Cleveland Scene, October, 1994
Written and submitted by Pete Chakerian
The sounds of Pakistani singer Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan drift in between the relaxed words of Jeff Buckley as he begins one of his last phone interviews of a two-day press marathon. Checking in with the SCENE from the Sony offices in midtown Manhattan, Buckley doesn't sound like an artist who's wrestled with the press for two straight days.
"(The press schedule) was my wish actually, to get it done in two days and actually achieve the illusion of having spare time," Buckley admits. "It's just an illusion."
Another illusion, in Buckley's opinion, are all the Next Big Thing kudos he hs been receiving from critics. From the release of last year's debut EP, LIVE AT SIN-É, to his first long-player, GRACE, Buckley has been swimming through a sea of these common, critical declarations. Or, what he refers to as "a cop-out to thinking.
"Next Big Thing votes are like when Boy Scouts first learn how to ejaculate," Buckley says, obviously grinning. "They just keep on doing it and doing until it gets all sloppy and stupid and your balls hurt. Boring! If that's me, then I have achieved my worst nightmare.
"Everybody's been looking for Christ since the Beatles hit America," Buckley reflects, "The kind of art that I make could never take over anything, except for maybe somebody's bedroom. Or maybe their heart. People don't know what to make of (my music), so it can't possibly be a revelation...It's a really treacherous area to interpret something that doesn't really have a language.
"My oniy advice to people," adds Buckley of the hype, "is just to ignore it. Let's see if we can have a good time together." Buckley will give his fans that opportunity when he plays Wilbert's this Tuesday, November 1; labelmate Brenda Kahn will open.
To the media's defense, Buckley’s surreal sense of honesty would have any music aficionado-writer or otherwise-blowing a fuse. His approach is unique and revealing, yet somehow, he still remains secretive within the context of his compositions.
"Everything I need is right here in my kneecaps and in my breastbone and in my head," offers Buckley. "I guess the by-product is revealing, but the object is not to reveal. It is simply to express, but everybody's revealed when they express themselves, you know? Everybody walking around, wether they like it or not-even the most covert-is completely exposed for what he or she is by their actions."
Buckley’s not interested in turning his art into a confessional. "I don't want (my music) to become a forum for me, pouring out my inner most secrets," Buckley admits. "That's something I would never do. I don't divulge secrets to the public. I divulge them to my friends, and only when it's appropriate."
Since Buckley’s first appearance on the New York music scene back in 1991-during a tribute to his biological father/troubadour hero Tim Buckley-comparisons to legendary figures like Robert Plant, Freddie Mercury and his father Tim have cropped up everywhere. With little provocation, Buckley shudders at all the comparisons.
"(It's) lazy journalism and a lazy culture and lack of courage to describe originality," he counters matter-of-factly. "Or maybe, I'm just not a good enough artist that I can buck all those things. I'm sure it's high praise, you know? Freddie Mercury was f**king brilliant."
According to Buckley, the comparisons make "easy copy" for writers. "I've read rock journalists describe my friend Craig Wedren (from Shudder To Think) as a young Robert Plant," he says. "He's about as close to Robert Plant as Doris Day is. It's just stupidity left and right."
It's not that Buckley doesn't have influences. "I grew up listening to all those people. I grew up ensconced in an era that was polluted with that music," he admits. "So be it. My own choices are evident. I just don't think that people know me or listen to me deeply enough to write rock reviews to really know the real me. But that's OK, there's time. And maybe I am totally derivative and unoriginal. Maybe the next album will determine that. I feel I'm making my own statement."
When focus narrows to the comparisons made with his father, Buckley’s tranquil voice becomes melancholy and pensive.
"Another shortcut to thinking," Buckley says. "He never taught me anything. He had another son that he taught to be a good person and he had another wife. I just wasn't included. It's journalists playing Ken and Barbie with me and Tim Buckley. It used to hurt. It used to hurt a lot. Now it's just boring. Painfully boring. It's quite an oddity, this whole situation."
It was such an oddity to Jeff at first, that he was reluctant to participate in the 1991 memorial show for his father. After struggling with his emotions, he acquiesced when "I realized that I'd never have another chance to pay my respects. I didn't make it to the funeral. I wasn't invited. So I decided to do it on my own terms. I don't think I really sang very well (that night)," he adds, "(but) it was a matter of life or death."
