By Katerina Valouxi,
Before acquiring posthumous global fame with his iconic cover of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”, before the bridge of “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over” became a Tik Tok sensation and his Spotify streams surged, Jeff Buckley was an indie-rock artist who undeniably left a significant mark on the ’90s rock music scene. In 1997, he went for a spontaneous swim in the Wolf River, during which he drowned, supposedly singing Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love”. The circumstances of his death were—and still remain—something of an urban legend in the music world, a myth that has become entangled with his musical identity: that of a struggling artist, perhaps a tragically tortured soul. However, Jeff Buckley was much more than his rumored suicide.
He was born in Southern California in November 1966, the son of the popular folk singer Tim Buckley. Although the latter abandoned his family shortly after Jeff was born, father and son seemed to share common traits, such as their musical charisma and their striking vocal range, spanning multiple octaves. Ironically, they also shared a similarly tragic fate, as Tim Buckley died very young—at just 28—of a drug overdose. Even though Jeff released only one full studio album during his lifetime and did not achieve the same commercial success his father had while alive, his music resonated deeply with audiences. Rolling Stone ranked him number 39 on their list of the 100 greatest singers of all time, while his album Grace was placed at number 303 on its list of the greatest albums that were ever made. After all, he was not his father—and though their musical identities were alike in their versatility, they were also distinctly different.
The most striking feature of Jeff Buckley’s artistic identity—evident in both his music and lyrics—was his intense urge to express yearning and longing in the most intimate ways. If someone listens once to the EP Live at Sin-é—a live recording of Buckley accompanying himself on electric guitar at the Sin-é café— it is enough to realize the creative force he was and how the sheer magnitude of his voice filled every room he performed in. His music has a dreamlike quality. Songs like “Mojo Pin”, “Grace”, and the posthumously released “Dream of You and I”—which he claimed to have seen and heard in his dreams—are characteristic examples of his dreamy storytelling.
Buckley never rushed when singing. Instead, his voice always lingered where the song needed it most—when the yearning he expressed for his beloved became unbearable, usually during the bridge or toward the end of the song. In those moments, his voice was accompanied by a blend of commanding percussion, persistent strings, and strong guitar—either acoustic or electric. The instrumental components of his songs often seem to express even more than what he is trying to say—everything his already painfully expressive voice cannot articulate. In “Last Goodbye”, his vocals verge on a cry for help before he frustratedly asks, “Did you say, no, this can’t happen to me, did you rush to the phone call?”— in hope that the person he is singing to had second thoughts about abandoning him. Undoubtedly, his music is best appreciated with a glass of wine on a rainy day.
In the same song, he pleads: “Kiss me, please kiss me, kiss me out of desire, baby, not consolation”. A common theme in his songwriting is his obsession with both wanting and being wanted in return—feeling seen, acknowledged and having his desire reciprocated. Buckley’s lyrics not only express yearning but a profound longing: a vague yet familiar sense of missing something one may or may not have experienced before, and craving to experience it again—or for the first time—despite the memory or thought of it being painful.
His lyricism is not only poetic but also carries a literary quality, filled with oxymorons and language that often resembles prose. “You’re a woman, I’m a calf / You’re a window, I’m a knife”, he writes in “Morning Theft”, a song for Elizabeth Fraser, lead singer of Cocteau Twins, with whom he had a tumultuous yet intimate relationship. The two even recorded a song together, “All Flowers in Time Bend Towards the Sun”—never commercially released—in which he sings, “All flowers in time bend towards the sun, I know you say there’s no one for you, but here is one”.
What makes his music resonate so strongly with young listeners is not just his powerful voice or his love songs, but the way he perfectly captures the experience of being in your twenties—trying to navigate love and adulthood. “Too young to hold on, and too old to just break free and run”, he says in one of the most striking lines of “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over”. He finds himself caught in between, trying to appear mature while still feeling like a child, unsure of what to do next. Buckley’s lyrical talent is brilliant, and every one of his songs contains lines that demonstrate it: “Man, you’ve made a killer of your unborn son” from “Eternal Life”, “Born again from the rhythm / Screaming down from heaven / Ageless, ageless / And I’m there in your arms” from “Mojo Pin”, and “My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder/ She’s the tear that hangs inside my soul forever” from “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over”, are just a few examples of his innate ability to write some of the most heartfelt lyrics of all time.
Jeff Buckley also covered songs by absolute legends of the music world, creating his own versions and including some in his studio album—such as Nina Simone’s “Lilac Wine” and Bob Dylan’s “Mama, You’ve Been On My Mind”—covers that are now considered classics. He also recorded an unreleased cover of “I Know It’s Over” by The Smiths, his beloved band, which he claimed made the ’80s worth it. In an interview, Jeff once said he wanted to be remembered as “a good friend”—and as Morrissey sings in “I Know It’s Over”, “It takes strength to be gentle and kind”. Jeff may not have lived a long life, but he is certainly remembered and cherished—not only as a remarkable artist, but as a good, gentle, and kind soul by everyone who has listened to his music and continues to do so.
References
- Throwback: Remembering Jeff Buckley. SMNW. Available here
- Biography. Jeff Buckley. Available here
- Here Is One: The Story of Elizabeth Fraser & Jeff Buckley. The Peeling. Available here
