A little over a week ago, fans of the late singer-songwriter Jeff Buckley celebrated the 30th anniversary of his first album Grace. Grace is one of my favorite albums of all time. I believe it’s under-recognized in the media today because of Buckley’s untimely death.
The mainstream media do not talk about him much in today’s day and age because of the limited music he left us before he died in 1997. “What ifs” shroud his legacy as he only had the chance to create his debut album and demos for his second album My Sweetheart the Drunk.
Artists like Michael Jackson and Kurt Cobain gave audiences a full musical evolution before their deaths, with peaks and bottoms covered in popular media to the fullest extent. Buckley saw a short eclipse before drowning in the Mississippi River.
There are two songs I want to highlight in particular because I can remember the precise moment I listened to them. My parents didn’t raise me on Buckley (despite my father’s persistent claims that he played his music with me as a child) and it took me until age 17 to get around to him.
In an early version of Lover, You Should’ve Come Over, Buckley performed to a small crowd at Sin-é, a now-closed music venue in Manhattan’s East Village. Buckley reveals his pain in every turn of the lyrics and folks who saw him live then claim they always knew he’d be a star.
This track has always stuck with me. The first time I heard it was in May 2023, roughly 30 years after its conception. I was driving home from my buddy’s house and had a 90s alt-rock/grunge mix on shuffle. As he describes his regret and angst as he wishes he could bring his lover back to him, I could feel the passion take over. Buckley’s vocal inflection on this song falls second to no one.
The final chorus of this song always hits home for me. No matter where I am, I’m always teleported back to a desperate, vulnerable, begging for mercy-feeling when I hear it.
“Yes, I, I feel too young to hold on,
And much too old to break free and run,
Too deaf, dumb, and blind to see the damage I’ve done,
Sweet lover, you should’ve come over.”
So Real falls in a similar category. Buckley reminisces about a past lover and every aspect of her. Her scent, clothing and memories. He falls into a cycle of thoughts that’s dragged back to life with his repeating chorus of “oh, that was so real,” and has arguably his best vocal performance of the whole album in the final chorus.
This song feels personal to me beyond longing for a lover. When I made the five-hour trek back to college as my summer ended, It felt like I wasted my break not living in the moment. Although time has passed and I don’t regret a moment I spent during my vacation, I recall the desire for one last moment with my family and friends back home. To me, it was so real and I let it fall under me.
Brad Pitt gave a great quote about Buckley’s work in a posthumous movie they did about his life saying; “There’s an undercurrent to his music, there’s something you can’t pinpoint. Like the best of films or the best of art, there’s something going on underneath, and there’s a truth there. And I find his stuff absolutely haunting. It just… it’s under my skin.”
Buckley’s near-gospel vocal range creates opportunities for those raw, unfiltered moments of weakness that make me feel like I know the man personally. In reality, I don’t know who he is; I didn’t live on this planet at the same time as him and I surely don’t know who the subjects of these songs are.
I revisit this record frequently. I share a close bond with it and most people I talk to know I hold his music to a different standard.
The full record is worth a listen if you’ve never heard it, or if it feels like a blast from the past. His cover of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah is one of his most well-known and respected tracks. Deep cuts like Eternal Life and Dream Brother give the record the full cohesive sound it deserves.
To some, Buckley came and went. To me, there will always be a desire for more music from him.
Photo credit: Merri Cyr