"Do you know what a 'kaddish' is?" he asks. "It's what the son or daughter does for the dead parent. Nobody sang a kaddish for him, and, if I didn't, I felt like that part of him wouldn't rest. And a part of me wouldn't rest."
Buckley made great strides in building his own separate identity when he joined Gods & Monsters-a band centered around ex-Captain Beefheart guitarist Gary Lucas-a short time after the tribute show. Rather than follow the circling industry vultures who attended, Buckley felt that if his notoriety was to build, it would build at his own pace, on his own terms.
Buckley’s shortlived tenure with the underground supergroup didn't provide that slow build. He split with the band-which also featured the Bob Mould, WORKBOOK rhythm section bassist Tony Maimone and drummer Anton Fier-less than a year after he joined. To Buckley, it seemed like each musician was strictly interested in what they were doing as individuals on the stage. The band cohesion Buckley wanted wasn't there, so he left.
"But not because ot was a difficult situation or an unworthy situation, but precisely because it had so much potential," Buckley clarifies. "It could hsve been very, very, very fruitful. I just didn't feel I was in the right situation. It was galvanizing to not start a whole situation, but to stop all situations possible and just start from zero."
Buckley began playing the NYC coffeehouse circuit as a solo artist, which eventually garnered him a devoted following. Before Buckley knew it, noted Sony A&R guy Steve Berkowitz had become one of his fans. Berkowitz eventually signed Buckley to the Columbia label and arranged for a live recording of one of his performances at the Cafe Sin-e. A small smattering of the three recorded hours became Buckley’s debut, LIVE AT SIN-É.
Having released his first long-player GRACE earlier this year, Buckley now fronts his own band and couldn't be happier with his bandmates-Mick Grondahl (bass), Matt Johnson (drums) and Michael Tighe (guitars)-and the direction they are headed in together.
"It's a perfect band for me," Buckley says. "It's just an unsaid understanding that we like being together. And I need their views on music and their untapped potential to make music. We're different and we come from very different backgrounds, but being as old as we all are, we sort of have the same exposure to American life and American music...to the impossibilities of love and loss.
"So, we do have many things in common," Buckley finishes. "It's the differences that keep us together."
Written and submitted by Pete Chakerian
The sounds of Pakistani singer Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan drift in between the relaxed words of Jeff Buckley as he begins one of his last phone interviews of a two-day press marathon. Checking in with the SCENE from the Sony offices in midtown Manhattan, Buckley doesn't sound like an artist who's wrestled with the press for two straight days.
"(The press schedule) was my wish actually, to get it done in two days and actually achieve the illusion of having spare time," Buckley admits. "It's just an illusion."
Another illusion, in Buckley's opinion, are all the Next Big Thing kudos he hs been receiving from critics. From the release of last year's debut EP, LIVE AT SIN-É, to his first long-player, GRACE, Buckley has been swimming through a sea of these common, critical declarations. Or, what he refers to as "a cop-out to thinking.
"Next Big Thing votes are like when Boy Scouts first learn how to ejaculate," Buckley says, obviously grinning. "They just keep on doing it and doing until it gets all sloppy and stupid and your balls hurt. Boring! If that's me, then I have achieved my worst nightmare.
"Everybody's been looking for Christ since the Beatles hit America," Buckley reflects, "The kind of art that I make could never take over anything, except for maybe somebody's bedroom. Or maybe their heart. People don't know what to make of (my music), so it can't possibly be a revelation...It's a really treacherous area to interpret something that doesn't really have a language.
"My oniy advice to people," adds Buckley of the hype, "is just to ignore it. Let's see if we can have a good time together." Buckley will give his fans that opportunity when he plays Wilbert's this Tuesday, November 1; labelmate Brenda Kahn will open.
To the media's defense, Buckley’s surreal sense of honesty would have any music aficionado-writer or otherwise-blowing a fuse. His approach is unique and revealing, yet somehow, he still remains secretive within the context of his compositions.
"Everything I need is right here in my kneecaps and in my breastbone and in my head," offers Buckley. "I guess the by-product is revealing, but the object is not to reveal. It is simply to express, but everybody's revealed when they express themselves, you know? Everybody walking around, wether they like it or not-even the most covert-is completely exposed for what he or she is by their actions."
