“Community Life” (excerpt)

*

“People Like That Are the Only People Here: Canonical Babblings in Peed Onk”

*

Jeff Buckley, In Memory

Posted on May 29, 2007 by sheila

This is for my sister Jean, who called me at 7:30 am today to tell me that today is the 10 year anniversary of Jeff Buckley’s death.

On a rainy night in Chicago many years ago, my friend Ted (now the BLOGGER Ted! ha!!) and I went to go see some singer I had never heard of at The Green Mill. His name was Jeff Buckley. He had a couple of tiny albums out – recordings of live shows he had done at Cafe Sin-� in New York – but he was about to have a large album released – the album that would be called Grace … and so he was on the cusp of stardom. Ted had heard something about Buckley on NPR, I think – so we got tickets and met up to go see him.

It is, to date, the most amazing live show I have ever seen.

Jeff Buckley’s voice is rightly famous – it has a kind of eerie Brideshead revisited choirboy-with-an-evil-streak sound – his “Corpus Christi Carol” on Grace has to be heard to be believed. What? That’s a grown man?

But what I want to talk about is the VIBE of the show Ted and I saw. We still talk about it today. We still reference it.

A lot of people were pissed off at Jeff Buckley that night. But Ted and I were enraptured. Buckley was there, at the bar, mingling, hanging out. In looking back on it – I think he knew that stardom was about to hit. The tourbus parked outside was indicative of what was about to happen. But he seemed so … small, almost – dwarfed by the bus, by the circumstances appraoching. He was freaked out. Freaked OUT. He had just given an interview to Rolling Stone and had apparently said wildly inappropriate things to the reporter. Success was coming, man … and don’t we all want success? Well, sure … but what success actually means, in the reality of the day to day life, is not always welcome … it’s intimidating, it’s scary, and artists oftentimes are people who have trouble with reality. That’s why they’re artists. Stardom comes with responsiblity, with lots of have-tos, with obligations, with loss of anonymity (Goldie Hawn talks about how she used to go to a little grubby bar in Malibu – before she was famous – have a glass of wine by herself, sit staring out at the waves, and write in her journal, working out any problems she might have at that moment … it was one of her meditative healing things to do. To her, stardom was always a great great blessing … but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t mourn that anonymous self … the person who could go have a glass of wine alone, write in her diary, and not have someone take a picture of it, sell it to a tabloid and have it appear on the newsstand the next day: GOLDIE HAWN DRINKS ALONE – or whatever. Hawn is not an ungrateful person – but she does grieve that loss of solitude.) – Harrison Ford talks about this quite eloquently, and with no self-pity. “It took me years to be able to cope with the loss of privacy.” It’s a sacrifice. Not for some – some glory in the reality-TV aspect of stardom … but for others it is a soul-crushing experience that separates them from their fellow man. Jeff Buckley was in that latter category.

So there he was, doing shots at the bar – talking with people, but … you could sense things shifting. He wasn’t “normal” anymore … he couldn’t blend in … he was not anonymous. He had been playing shows at Cafe Sin-� … a teeny joint in New York … where the musicians who are gonna play sit out in the audience, guitars propped up against the wall … and just walk up to the “stage” when it’s their turn … The blending of audience and performer is complete.

This world was already receding for Jeff Buckley on the rainy night at the Green Mill.

And like I said – success of course is desirable. Exciting. But it’s more complex than that (for some).

I’m talking about this like I sat down and had a conversation with Jeff Buckley about his thoguhts and feelings. I did not. This is what I gleaned from his behavior that night – his brilliance of performing – his obviously self-destructive tendencies – but also his beautiful human need to connect. It was all going on at the same time. And ALL of it went into his performance. ALL of it. I have never seen anything like it. NOTHING was excluded. He didn’t judge any of his own emotions – fear, anger, sadness, excitement – as inappropriate for his show. It was like watching a master-diva at work – a Judy Garland or someone like that. No matter what came up in Judy Garland – she used it. EVERYTHING was to be used. Other, more careful, artists … craft performances in a more intellectual way. And many of these artists are brilliant, too, in their own way. But to see a raw nerve – at work – and to see him struggle – OPENLY – with all of this … in front of us …

Like I said, a lot of people ended up being pissed off at him because they wanted a conventional show. They didn’t want him to talk in between sets about how freaked out he was, they didn’t want him to suddenly stop a song he was singing, announce, “God, that sucks – let’s start it over again …” and then start the song over again … They wanted a straight show. But Jeff Buckley couldn’t have given a straight show if you paid him a million dollars. He was honest. He was true.

