St. Louis Post Dispatch, Oct. 28, 1994
By Alan Sculley
Submitted by Sai
Buckley avoids dad's shadow
Jeff Buckley had just let out a huge sigh, the kind that projects a mixture of weariness, anger, disappointment and disgust.
His reason for the response and the sudden uneasy air in this recent phone interview was the mention of his father, Tim Buckley, the acclaimed late singer/songwriter whose trailblazing blend of jazz, folk, and blues made him something of a troubadour icon.
Despite obvious reluctance over the subject, Buckley patiently and candidly-but briefly-discussed his father and how much attention he had paid to his music before concluding before concluding his thoughts this way:
"Anyway, I'm tired of this. I'm tired of every single journalist seeing fit to keep (bringing it up)," he said. "Everybody has read everything they have to read about it. Everybody knows my attitude on it. Nobody wants to observe it. So I'll just have to deal with it, I guess. Maybe I'm not a good enough artist that people just think of me. Maybe in the future I'll bloom into something that will make people look at me for what I am."
It's easy to see why Buckley is so weary of having to discuss his father. After all, Tim Buckley had left Jeff's mother to pursue music before he even knew his own son. The only time Jeff Buckley met his father was when he was 8 years old, and even then they only spent one week together. A couple months later, in 1975, Tim Buckley was dead from a drug overdose, so any father-son musical connection has to be considered tenuous at best.
And although he may express self-doubts about his own music so far, Buckley has released a strikingly original studio debut CD, Grace," that should make father-son comparisons seem even more superfluous.
Actually, Buckley said, the people who played key roles in shaping his music were his mother (a classically trained pianist and cellist) and stepfather, who was married to his mother from 1971 to 1973.
"I have a lot of my mother in me, but I was just born with the same parts as (my father). I don't sound like him," Buckley said. "I mean, I can do an impression of him right now, and I do not sound like him. I sound like me. My sense of rhythm I learned from my mother. My melodies I think sometimes I get from my mother. But I molded everything myself. I was just left alone with music and got an understanding from whatever I could as a kid. It certainly wasn't from my father's records. I don't own any of my father's records.
"If people want to go ahead and compare us, that's fine. They can do that all day, but just don't come to the gig, because you won't get what it is you want. And I'm sure the next album will completely disappoint all Tim Buckley fans if they think I'm going to do what he did for them. That's just useless and childish to think that will happen. I'm concerned with the future. I'm concerned with my life, my present, my friends, people I love, people who love me. I have no intention of taking on a legacy that wasn't bestowed on me."
Buckley's own music has begun to come into focus only in recent years. After growing up in California in what he describes as a rootless existence-he and his mother moved frequently during Buckley's youth-he dabbled in local bands and briefly attended the Musician's Institute in Los Angeles before moving to New York City in the early '90s.
He first gained significant notice when he performed at a 1991 tribute concert for his father. ("I went there just to pay my last respects because that was something that I was denied before as a child," Buckley said. "I wasn't invited to the funeral. I don't know why.")
Shortly thereafter, Buckley briefly joined a group called God & Monsters, which included former Captain Beefheart member Gary Lucas, drummer Anton Fier (of the Golden Palominos) and bassist Tony Maimore (formerly of Pere Ubu). After two God & Monster gigs, Buckley realized he had to strike off on his own to discover his own musical voice.
Over the next two years, he played at small coffeehouses and clubs around the city, accompanying himself only on electric guitar. His sets came to feature a diverse range of cover tunes mixed with a growing repertoire of intriguing originals. He quickly became known for his engaging, theatrical stage presence and, more notably, for his soaring falsetto vocals, which have drawn comparisons to Freddie Mercury, to Robert Plant and, naturally, to Tim Buckley's haunting tones.
Buckley said that even though his music was conceived in a solo setting, he knew he would expand into a band format that would be built around electric guitar and his voice. However, Buckley didn't find the right players for his band until just prior to the recording sessions for "Grace." Bassist Mick Grondahl and drummer Matt Johnson joined in time to squeeze in a few rehearsals and gigs before heading into the studio. Guitarist Michael Tighe came on board well into the sessions and played on one song, "So Real."
But if the band my still be refining its chemistry, the members combine for some spectacular moments on "Grace," one of the most original-sounding albums of the year. Buckley and band have created a sound that defies categorizing. They rock hard on "Eternal Life" and "Mojo Pin," downshift into folksy pop on "Last Goodbye" and conjure up achingly beautiful balladry on "Lover, You Should've Come Over" and on versions of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" and Nina Simone's "Lilac Wine."
At the center of it all is Buckley's soaring voice, which can both reach spine-chilling crescendos (as on the title track) or be gentle and touching (as on "Lilac Wine"). It's the kind of record that gains power and passion with each listen.
As the distinctive flavors of the music suggest, songwriting is an intuitive process in which, Buckley said, he tries to let the melodies and words emerge naturally and take their own shapes and sounds. By necessity, it starts as a rather selfish process.
"If my heart isn't beating, how can other hearts beat t the same time?" he said. "Maybe (someday), I'll just make, like, a complete on-demand record that everybody wants to hear. But tht would be impossible-and, also, I just changed my mind. I don't think I'll ever do that.
"That's an ugly thought to make an album to the demands of a record-buying public that you can't even see. They don't come to me because I pander to their interests. They come to me because I pander to mine, and we sort of are in alignment, and that's good. That's a nice thing, it's sort of like a spontaneous affair."
Allan Sculley writes on pop and rock music for a number of publications.
Jeff Buckley
Where: Sheldon, 3648 Washington Ave.
