Jeff Buckley, or music as true misery

As I sit here reaching for words to accurately relay the profound sadness and emotional turmoil that characterizes Jeff Buckley’s music, I find myself considering more critically the vast and seemingly unanswerable questions of music in general -- that is, often, its effects are equally physiologically, intellectually, and spiritually life-altering, given the right set of circumstances.

grcmc.org

You see, what I’ve learned from my recent exploration of Buckley’s tragically short discography is that to be in true emotional pain, and to master the art of recording and projecting that pain, is exceedingly rare. Even in the world of art and creative media. It might be the case that such readings are subjective and only individually significant. But maybe, occasionally, these individually manifested interpretations can transcend the thing itself, becoming in some sense universal, and indescribable. I’m almost certain this is so with Jeff Buckley.

Critics of the early ‘90s swooned over his unique and versatile singing style -- sharp and sustained vibrato, much like his father Tim, though with a vocal range surpassing that. I myself see this fact, along with an unorthodox verse/chorus interplay, and subtly complex poetic performance embedded in the lyrical structure of every song, as the biggest reasons why Buckley is the most unusual, and perhaps musically enigmatic, artist to come out of the 1990s. In the face of grunge, Buckley offers something more tender, soft-spoken, and articulate -- all with the same degree of contempt and heartache elicited by a society and culture that failed its angsty and romantic youth.

theguardian.com

To put it bluntly, Jeff Buckley’s music is some of the most effectively depressing and terrifyingly dead-on I’ve ever heard -- and so quick, without explanation. His sudden death by drowning in ‘97 is almost as mysterious as his only album, Grace. It’s dark, poignant, dismal, and beautiful -- it will leave you a wreck. Proceed with caution.

rollingstone.com