The cause of Jeff Buckley’s death is almost laughably banal in the context of the many other deaths of major rock stars. The famous Club 27 with Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain and finally Amy Winehouse is the tragic spearhead of what cost the lives of numerous other professional colleagues over the decades – alcohol, drugs, depression. That’s exactly why Buckley’s death is particularly frustrating. In his case there is no explanation. He neither died of an overdose nor – contrary to several theories – did he take his own life or was he even murdered. Jeff Buckley died because of an accident that people would like to undo.
Jeff Buckley is growing up
Buckley was born on November 17, 1966 in Anaheim, California. His father Tim was a musician himself and recorded several well-received albums in the late 1960s. Because his parents separated soon after his birth in 1966, he only spent a week with his father – shortly before his death. Tim Buckley died of a heroin overdose in 1975. Later, his son, on the one hand, distanced himself from the work of the ancestor, but on the other hand, honored his memory. “We’ve been separated all our lives, and now we’re on a shelf next to each other. But he should have his own subject, and I should have mine. Or do I have another chance to pay my respects?”
He didn’t have that. Despite all his efforts to keep his distance, Jeff Buckley remained close to his father, especially with his singing. Already the first recordings – his own songs “Mojo Pin” and “Eternal Life”, Van Morrison’s “The Way Young Lovers Do” in a meandering 10-minute version – were reminiscent of Tim Buckley’s manic exercises in their tormented endlessness. In terms of talent, son Jeff was certainly in no way inferior to his father. He began playing the guitar at the age of five and, as he reached puberty, finally decided he wanted to become a musician.
New York, New York
In his youth, Buckley played in various bands in the Los Angeles area – from reggae to jazz to prog rock. After school he attended a music college. A time that, in retrospect, he saw as a huge waste of time. It was not possible for him to find himself as a musician there, which is why he sought his fortune in New York from 1991. Previously he had primarily played guitar, but on the East Coast he discovered his four-octave voice. Primarily at the Sin-é club in Greenwich Village, he played sets of cover versions and a few of his own songs night after night. Led Zeppelin, The Smiths and Elton John were his key influences, who now met new singing role models such as Van Morrison, Robert Johnson and Billie Holiday.
Word of Jeff Buckley’s performances spread quickly. Soon the A&R managers from the major record companies were descending on Sin-é to hear for themselves who their next coup would be. Columbia Records won the race and signed Buckley in October 1992. The first EP “Live at Sin-é” was released in 1993.
“Grace”
Work on “Grace” began in 1993. The first versions of his songs remained unfinished and were re-recorded with a band for the debut; In terms of emphasis and intensity, they were of course hard to beat. His slim EP “Live At Sin-é” was a promise, but fulfillment quickly followed: On “Grace,” Buckley’s songs, including cover versions, are formulated and arranged – an almost perfect, almost too pathetic debut album. He sings Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” and Benjamin Britten’s “Corpus Christi Carol” with religious fervor; there is no doubt, no break, no deconstruction. At concerts there was a reverent, painful silence when he just let his voice vibrate, an androgynous, crying voice – again people thought of their father, also of Morrissey (whose “I Know It’s Over” Buckley also sang), of Van Morrison and Nick Drake.
With “Grace,” his only full-length studio album, Jeff Buckley has secured a permanent place in pop history. Not easy fare: melancholic melodies and thoughtful lyrics about unfulfilled love. But the ten fragile songs between folk, jazz and rock are so beautiful that David Bowie would take “Grace” with him to the desert island as one of ten albums. The Heidelberg jazz musician Karl Berger, who was responsible for the string arrangements, remembers: “Jeff was musically very open and knew music from the classical avant-garde to modern jazz. He let me write whatever I wanted.”
The apprenticeship years are over
In fact, Jeff Buckley announced that he would no longer record cover versions in the future. “My apprenticeship is over.” Jeff Buckley sometimes seemed like a premature finisher, as if he knew he didn’t have much time. Excited and overwhelmed at the same time, he completed the media obstacle course for the publication, gratefully registered the euphoria – and was no longer completely himself. Of course there are the clever naysayers who predict the demise of a tender soul in the maelstrom of industry – but Jeff Bucley wanted to go into the light, not back to the bars and bars of his beginnings.
“Lilac wine, I feel unsteady, where is my love?” Buckley complained like Nina Simone once did, “I cannot see clearly.” We heard back then that he couldn’t do it with fame, he was too nice, too sensitive, too fragile. A dreamer perhaps. But not the only one. Buckley quickly won himself over and reached people who might not normally be interested in songwriter music – and especially the rock audience who felt comfortable with Lenny Kravitz’s deft recourse and which was so important to him. Greatest dimensions, even in the American homeland, seemed effortlessly achievable.
A premonition
Still, there was a strangely long silence after all the commotion surrounding “Grace” was over. Three years is a time that no record company would recommend for a follow-up album, no matter how successful. Even record buyers have short memories. However, the final production of a new album was now scheduled, so the songs were probably completely written and in demo status. And Jeff Buckley won’t escape becoming a legend either. Already the intimate friends appear numerous and affable.
In perhaps the most beautiful song, “Lover, You Should Have Come Over”, Jeff Buckley already sings his epitaph: “Looking out the door/ I see the rain falling upon the funeral mourners/ Parading in a wake of sad relationships/ As their shoes fill with water/ And maybe I’m too young/ (…) Sometimes a man get carried away/ When he feels like he should have his fun.”
Jeff Buckley dies in Memphis
In May 1997, Jeff Buckley was in Memphis, Tennessee. With his friend Keith, Buckley was on the way to the studio where production of the new album was to begin. The two stopped at a marina, where Jeff jumped into the water with his clothes on and swam around laughing and singing for about 15 minutes. Keith maintained visual contact. As passing boats created waves, according to the press release, the friend brought a cassette recorder placed on the shore to safety. He didn’t see Jeff again after that. When his calls were unsuccessful, he alerted the police after ten minutes. An extensive search for Buckley remained in vain for a week, then certainty prevailed. Meanwhile, the authorities reconstructed the accident: an undercurrent created by the boats pulled the swimmer under the water.
Buckley’s mother, Mary Guibert, said: “I realized that my son will not emerge from the river again. It’s time to celebrate a life that was once in a lifetime.” She also asked that no rumors or assumptions be spread beyond what is evident. It was emphasized that Jeff Buckley’s disappearance was not related to alcohol and drug use – a not unintentional explanation.