The Lost Son

Spex, August, 1994
By Jutta Koether
Submitted by Niella
Translated by me

Jeff Buckley has a handicap that is both a weapon and a means. His appearance and his voice are eternal; more than a resemblance to his birth father, the singer-songwriter and shifter between folk, jazz and improvisatory music, Tim Buckley, who died of a drug overdose in 1975, when Jeff was eight years old. Although, or perhaps because, he had to cope with such a father-cult-myth, he has developed techniques and decision making patterns that are amazing and interesting. Despite all the coquetry that goes into it, Jeff Buckley is completely cynicism-free. The New York Times titled an article about him "The Unmade Star." Solving the dilemma and working with it at the same time is the result of his story.

"How do you even know about me?" When he asked this at the beginning of the meeting, it sounded like a joke or a request and a question he probably did not have to ask himself. But I did not go into this father. I wanted to find out what it's like to be able to ignore this fact and later-as a stylistic problem-pick it up. At some point he started to talk about it, but neither said the name nor called "father" but only "he". That "his" music was not the one he grew up with. That he did not even find it particularly interesting. Not today. That his mother, Mary Guibert, who completed a classical piano and cello education, and his stepfather, a Led Zeppelin fan, were much more responsible for direct influences. 

Jeff Buckley took a lot of time for all sorts of detours. For a while, Miles Davis was his idol. But he also worked in hardrock and reggae bands, went to a guitar school in LA Excessive fan-tum. Exhausting enthusiasm for jazz, blues, and finally learning to listen to big voices: Billie Holiday, Louis Armstrong, Judy Garland, also Bob Dylan, Robert Plant, and Van Morrison. It was more than private enjoyment because it maintained his ambition, constantly corrected him.

You can see Jeff Buckley running around N.Y., in the East Village, with a blaster and a briefcase of about 50 CDs. He loves and praises his turf as the only currently inspiring place. The moment we left the Indian restaurant, Fifth Street was lit up with Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan.

He is also known to at least once a week, sometimes even unannounced at two in the morning in Sin-e, a kind of Irish club coffee shop, to show up and just make a gig. So it was before he was a recording artist (Columbia / Sony) and went to the studio. The not-so-long story goes like this: in 1991 he made the decision to put forward the exorcism. Before that, he could only negate and hide his origin / properties; now he was ready to express and exploit them. He fully understands that the part of the attention given to him is "his" heritage. In any case, the raw materials, where it can be driven, is another matter. So it should be the voice that has this pure tenor, which ranges at least two octaves and is loaded with a sentimental repertoire that ties in with the "old guys", redesigned according to Jeff Buckley's rules. The first significant gig in N.Y. was a Tim Buckley tribute concert hosted by Hal Willner at St. Ann's Church in Brooklyn. Buckley played for a while in Gods and Monsters, the band of Gary Lucas. In 1992, the solo performances began. For a handful of dollars, you know.

Buckley has a propensity for the dramatic on the stage, for EXPRESSION. This enables him to interpret other people's songs from Van Morrison to "I Loves You, Porgy" to a Sufi chant or an obscure Elton John song as well as to perform his own. The special equal treatment of the others and his own voice becomes clear on his 4-song debut "Live At Sin-e". A juxtaposition of two of his own songs, Edith Piaf's "Je N'En Connais Pas La Fin" and Van Morrison's classic "The Way Young Lovers Do". Oh, gut wrencher. Oh, heartbreaker. Although one might now think it's a clever thought or something and how piggy pretentious it all sounds, that is not the case. Rather, it sounds like an expression of the place where sentimentality and minimalism come together without the grand conceptual idea.

Meanwhile, he has also collected his own band. With Mick Grondahl (bass) and Matt Johnson (drums). Woodstock produces the first "full" LP produced by Andy Wallace. A matter that Buckley found extremely divided at the time of the conversation. As if it annoyed him, as if he already wanted to be somewhere else again. "Flying Away" is one of his favorite motives. "Every time someone tells you they love you, the 'I love you' flies away, you wait until the next one comes." This is how it is in life and with the making of plates. Although the LP is barely out, it has already flown away from him for a long time. He writes on new songs, even harder. In the way he insists on the raison d'être of the ultra-personal in public.

His solo live time, he says, taught him how to force the audience to share responsibility, how to feel it as part of the experience of the performance. And now it's up to the band to try: "I want the band to be willing to go into these intimate places, to learn how to make 'big magic in little areas', things nobody can forget!"

