what instrument plays what, how they do. Yes, like Jimi Hendrix, exactly. Unfalsifiable. It is the aesthetics of the blur that comes back in force, and shit for scalpel productions. Magic, the mysterious, disorganization! It's too much...Too beautiful, too strong. A masterpiece. Types like that depress me. Too talented. Hat low.

No comments:

Post a Comment