There were a couple of moments where I got goosebumps – because I was watching a man truly grappling with himself. In front of us.

And – I must mention this: he sang the HELL out of all of his songs. That voice.

As an actor – watching him up there – and watching how private he was, even in public (that’s the definition of good performance art as far as I’m concerned – the ability to be private while people are watching you …) was something I have never encountered before or since. He had no polish. NONE. The record company who had obviously funded this tour – and funded the tour bus – was probably trying to iron Jeff Buckley into some kind of appropriate behavior – Buckley seemed to feel the enormous institution behind him … and there were obligations there, and responsiblities – he was no longer a free insane agent … He had to show up, he had to get back on his mega-bus, he had to do the songs the record company wanted him to do …

The show was chaotic. He got heckled at times. “SHUT UP – JUST SING THE SONG!” shouted from the back. Buckley didn’t fight back – he didn’t engage the heckler – not in a “hey, fuck you, man, I’m up here doing my thing” way … He apologized – profusely – kept saying things like, “I suck … Im so sorry … I just suck …”

But then – he’d sing “Lilac Wine” and you’d find yourself standing there, stunned at what you were witnessing and hearing.

Buckley was grappling with some demons there. He was drunk. He announced to us, at one point:

“You guys, I’m so sorry, but I am drunk. D – U – R – N – K. DRUNK!”

He started to sing Leonard Cohen’s “Halleluia”. But … but … he just wasn’t being true … it didn’t feel true to him … or something … so he stopped the song. “Stop stop stop stop …” It was like he was almost in pain – so far away was he from his own ideals. I am thinking of Odets in Hollywood, writing trash. Spiritual death. So what Ted and I saw (and we went out and talked about it all night afterwards, in a diner down the street – as the rain splashed against the windows) – was a man trying to imagine himself, work himself, closer to his own ideal in his head. And if that meant starting a song over – even though there was a whole crowd there – so be it. What we were seeing was not a finished product. He would not BE a ‘product’. He was in process.

Buckley said at one point, “I want to give everybody their money back … i am so sorry about the show tonight … I suck so bad …”

This could not have been farther from the truth. It was self-indulgent, yes – but any artists process MUST be self-indulgent. How else will you know what works, what failure feels like? You have to GO there. It was unconventional – that he would GO there during a show, and not during a rehearsal or whatever … but to expect Jeff Buckley to be conventional in any way, shape, or form, is ludicrous. I watched him up there, alone by the mike – with that stunning James Dean-esque face – the innocence of it, but also the wildness – and how he would throw himself up towards those high notes, launching his voice up fearlessly into the octaves above – eyes closed, body slack and open – letting it happen, letting it come … and I remember wondering: God, what is going to happen to this boy. This special wild boy. This is not just retrospect talking. The whole night was like that. Buckley told us about the interview with Rolling Stone, he seemed to be having a nervous breakdown almost – about the impending fame … It was like we were getting to see him in a small club for the last time. He was going. He was going somewhere else now. Buckley felt the loss of that.

He handled the heckling with grace – but he also didn’t change his approach. He didn’t “get it together”. One song he started to sing – and for whatever reason – he felt like he needed to sit down – so he crossed his legs, and sat down – with his back to the audience, and sang the whole song in that position. Beautifully, by the way.

It was his way, it seemed, of getting back into his private world.

His band was amazing. They just went wherever he went. If he stopped a song – they stopped, started over, whatever.