So much for the practice of public idealism. How this all goes together, even embarrassing things in something beautiful, or can coexist, can be understood better when you look at Jeff Buckley's true hero / father: Above all, he is a Gerorge Carlin fan! (This was a TV comedian in the early 1970s whose super-successful "routine" was that of the hippie.) And that sooner or later all of this will turn into a star-profile / image / persona is already clear.

Pierre's Autograph

Courtesy of Pierre Laplace 

Red Wine & Poetry

Raro, April, 1995
By Fabio Massimo Arati
Submitted by Niella
Translated by me

The artistic and human events that accompanied the advent of Jeff Buckley in the international rock scene are so unusual and singular to have aroused, before it even started, a huge interest from critics and the public. At a time when most musicians feel the need to play in a group, Jeff emerges as a soloist: voice and guitar. His music is a modern reinterpretation of overseas folklore, experienced not only from a musical point of view, in the celebration of the love song, but also from the attitudinal one, in the way of life, or at least to appear, that is so reminiscent of the wanderering minstrel, that he has nothing but his guitar.

Jeff is a child of art only by accident: his father, Tim, now a legendary cult figure, by any follower of American auteur rock, died when he was still very young; anyway, due to complicated family intrigues, the two only managed to live together for a few weeks. So, intrigued by such assumptions and crazy to see him perform on stage, I went to Cesena to attend, last February the only Italian date of his tour and especially to learn something more...

"I never thought I should be a musician."

Yet ever since he left home at the age of seventeen, he has played in various groups, first in Hollywood, then in New York, then facing the small group of small clubs in the East Village as a soloist.

"In New York I played in a myriad of tiny pubs and clubs, but I didn't think I would become a professional at all, I never planned anything like that!"

In early 1994 Jeff made his debut with Live At Sin-è, a four-track EP that captured an exciting performance in a New York coffee shop, Sin-é. The album, which contains two original tracks and two covers, has been released in England by Big Cat Records. A few months later comes "Grace", the first formidable 33 LP that immediately has countless successes around the world. Feelings and passion arise spontaneously from his songs; Jeff is able to alternate electric moments of dazzling intensity with acoustic episodes of intoxicating sweetness. All this is magnificently interpreted by his splendid voice, capable of reaching notes and tones unknown to most singers today.

"Music always comes from the experiences of people, beautiful or ugly, as far as I'm concerned, I don't even distinguish between them: my songs can be considered sad or happy, it depends on the mood of the listener...actually, it can happen that it's happiness that hurts people!"

It is no coincidence that his songs clearly express an inner reality linked to everyday life, so that music becomes integral to his very existence.

"I usually write down what happens to me day by day and from this I then draw inspiration to write; this, however, is a process that requires a long time of maturation and a lot of reflection, for this reason I can never write anything when I'm on tour: I'm too busy with other things."

After the publication of "Grace", last year the young Buckley had already been the protagonist of some concerts on our continent, also playing in Milan. In the early months of '95, a new tour took him to twenty different European cities. The event follows a few weeks after the release of the first single taken from his album; it contains, besides the title track "Grace", the unpublished "Tongue" and the magnificent "Kanga-roo", written by Alex Chilton.

"Very often it happens that in large stadiums or in the Palasport, people gather together only to attend an event, and not to listen to music. I am not able to play in certain situations, I can not transmit what I would like. In large spaces, what is most important is the way in which the show presents itself, the music comes to the background. This is why we love to play in not too big places. We feel more comfortable in small rooms, although often the acoustics are not the best. Sometimes it happens that some cities do not have adequate rooms to play, but in the end we always manage to find one..."

The plural is mandatory as Jeff is accompanied by the same musicians who played in his debut album: Michael Tighe on guitar, Mick Grondhal on bass and Matt Johnson on drums; now together they form a real band.

"Working live is a completely different experience: in the studio you record everything on a tape, which is then modified with further overdubs, so as to always get the best...Live it's another story: every single day, every evening is different from the others; the songs, the concerts, become almost human entities, and you have to treat them as such..."

In fact, the emotional intensity that the artist is able to express on stage is far superior to that which emerges from the disc, as the greater the power and the hardness of the sounds.

"We do not have a fixed lineup, I immediately decide which songs to play...there is no precise ritual: maybe we start for a few days with the same piece and then we decide to change, usually we also do a couple of songs that are not included on the album. However, our concerts are always electric: I have not yet found the way to make an acoustic set...I have the impression that, in places where we usually play, it would have a rather miserable effect..."

Jeff answers the questions in a veiled voice, while tasting a glass of red wine. His fascination with James Dean hides a certain melancholy, perhaps linked to the countless pressures due to such a sudden success.

