“…there`s the Moon asking to stay,
long enough for the clouds to fly me away;
well, it`s my Time coming,
I`m not afraid…
…afraid to Die.
…my f a d i n g voice sings
…but she cries to the clicking
Today is the tenth anniversary of the death of Jeff Buckley… who, before his untimely death at the tender age of thirty, was believed to be one of the most promising artists of his generation. He left a legacy of artistry that continues to inspire singers, songwriters, and guitarists to this day.
Critically acclaimed and commercially viable in his own time, Buckley stood at the beginning of what was sure to be a long and illustrious career. At the height of this pinnacle, Jeff Buckley drowned during an evening swim in the Wolf River Harbor tributary of the Mississippi River.
I first heard of Buckley during my Senior year in high school, his song “Grace” (from the album of the same name) was on a mix-tape that a friend of mine had prepared for me… and I loved what I heard.
This was a songwriter with a certain soulful sensibility that was rare in those clunky “post-Grunge” years of Nirvana-lite and diet Pearl Jam cola.
As soon as I could, I purchased the album… staying up all night in my bed with my headphones on to devour each song again and again.
I arose in the Dawny hours bleary-eyed (with a mild case of tinnitus) and went for a long swim, as the music of Jeff Buckley echoed in my mind.
When Buckley died, I was heavily distracted by my own furious state of affairs to lament his passing… but I have wondered at it every since.
Heartrending and not without a certain painful absurdity, though I confess I found a certain poetry to the picture of him floating downstream to his death… like some mad Orpheus, singing even to his doom.