The best thing of it was this: They started to play one of his songs – I think it was “So Real”. Like I said, I didn’t know Buckley’s music at that point. But I loved the song immediately – and his voice just pierced right through me. That voice. Holy God. Ted and I stood there, lost in it (many of us were lost in it – the hecklers in the crowd were few and far between, although they were loud) – and maybe after a verse and a chorus, Buckley said, in a “oh, fuckitalltohell” tone, “God, stop stop stop … ” He wasn’t an indignant arrogant maestro. He seemed like a little boy, hurt, because his mom interrupted his make-believe game of knights and dragons with the prosaic request that he set the table. He was BUMMED that … he wasn’t being transported. He had a requirement of his own art. So anyway – he stopped the song. Which had sounded FINE to me. He was in pain. “God, that sucked … we SUCK … ” (heckling) “I know, I know, you guys … I’m so sorry … Let’s start it again …”

They started the song again. And the hairs on the back of my neck rose up. It was as though Jeff Buckley had realized that going into the song he was a bit cloudy, in terms of motivation, or … sound … and he needed to clear the deck. He needed to FOCUS … so that he could “go there” in the song. And that’s what happened after the interruption. The band almost blew the roof of that tiny club. Jeff Buckley stood up there – a shaman, a madman, a choirboy with a direct line to heaven and hell – wailing to the skies, catapulting his voice up, down – his gestures free, fearless, uninhibited – and yet totally specific and germane to the song. When he “got it together” – by taking that pause – when he cleared the deck of everything extraneous and unnecessary to his performance – the genius that came, the power of that voice, gives me goosebumps to this day.

I was so sad when he died. So so sad. I imagined him … swimming in the current, drunk, stars wheeling by overhead … I can’t say I was surprised – because there had been a wildness in him, and a potential for unhinged grief – you could sense it.

But I miss him. I miss the albums he didn’t make.

To me, Jeff Buckley was always that wild pale-faced boy, doing shots at the bar, on a rainy night in Chicago, many years ago. A tour bus looming outside. Change coming, change coming so fast … and yet … in the moment, there was just him … on stage … trying to transport himself into the world that he imagined.

This entry was posted in Music, On This Day and tagged Jeff Buckley. Bookmark the permalink.

← The Books: “Sugar and Other Stories” – ‘The July Ghost’ (A.S. Byatt)

I forgot to mention: →

29 Responses to Jeff Buckley, In Memory

Emily says:

May 29, 2007 at 10:45 am

Buckley’s death was one of those that felt like someone had punched you in the stomach. I mean, no one would have been surprised to hear that Courtney Love or Vince Neil bought the farm, but Buckeley? Ouch. Didn’t see it coming.

I think something people forget about fame, because they see the money, the adoration, the attention, is that it doesn’t spare anyone from human frailty. Just because you’re rich and famous doesn’t mean you’ve been given some cure-all panacea that suddenly prevents you from ever experiencing lonlieness, heartbreak, exhaustion, sadness. The worst part is, celebrities usually have to endure this in a very public arena where they are being judged by people who have no clue who they really are, who think that because this person is famous, it’s okay to mock their pain or consider it entertainment. The best of them take it in stride, realize how lucky they are, ultimately. But I can totally see where Hawn and Ford were coming from, losing that anonymity — deciding you can just run over to the grocery store for mayonnaise and some bananas in your track pants and flip flops without US Magazine running a cover story about how you’re falling apart a week later.

red says:

May 29, 2007 at 10:52 am

Tennessee Williams writes a lot about the “sensitives” of the world – The too-alive people, the people with no protective armor. The Blanche duBois-es of the world – He was one of those people himself. I felt like Jeff Buckley was too – he was trying to stay still and strong and open in the middle of the coming maestrom of fame – only very very well-adjusted people can handle such a loss of privacy with grace and ease …

but the best part of seeing him perform was how TOTALLY he would lose himself in the performance.

When he DIDN’T lose himself is when he would stop and say “let’s start again”.

There was something in him that would not allow him to phone it in, or be phony, or whatever – even if we, in the audience, might not have known the difference. HE would have and he couldn’t bear it.

It was thrilling to watch.

Emily says:

May 29, 2007 at 11:18 am

I never saw him live. It sounds like an amazing experience.

red says:

May 29, 2007 at 11:19 am

The “D – U – R – N – K” moment is something I have quoted often since then. So funny.

brendan says:

May 29, 2007 at 12:52 pm

i still vividly remember the news going around the office (remember the hub sheil?). word came through that a young white male rock singer had been found dead.

and someone said, ‘god, i hope it’s beck.’

terrible but funny.

i saw buckley in an in-store record shop performance open to questions. that was a hoot. someone asked him what he felt about being named one of people’s 50 most beautiful people and he said something like ‘mortified’, or ‘that is totally retarded and i don’t give a crap.’

one in a zillion.

and his father has inspired me to parody old crappy folk singers many times over the years. tim buckley was a backrub boy. jeff buckley was probably conceived after a renaissance faire and a backrub.

red says:

May 29, 2007 at 12:55 pm

Bren – backrub boy! HA!! I still remember your imitation of one of Jeff’s dad’s songs.