Buckley’s not interested in turning his art into a confessional. "I don't want (my music) to become a forum for me, pouring out my inner most secrets," Buckley admits. "That's something I would never do. I don't divulge secrets to the public. I divulge them to my friends, and only when it's appropriate."
Since Buckley’s first appearance on the New York music scene back in 1991-during a tribute to his biological father/troubadour hero Tim Buckley-comparisons to legendary figures like Robert Plant, Freddie Mercury and his father Tim have cropped up everywhere. With little provocation, Buckley shudders at all the comparisons.
"(It's) lazy journalism and a lazy culture and lack of courage to describe originality," he counters matter-of-factly. "Or maybe, I'm just not a good enough artist that I can buck all those things. I'm sure it's high praise, you know? Freddie Mercury was f**king brilliant."
According to Buckley, the comparisons make "easy copy" for writers. "I've read rock journalists describe my friend Craig Wedren (from Shudder To Think) as a young Robert Plant," he says. "He's about as close to Robert Plant as Doris Day is. It's just stupidity left and right."
It's not that Buckley doesn't have influences. "I grew up listening to all those people. I grew up ensconced in an era that was polluted with that music," he admits. "So be it. My own choices are evident. I just don't think that people know me or listen to me deeply enough to write rock reviews to really know the real me. But that's OK, there's time. And maybe I am totally derivative and unoriginal. Maybe the next album will determine that. I feel I'm making my own statement."
When focus narrows to the comparisons made with his father, Buckley’s tranquil voice becomes melancholy and pensive.
"Another shortcut to thinking," Buckley says. "He never taught me anything. He had another son that he taught to be a good person and he had another wife. I just wasn't included. It's journalists playing Ken and Barbie with me and Tim Buckley. It used to hurt. It used to hurt a lot. Now it's just boring. Painfully boring. It's quite an oddity, this whole situation."
It was such an oddity to Jeff at first, that he was reluctant to participate in the 1991 memorial show for his father. After struggling with his emotions, he acquiesced when "I realized that I'd never have another chance to pay my respects. I didn't make it to the funeral. I wasn't invited. So I decided to do it on my own terms. I don't think I really sang very well (that night)," he adds, "(but) it was a matter of life or death."
"Do you know what a 'kaddish' is?" he asks. "It's what the son or daughter does for the dead parent. Nobody sang a kaddish for him, and, if I didn't, I felt like that part of him wouldn't rest. And a part of me wouldn't rest."
Buckley made great strides in building his own separate identity when he joined Gods & Monsters-a band centered around ex-Captain Beefheart guitarist Gary Lucas-a short time after the tribute show. Rather than follow the circling industry vultures who attended, Buckley felt that if his notoriety was to build, it would build at his own pace, on his own terms.
Buckley’s shortlived tenure with the underground supergroup didn't provide that slow build. He split with the band-which also featured the Bob Mould, WORKBOOK rhythm section bassist Tony Maimone and drummer Anton Fier-less than a year after he joined. To Buckley, it seemed like each musician was strictly interested in what they were doing as individuals on the stage. The band cohesion Buckley wanted wasn't there, so he left.
"But not because ot was a difficult situation or an unworthy situation, but precisely because it had so much potential," Buckley clarifies. "It could hsve been very, very, very fruitful. I just didn't feel I was in the right situation. It was galvanizing to not start a whole situation, but to stop all situations possible and just start from zero."
Buckley began playing the NYC coffeehouse circuit as a solo artist, which eventually garnered him a devoted following. Before Buckley knew it, noted Sony A&R guy Steve Berkowitz had become one of his fans. Berkowitz eventually signed Buckley to the Columbia label and arranged for a live recording of one of his performances at the Cafe Sin-e. A small smattering of the three recorded hours became Buckley’s debut, LIVE AT SIN-É.
Having released his first long-player GRACE earlier this year, Buckley now fronts his own band and couldn't be happier with his bandmates-Mick Grondahl (bass), Matt Johnson (drums) and Michael Tighe (guitars)-and the direction they are headed in together.
"It's a perfect band for me," Buckley says. "It's just an unsaid understanding that we like being together. And I need their views on music and their untapped potential to make music. We're different and we come from very different backgrounds, but being as old as we all are, we sort of have the same exposure to American life and American music...to the impossibilities of love and loss.
"So, we do have many things in common," Buckley finishes. "It's the differences that keep us together."
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