"I am happy with the work I do, and also with the responses I am getting: this success, I assure you, has come completely unexpected ... on the other hand I am worried about the way in which many people risk losing their heads. I can not always control the things that happen around me, everything happens so quickly and this worries me a little."

Often journalists from all over the world worried about finding affinities between the new star and his illustrious predecessor. But Jeff does not like to talk about his father at all and certainly prefers to be remembered for what he really is, rather than for the fame of his surname. It is for this reason that his relationship with the press has never been too cordial.

"It's not true that I'm mad at journalists, it's just that I do not like the way they treat people. And as if they were judging something with which they have nothing to do, of which they know absolutely nothing! Music is a terrible individual experience, but people want to say their own without having the faintest idea of ​​what's really behind it, without even knowing its creator! We artists can not do anything for this situation, we limit ourselves to continuing our work. This however does not worry me too much: I do not even read the reviews, even if it often happens that my manager arrives and tells me: read here and reflect! For me, the real torment of the music industry, on the other hand, is the innumerable pressures that one has to suffer..."

His glass of red wine is now empty. The meeting ends here, Jeff says goodbye and walks away.

Musikexpress Review

February, 1995
Submitted by Sai
Translated by me

"A good song is characterized by the fact that you are in dire need of it. It inspires your heart, mind, and life, "states Jeff Buckley, a 28-year-old who believes in the great virtues of song writing in the tradition of the great American folk singers, one of whose most illustrious was Jeff's father, Tim Buckley. However, the son does not want to be associated with the father, who died 20 years ago. "His music alienates me rather than that it inspires me," says Buckley Junior.

Instead, the up-and-coming Folkie developed his very own idea of ​​music. From the beginning. That's how he got to know the singer life: from the bottom up. For two years, the folk visionary worked alone with his acoustic guitar on the pub and café house scene of the Lower East Side in Manhattan. Afflicted with the cult star's reputation, Jeff Buckley finally formed his three-piece backing band, with which he recorded the debut 'Grace'. Shortly after its release in the autumn of 1994, the album was given the title of "particularly valuable" by the collective critics' guild.

A judgment that also applies to Buckley's stage presence. Live, Buckley delivers brittle compositions between folk, blues and forgettable rock songs, which are enriched by the band with psychedelic elements and very subtle noise attacks. And that with infrequently heard intensity. A Distinctive trademark, however, is Jeff's striking multi-octave voice: full of burning passion, Buckley expresses his longings for love and hatred, melancholy and grief in the highest tones.

Postcard to Holly

The stamps though...

Mucchio Magazine

November, 1994
By Marco Denti
Submitted by Sai
Translated by me 

Languid and sharp guitars, a bluesy air, Leonard Cohen, a small and efficient combo of rock 'n' roll and a voice that offers not a few reasons to foresee this bright young man (son of art only by chance) a bright future.

It has been a long time since we missed those songwriters, visionary and a bit 'moody, that form a variable not better defined in rock' n 'roll. People who come to us by series of fortuitous coincidences, by mistake or because, otherwise, they would have no place to go, as then testify their lives: too involved in the dramas of life, unable to distinguish poetry from reality, cosmic needs from everyday follies . Many names could be mentioned but they would all take us back to the past with a thread of sadness, to say the truth a little too excessive. Instead it becomes obligatory to talk about Jeff Buckley: born near Disneyland, a young voice of an existential malaise raised between New York and Los Angeles, first (and hopefully, not least) example of a songwriting that has established links with the past (for a certain background sensitivity) but is very current in every other part of it. It is definitely worth checking out by listening to Grace, his brilliant autumn debut: languid and sharp guitars, a bluesy air, Leonard Cohen, a small and efficient rock 'n' roll combo and the voice, that of Jeff Buckley, which offers not few reasons to foresee a bright future for this young man (son of art only by chance). Or dark and deep: certainly and in any case, very intense because, and Grace is a very effective testimony, Jeff Buckley knows how to write songs that speak for themselves and tells of a world so intimate and personal (his) with a grace and a such force as to make it perfectly recognizable, as if we had seen it, as if it were our own. Far from the exercise of memory, what seems to differentiate in sharp measure, Jeff Buckley from all the fathers putative (or not) is the different position that the music, the songs occupy in life, For them, for the singers of the pink moon, of the dolphins and of the solid air was a curious introspective means, a closed circle of emotions, a sort of self-protective nirvana. For Jeff Buckley, on the other hand, it seems to be a liberating catharsis, the raw expression, the need to express an interiority otherwise frustrated by the obviousness and the inevitable expirations of life with which, sooner or later, we must come to terms. Grace is the first verification of the state of things for Jeff Buckley and a little jewel of true, intense music, not far from what we would like to be poetry. Certainly not in the strictly lyrical sense of the term, but rather the only imaginable reality, that is a valid reason to believe that, despite everything (but all really) the world still has some of that grace sung by Jeff Buckley.

