Cesena

By Federico Guglielmi

From his blog, lultimathule.wordpress.com

Translated by me

  Jeff Buckley is a son of art, but on this subject he prefers not to mince words: not because he wishes to erase his kinship ties with the late Buckley Sr. (how could he, with that face and voice?), but because his relationship with his father Tim-known only by hearsay and hearsay(?), because he disappeared when he was still a child-have been too brief and too fleeting to influence him. Chromosomes, however, do not lie, as attested by the beauty and personality of Jeff's songs: intense and insinuating music, reaching into the deepest and most hidden recesses of the mind and heart, ranging from folk to avant-garde, from free-jazz to quasi-psychedelia, from intimate ballad to rock. It is no coincidence, then, that young Buckley has already won a place of honor among the stars of the 1990s, thanks to his two splendid records-the 1993 mini-CD Live At Sin-é and the 1994 album Grace-and to his charisma in holding the stage: a quality, the latter, also amply brought out in his Cesena concert last February 17, which captivated the large audience and offered the writer the long-awaited opportunity to meet and converse with him. Albeit for less than half an hour, and as part of a press conference made quite chaotic by the noise of soundcheck and the rumblings of a Vidia still being set up.

Is this your first time on a challenging tour like this?

No, the second one. In fact, the third, if you also consider the solo concerts of the first half of last year.

Hot comments?

It was outstanding in France, and it went very well in Germany as well. In Britain, however, it was harder, too much pressure...I mean because of the attitude of the press, the public had nothing to do with it.

Anyway, are you satisfied? 

Apart from a few setbacks, I am really enjoying myself. I enjoy playing, and besides, having to focus on the tour keeps me from dealing with other problems: for example, what I will have to do when I return home, or prospects for the future.

Is that what you've wanted since you were a child?

No, not at all. I never thought of anything like that as a child.

 
How is it, then, that you find yourself in this situation?

I honestly don't know. It happened like that, without deciding anything at the table. It has always been a definite choice of mine not to plan my life more.

Do you feel more comfortable as a soloist or a band leader? 

Almost all the music I like best is by bands. The soloist, however capable and eclectic, precludes himself a lot of possibilities, and is too limited by the obligation of having to hold up the entire show. It is good to experiment together with others, to expand the instrument-park and to be free to indulge in one's own sonic whims while the group thinks of everything else...provided, of course, that the companions are the right ones.

What, in your case, are the differences between recording in the studio and performing live?

Working in the recording room is very similar to composing: you go step by step, adding or removing something until you arrive at a synthesis. On the stage we let go, and the changes depend more on the feeling of the moment than on reflection. My concerts are very improvised, although song structures and setlists do not undergo major changes.

Have you already started writing for the new album?

Not yet. I take a lot of notes, but the actual songs have yet to come. As I mentioned to you earlier, life "on the road" gives no respite, and allows no room for anything else.

In your opinion, is Jeff Buckley's music of joy or melancholy?

It depends on the piece, and the mood of the listener...but, at the end of the day, I'm not sure that's really the case. Agreed, some things suggest sad images, but often even happiness can hurt someone.

Your opinion on success?

I am happy with my business and the reception it has received, but I am also concerned: in such situations it is all too easy to lose your mind and become something different, and worse, than what you were before you achieved notoriety. I am flattered and surprised by all these endorsements, but success-at least in the most common meaning of the term-doesn't interest me that much: playing and telling what my heart tells me is much, much more important.

How do you deal with what's written about you?

I generally try not to read it. I believe that music is something highly personal, and I don't like anyone taking it upon themselves to explain to others the merits or demerits of my songs, or to tell them whether or not they are worth listening to. The intent of every artist is to make works that will be remembered in time, that will somehow remain in history; magazines, on the other hand, are meant for quick consumption, cannot rise above the subjects they cover and make assertions and judgments that are too categorical.

What about video clips? Do you also consider them a "necessary evil", the price you pay to be known?

No, I'm not that extreme. The problem with videos lies in the fact that, since they are mostly a kind of "visual translation" of the song, they kill the imagination and hinder freedom of interpretation; this does not mean, however, that a clip cannot be ingenious-just think of those by the Residents-or that it must necessarily show off dozens of beautiful girls and who knows how many expensive special effects. As far as I was concerned, I wanted something simple and atmospheric, in tune with the way I understand music.

 With his air somewhere between the vanished and the maudit, which the malignant will deem a bit constructed but which to yours truly seemed entirely sincere, Jeff Buckley bids farewell to the platoon of journalists just when his passionate flirtation with a bottle of red wine had begun to make him less wary and more talkative. A couple of hours later, in front of an ecstatic audience, he will immolate all of himself in the cathartic ritual of the live show, parading with authentic, infectious emotional transport an intense and seductive repertoire like few others. Auteur rock imbued with flair and poetry, mostly subdued and enigmatic but also ignited by sudden bursts of vivacity, over which Jeff's singing twirls like an unattainable phoenix evoking ghosts of the past - a Song To The Siren almost on par with his parent's, as well as the now classic Hallelujah by master Leonard Cohen - and scattering around him new gems of dazzling splendor (Mojo Pin, Eternal Life, Last Goodbye). He's already great, Jeff Buckley. So great that more than one, mesmerized by the solemn mysticism of his Grace, has already elevated him to the rank of Messiah. Who knows if Our Lord would be satisfied with the role, or if he would reluctantly accept it like the protagonist in that old Richard Bach novel.

Taken from Audio Review n.149 of May, 1995

Vidia, Cesena, 17 February 1995

There were quite a few of us, and certainly not out of mere curiosity, eagerly awaiting the only Italian date of Jeff Buckley's European tour; young and old, arriving at the Vidia with the notes of the splendid Grace echoing in our hearts and with the certainty that we were about to witness something different, and bigger, than the usual rock concert. What was immortalized in Live At Sin-é, the splendid debut mini-CD of Our Lord, could not, after all, have been a joke of chance. 

They vibrated almost to the point of breaking, the strings of the soul, on the evening of Feb. 17: not only because of Jeff's velvety charisma, the extraordinary intensity of the repertoire and the reckless balancing acts of a voice that almost fears no comparison with the mythical and unforgettable one of the never-too-missed Buckley Sr, but also for the joy of verifying-no small feat-how this cynical and plasticized world is still capable of conceiving true artists, and how music-biz still has the ability to recognize them and the desire to promote them despite their absolute refractoriness to the games of calculation and fashion: pure and brilliant artists like Jeff Buckley, who turn performance into a catharsis with a mystical flavor, and songs-however nervous, melancholy or pained-into touching hymns to joy and life. As also in the case of Song To The Siren "stolen" from that father known only by heard and hearsay(?), which proposed as a surprise in that of Cesena even tore us a few tears of emotion.

Taken from Noise No. 39 of April, 1995