“And the fairies pranced along the way ../ The drawbridge opened day by day More knights, more lassies twirling round …”

whatever – it was hysterical.

red says:

May 29, 2007 at 12:57 pm

Also love the random E at the end of “fair”.

Kate P says:

May 29, 2007 at 1:39 pm

Great post, Sheila.

I had just started listening to the local public radio station in Philly toward the end of my undergrad years in college when they announced his death–and while I didn’t really know who he was, I got the impression that this was significant. (Weird that there’s no mention on their website and I didn’t hear any mention of it today, but I only listened on my lunch hour, so who knows?)

And I’m sure my late friend Jessica who was the one who started dragging me to concerts and got me listening to ‘XPN (I drew the line at the annual Folk Fest and she didn’t push) probably would’ve wet herself laughing at Brendan’s comments.

Sharon Ferguson says:

May 29, 2007 at 2:08 pm

Ok had never heard of him until now – Im a musical retard anyway LOL – but have looked him up iTunes…

SOLD, Sheila. Totally SOLD.

red says:

May 29, 2007 at 2:10 pm

Sharon – Oh God I’m so excited you discovered him!!

mere says:

May 29, 2007 at 3:36 pm

wow! I cannot believe it has been 10 yrs. He was unbelievable.

jean says:

May 29, 2007 at 3:43 pm

Thank you, Sheila. I knew you could explain what it was, that “thing” he had. I remember the People Magazine/tabloids making a big deal that he cried at an awards show – most people just don’t understand the “sensitives” – the ones who are overwhelmed by life. His songs let me know he was like that…wish I had seen him.

red says:

May 29, 2007 at 4:02 pm

Mere – I know – I remember when I heard he died, and it seems … like it CAN’T have been 10 years ago. Because that would mean that I am actually OLD!!

Amazing singer and performer.

red says:

May 29, 2007 at 4:18 pm

Jean – thank you for the reminder!! I needed a nudge this morning – and I was like – Oh, I know immediately what I have to write about, and that’s seeing Jeff Buckley at the Green Mill.

Incredible live show – unforgettable.

Su says:

May 29, 2007 at 6:29 pm

Thanks for the great post, Sheila. I was suprised to learn it’s been 10 years already…I was so young when I first listened to him and it really left a mark, though I don’t have the music play often these days – maybe it’s time to go looking for those CDs…thanks for the wake up call! ;-)

PS: I like what you said about Tennessee Williams, immediately “Cat on a hot tin roof” came to mind: “Oh, you weak, beautiful people who give up with such grace…” – love his writing.

red says:

May 29, 2007 at 7:15 pm

Su – exactly – “weak beautiful people” – exactly!

Jon F says:

May 30, 2007 at 10:47 pm

This is one of the best, most descriptive, wonderful, sad posts of yours that I’ve read.

Ted says:

May 31, 2007 at 8:43 am

I’m finally back from the land of dial-up and can read your memorial and post back. Michael found a clip of JB singing Dido’s Lament from Dido and Aneas on You Tube, I’m going to post it at my blog and add my memories of the concert – one of the best things I’ve ever seen, and the most influential. It changed the way I thought about acting for ever.

Ted says:

May 31, 2007 at 11:52 am

great post – brought tears to my eyes just thinking of that night. Check out the recording of his I posted – had you ever heard it? I hadn’t.

Micah says:

July 2, 2007 at 11:18 pm

I’m probably the youngest person here. I’m only 15. Man do I want to cry really badly knowing that I couldn’t witness his presence and beauty live. I’ve been a Jeff Buckley admirer for more than a year, but it already feels like a lifetime. Now that he’s gone, I’m more than frustrated and saddened that there’s no more of him and his music post-Grace and Sketches for My Sweetheart the Drunk. Imagining what he might have sounded like today is so stressful. I really feel like my heart is being dumped in a plastic bag, suffocating.

maja says:

August 4, 2007 at 6:04 am

Thanks Sheila. You’ve written a beautiful and honest account of the miracle known by the name of James Buckley. The best thing I’ve read about Buckley so far.