It is difficult to distinguish how much Grace is the work of a single singer-songwriter from the more complex one of a band. There's your name, all right, but the songs seem to be the result of a much more collective work. To what extent did the musicians influence your work?

When I moved to New York, in 1990 and the Lower East Side, a place where I felt at home more than anywhere else, I started playing alone: ​​it was the cheapest and most immediate means, but the music I love and that I've heard has always had the support of a band. Sponaneity and dynamics increase significantly when you are in a group and a common attention is required that always keeps the tension high. So even though Grace was not expressly conceived for a band, the group was casually formed while we recorded it. Playing with the band makes the music more coagulated, more dense and Grace has grown so, practically live.

In fact, before Grace there was that four-song album Live At Sinè that in some ways it can be considered a real prologue to your debut.

Yes, it was recorded in an Irish coffe shop in the East Village, where they played three shows per night, a place where I was at home with the band. The choice to record Live at The Sin-è was our own, a decision that wanted to feed something to all those rumors that were beginning to circulate on our behalf. It was a response to the attention and how to stop a small moment in the history of the group and our music.

Grace is a disc full of nuances, with a profound strength in songs and sounds. In a word, it sounds very inspired. What stimulates you, at least in the initial stage of songwriting?

I do not know, it's hard to say. All the songs come from life, from my life, from what is awakening in me, from observation and everyday experiences. I feel a spirit that grows to understand, to learn and no matter what the topic you are facing, whether it is a political question or the story of a friend: they are still part of life, of what you are.

Is the same speech for the music? I mean: Grace is very homogeneous and yet there are obvious fragments of the music you listened to, apart from Hallelujah, obviously.

I have a free pier approach to music because I am convinced it is not just any convention. Personally I am not trying to define a particular form, somehow rigid and precise. The songs are my forms: the music is used only to touch those keys deep inside. It is an experience very close to the trance. So, if I have to express myself at the level of names I would say Robert Johnson, Bob Dylan, Thelonious Monk, Clouds and For the Roses by Joni Mitchell, Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, but it's a vague and completely temporary list. My musical aesthetic is an attempt to stop the beauty of a moment, a sensation, an emotion.

So it is not abstract to consider Grace a collection of love songs, perhaps in the broadest sense of the word, therefore also including the negative and dark sides. I think of Mojo Pin, Last Goodbye and So Real, for example.

Mojo Pin, yes, it's a love story but I can not distinguish it from any of Grace's other songs. For my part, I grew up without the concept of sin, it is not something that I brought with me, in my background, until today, so I find it hard to stress what I express in my songs. I do not think rock 'n' roll is a disease, I do not think sex is evil, I can not conceive of a separation between god and satan, I can not think that there is something negative about music and emotions.

But the perspective changes: in Dream Brother or in Eternal Life you express yourself in a very clear way to situations now frozen, blocked, under control. There is no room for many other interpretations.

Well, the story of Dream Brother is very explicit because it is also very personal. I had a friend, we played together in the same group, we went around every day. Now he has a lot of children and he has disappeared somewhere. We do not see each other anymore. Mine was just a reflection, regardless of the choices. It is easy to disappear or get stuck, controlled. What you can do is move, stay in motion, look for a way out.

Is it the same basic theme that returns to Eternal Life?

Yes, in a sense. It's so easy to get lost, and it's so easy to get lost, and it's so easy to waste time and, in time, your imagination. I often think of all these people sitting in front of the television. Seated still. This is the common idea of ​​Dream Brother and Eternal Life: life is hard. It is dying and growing, and today, it is easy to die before you grow up.

There is an uncommon sensitivity in what you say and in what you sing. How do you manage to reconcile being a musician, then having to endure all the inevitable pressures in the field with such a marked sensitivity?

The pressures exist, it's true. However, this is a job where you have the opportunity to express yourself and I am happy to be in this business as I am. It's hard, it's difficult, of course, but it does not mean anything. Music helps us understand who we are. What can be done is to sift, to watch and, if necessary, to refuse. Because what we are intimately can not be faked or bought.

Tower Records Autograph

From Tower Records Westwood