When: 8 p.m. Friday, Nov. 4
How much: $10
Opening act: Brenda Kahn
Tickets: 291-7600
By Alan Sculley
Submitted by Sai
Buckley avoids dad's shadow
Jeff Buckley had just let out a huge sigh, the kind that projects a mixture of weariness, anger, disappointment and disgust.
His reason for the response and the sudden uneasy air in this recent phone interview was the mention of his father, Tim Buckley, the acclaimed late singer/songwriter whose trailblazing blend of jazz, folk, and blues made him something of a troubadour icon.
Despite obvious reluctance over the subject, Buckley patiently and candidly-but briefly-discussed his father and how much attention he had paid to his music before concluding before concluding his thoughts this way:
"Anyway, I'm tired of this. I'm tired of every single journalist seeing fit to keep (bringing it up)," he said. "Everybody has read everything they have to read about it. Everybody knows my attitude on it. Nobody wants to observe it. So I'll just have to deal with it, I guess. Maybe I'm not a good enough artist that people just think of me. Maybe in the future I'll bloom into something that will make people look at me for what I am."
It's easy to see why Buckley is so weary of having to discuss his father. After all, Tim Buckley had left Jeff's mother to pursue music before he even knew his own son. The only time Jeff Buckley met his father was when he was 8 years old, and even then they only spent one week together. A couple months later, in 1975, Tim Buckley was dead from a drug overdose, so any father-son musical connection has to be considered tenuous at best.
And although he may express self-doubts about his own music so far, Buckley has released a strikingly original studio debut CD, Grace," that should make father-son comparisons seem even more superfluous.
Actually, Buckley said, the people who played key roles in shaping his music were his mother (a classically trained pianist and cellist) and stepfather, who was married to his mother from 1971 to 1973.
"I have a lot of my mother in me, but I was just born with the same parts as (my father). I don't sound like him," Buckley said. "I mean, I can do an impression of him right now, and I do not sound like him. I sound like me. My sense of rhythm I learned from my mother. My melodies I think sometimes I get from my mother. But I molded everything myself. I was just left alone with music and got an understanding from whatever I could as a kid. It certainly wasn't from my father's records. I don't own any of my father's records.
"If people want to go ahead and compare us, that's fine. They can do that all day, but just don't come to the gig, because you won't get what it is you want. And I'm sure the next album will completely disappoint all Tim Buckley fans if they think I'm going to do what he did for them. That's just useless and childish to think that will happen. I'm concerned with the future. I'm concerned with my life, my present, my friends, people I love, people who love me. I have no intention of taking on a legacy that wasn't bestowed on me."
Buckley's own music has begun to come into focus only in recent years. After growing up in California in what he describes as a rootless existence-he and his mother moved frequently during Buckley's youth-he dabbled in local bands and briefly attended the Musician's Institute in Los Angeles before moving to New York City in the early '90s.
He first gained significant notice when he performed at a 1991 tribute concert for his father. ("I went there just to pay my last respects because that was something that I was denied before as a child," Buckley said. "I wasn't invited to the funeral. I don't know why.")
Shortly thereafter, Buckley briefly joined a group called God & Monsters, which included former Captain Beefheart member Gary Lucas, drummer Anton Fier (of the Golden Palominos) and bassist Tony Maimore (formerly of Pere Ubu). After two God & Monster gigs, Buckley realized he had to strike off on his own to discover his own musical voice.
Over the next two years, he played at small coffeehouses and clubs around the city, accompanying himself only on electric guitar. His sets came to feature a diverse range of cover tunes mixed with a growing repertoire of intriguing originals. He quickly became known for his engaging, theatrical stage presence and, more notably, for his soaring falsetto vocals, which have drawn comparisons to Freddie Mercury, to Robert Plant and, naturally, to Tim Buckley's haunting tones.
Buckley said that even though his music was conceived in a solo setting, he knew he would expand into a band format that would be built around electric guitar and his voice. However, Buckley didn't find the right players for his band until just prior to the recording sessions for "Grace." Bassist Mick Grondahl and drummer Matt Johnson joined in time to squeeze in a few rehearsals and gigs before heading into the studio. Guitarist Michael Tighe came on board well into the sessions and played on one song, "So Real."
But if the band my still be refining its chemistry, the members combine for some spectacular moments on "Grace," one of the most original-sounding albums of the year. Buckley and band have created a sound that defies categorizing. They rock hard on "Eternal Life" and "Mojo Pin," downshift into folksy pop on "Last Goodbye" and conjure up achingly beautiful balladry on "Lover, You Should've Come Over" and on versions of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" and Nina Simone's "Lilac Wine."
At the center of it all is Buckley's soaring voice, which can both reach spine-chilling crescendos (as on the title track) or be gentle and touching (as on "Lilac Wine"). It's the kind of record that gains power and passion with each listen.
As the distinctive flavors of the music suggest, songwriting is an intuitive process in which, Buckley said, he tries to let the melodies and words emerge naturally and take their own shapes and sounds. By necessity, it starts as a rather selfish process.
"If my heart isn't beating, how can other hearts beat t the same time?" he said. "Maybe (someday), I'll just make, like, a complete on-demand record that everybody wants to hear. But tht would be impossible-and, also, I just changed my mind. I don't think I'll ever do that.
"That's an ugly thought to make an album to the demands of a record-buying public that you can't even see. They don't come to me because I pander to their interests. They come to me because I pander to mine, and we sort of are in alignment, and that's good. That's a nice thing, it's sort of like a spontaneous affair."
Allan Sculley writes on pop and rock music for a number of publications.
Jeff Buckley
Where: Sheldon, 3648 Washington Ave.
When: 8 p.m. Friday, Nov. 4
How much: $10
Opening act: Brenda Kahn
Tickets: 291-7600
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