| When
I met Jeff Buckley
November
2000
by Mike Webb
 My
relationship with Jeff Buckley started when all the women
I worked with at Columbia Records were going ga ga because
handsome Jeff was in the building. What was all this fuss?
Just because a guy was good looking? I wanted to know
if he had any talent, cause good looks (on a man or woman)
is not a good enough reason to listen to someone's music.
So
my first chance to hear him came when he decided to record
his debut EP at Sin-e', a very small club in the East
Village of New York City. I came to the club pretty determined
not to like him, and left a fan for life. He was awe-inspiring.
I described it as Ella Fitzgerald meets Jimmy Page, and
I actually (if not accidentally) went up to him after
the show and hugged him. I'd never met him, and didn't
really mean to, but it was a very moving gig, and he was
kind of drained, and we just did that manly 'right on
B' kinda hug.
So I was kinda psyched the next time I saw him at a rehearsal
studio in Alphabet City. I went up and said hello, reminded
him I worked at Columbia, and suddenly got the coldest
of cold shoulders that I've ever gotten (maybe only surpassed
by Rosie Perez as she turned her head to look as far away
from me as possible when I smiled at her). The frozen-ness
of the moment spilled over to my bandmates who I will
love forever for asking me if they should go kick his
ass.
Luckily my next encounter was with the music. I started
working for Steve Berkowitz, Buckley's A&R man, right
about the time Jeff started the Grace recording
sessions at Bearsville Studios in Woodstock, NY. Every
week producer Andy Wallace would send down mixes of what
had been recorded, and it was obvious that this was going
to be an amazing debut album. The sessions started with
Jeffy recording all by himself. He did about 30 takes
of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah", and all 30 or so were
pretty different (the album version is a composite of
the best parts of 3 takes). He also recorded 3 or 4 versions
of "Corpus Christi Carol", and several other cover songs
that would not make the album –"Calling You", "Sweet
Thing", "Night Flight" and "Alligator Wine." Jeff's ability
to get inside the music, and express the emotion of the
songs really shone threw on these solo songs, so I couldn't
wait to hear what was to come.
Next, the band went up and the full recordings came in.
And they were great. A masterpiece was being created right
under my nose. Best of all, it was the skeletons of songs
– the final touches had yet to be added. Berkowitz
became excited about one song called "Forget Her." It
was the hit song. Every album needs a hit song, and this
was it. A pretty basic song - verse, chorus, verse –
standard blues rock ballad structure, and a broken-hearted
love song to boot. All the elements of a hit song. Berko
just wanted to add a screaming guitar solo to the middle
section, and all would be complete.
"Mojo Pin" and "Grace" (both lynchpins from his previous
band Gods & Monsters) came next, and then two different
versions of "Last Goodbye", a cover of Nina Simone's "Lilac
Wine", "Lover, You Should've Come Over", and the horrible
"Eternal Life" all came through on tape. ("Eternal Life"
would continue to evolve, but the version on this album
has almost nothing to do with the nature and meaning of
the song. The original version on the Live At Sin-e'
EP has the sadness & passion, and the live band version
has the anger – but this song stands as the lone
mis-step on Grace).
So now the album was just about ready to be mixed and
mastered and introduced to the public at large. But young
Buckley felt the album wasn't quite ready – hadn't
quite been cooked enough. In fact, he decided "Forget
Her" needed to come off the album. He thought it sucked
and he hated it. But Columbia smelled a hit song, and
wasn't about to let it get away from them. Battles ensued,
Buckley allegedly cried his heart out, and Berkowitz decided
to err on the side of an artist making a creative statement
rather than on the side of commerce, and the song came
off. Young Buckley wasn't going to leave the label starved
for a key track though, and asked if he could go in and
record 2 more songs. Thus came the beautiful "So Real"
(with its terrific buzzsaw acoustic guitar solo), and
the phenomenal "Dream Brother" (with it's foreboding vision
of death in the line "asleep in the sand, with the ocean
washing over").
Andy Wallace's final mixes of the songs took away some
of the intimacy of the recordings. He's a hit song mixer,
and these weren't necessarily hit songs. The general range
of sound is crowded right into the middle of the mix so
that's it's ready to be played on the radio. Yet it's
not an album that was ever really meant for radio. Grace
has it's own meaning to lots of different people –
girls in the throes of a relationship breakup, guys who
found their sensitive sides in Jeff's music, and all the
people who still like to be moved by soulful, thoughtful,
heartfelt music.
There's something about Grace that really seems
to touch people. The regret of a soured relationship in
"Last Goodbye" is as easy to relate to as the longing
for an ex-lover expressed in "Lover, You Should've Come
Over." It's so easy to relate to because the singing
is so skillful and transcendent - you feel as Jeff feels.
Buckley had the voice of an angel, and there probably
has never been and will never be a male singer as talented.
Grace is one of those rare debut masterpieces.
It's sickeningly sad to think about what would have come
and what he was capable of doing. The posthumously released
Sketches For My Sweetheart The Drunk, shows a
glimpse, but it never got the chance to cook enough –
it simmers, but doesn't melt on the tongue like Grace.
Jeff Buckley's death is one of the great tragedies of
rock'n'roll. Luckily, we'll always be graced by the short
time he was with us on planet Earth.
(Mike Webb is a volunteer staff writer for 2 Walls
Webzine)
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