Julia says:

October 15, 2007 at 7:53 am

not long time ago I got to know jeff buckley’s music and I keep thinling how come I didnt’ hear his amazing voice years ago… it was so sad then to read how he died… so young, so much potential, so much to give… but I guess even his death matches with the person he was… I just want to thank sheila to share with us the experience you had at his concert… unfortunatly I won’t ever be able to live it as you did…

christine says:

December 4, 2007 at 2:41 pm

wow. thank you. jeff is my elvis. i only discovered him in 2000. my then boyfriend and i used to commute an hour and half to work together and would listen to wers, the local college station. one morning 7 years ago, wers played hallelujah, and that boyfriend of 5 years had just broken up with me. i can’t even begin to express what jeff’s voice did to me, and for me, in those moments, in that seemingly unending car ride on a cold and gray november morning. i have been in love with him ever since. i dole his music out to myself slowly, knowing he’s gone, and dreading the day when there will be nothing left that i haven’t heard. your description of his performance gave me chills. it sounds like exactly how i have imagined it would be. as a singer, he’s everything i want to be, not necessarily technically, but in that channeling the force of the universe through a raw nerve kind of way. thank you.

red says:

December 4, 2007 at 6:48 pm

Christine – your comment moves me greatly. Buckley was so beloved – thank you so much for sharing your experience of him. It’s a wonderful tribute.

j says:

April 3, 2008 at 7:25 pm

You have definately captured alot of what jeff meant to me, thanks for sharing your story.

Philippe says:

August 17, 2008 at 12:14 pm

Hi there

I found your text by chance while doing an internet search about Jeff. I’m French, and Jeff’s music was introduced to me by a friend in 1997 when I was in Birmingham, England. When I learnt about his death by opening the neswpaper, I had just started to find how deeply I was touched by him and his voice but I knew that that piece of news was something terrible. It’s much later that I cried, realizing we all had lost a wonderful human being and an outstanding artist. Really terrible loss. But his singing and music will continue to inspire generations, it’s just too strong to be forgotten.

Thanks too for the post.

brandon says:

December 1, 2008 at 4:54 am

Buckley is becoming more and more popular it seems. Sad how it all worked.

I didn’t hear of buckley until I was already gigging and working out my style. The moment I heard Mojo Pin. I went back to the studio and thrashed everything we’d done. I started over completely. 8 years worth of work, destroyed by an honest soul, than demanded MORE love MORE questions. MORE reality.

Buckley has been a guiding light to those that refuse stardome. And refuse to be idle.

This was a wonderful post. Thank for the time it took to write it all. It was very very revealing. It is nice to know he was human. And not some god-son untouchable.

Thank you

-Brandon

Agnes says:

January 6, 2009 at 10:26 am

I’ve been a Jeff Buckley fan ever since I heard “Last Goodbye” (ironically, it was the time I was on a vacation in the US in May 2008 – so imagine how shocked I was upon learning of his death only a few days after I first heard his music!)

I started off just liking Grace (the album), and through the years, actually, after seeing the BBC Documentary on him, I have gradually fell in love with him, his songs, his voice and (I dunno why but it was because of the Mercury Lounge show bootleg) guitar slinging.

I haven’t seen the guy perform live, and now would settle with recordings of the shows and YouTube vids. But upon reading your post, I seem to have a deeper understanding on how his only wish was to share his talent… without really understanding the price to pay when fame set in. I’m not sure how he felt as he floated on that river, but something tells me that he was still in that overwhelmed state. Maybe it was in that position (of being overwhelmed) that made him do crazy, unexplainable stuff…

Is it odd to say that I miss him, even if I have not even seen nor heard of him when he was alive? I dunno but that’s how I feel now.

Over the holidays, I had a Jeff Buckley fest on my own, and honestly, his covers of “I Shall Believe” (the one on the phone) and “Calling You” crushed my heart every time I heard them, and up until now, the sorrow I feel over his passing is much greater than how it was in 1997.

Agnes says:

January 6, 2009 at 10:27 am