... in Words: Tributes "Beautiful Dreamer, Your Time Has Come," by Richard Jinman This interview was originally published in Sydney Morning Herald, 3 June 1997.
Presumed drowned, singer Jeff Buckley will join his father in the realms of ghostly silence, writes Richard Jinman. Two years ago, Jeff Buckley condemned the obsession with rock musicians who die young, leaving promise tantalisingly unfulfilled. "The cult around a dead person is ravenous, irrational and to a point I detest nostalgia as a leading punch," he told Britain's Mojo Magazine. "Now is the time." Now, however, all the signs seem to be pointing to Buckley's joining the ranks of beautiful dreamers whose time has come. Buckley knew more than most about the Shelleyan obsession with the dead poets' society. In 1975, his father, singer/songwriter Tim Buckley, died after snorting heroin. He was 28. In the mid-1980's he was resurrected as one of rock's enigmatic cult figures but, during his lifetime, Buckley pere had often been written off as a promising but erratic "could-have-been." Jeff Buckley, 30, barely knew his father. He was raised in caravan-parks by his mother and stepfather and was reunited with the musician only two months before his overdose. When he began performing, however, his surname soon attracted attention. A section of Buckley Jnr's audience -- he mockingly described them as "baby boomers expecting the second coming" -- were drawn to his concerts in search of his father's ghost. "They're lost in their own past, refusing to grow up, refusing to let go, refusing to see me as I am," he said. Tim Buckley inhabits a curious annexe of the "sad club" peopled by celebrated rock casualties like Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and Kurt Cobain. Alongside fellow cult figures such as England's Nick Drake, American Gram Parsons and original Pink Floyd member Syd Barrett, who fried his brains on hallucinogens in the late 1960's, this quiet corner of rock'n'roll Babylon regards negligible record sales and anonymity as admirable qualities. They provide the mystery and sense of exclusivity which fuel the fascination. And despite his protests, Jeff Buckley now seems destined to win a place at his father's table. He was last seen on Thursday, "singing and swimming on his back" after wading into the Mississippi river fully clothed. Memphis police had still not found his body yesterday, but a spokeswoman for his Australian record company says a statement from the singer's management is expected "within 24 hours". The reaction from local fans was immediate. When Triple J began leading its news bulletins with his disappearance, the station's switchboard lit up. "There's been a huge public response to it," says a spokeswoman. "We've been inundated with people calling up to find out any news." And the Jeff Buckley sightings have already started. One eyewitness report posted on the Internet put him in San Diego, although not, admittedly, at a Seven Eleven. At the time of his disappearance, Buckley was recording a follow-up to his brilliant 1995 debut, Grace, which spent 56 weeks in the Australian charts, peaking at No. 9. The follow-up was highly anticipated and if this new material is ever released (the record industry's track record suggests it will be), each line will inevitably be scoured for intimidations of impending disaster. Then there is the manner of his disappearance: swallowed in an Ophelia-like state by the waters of America's best known river? As a mystery, it begins to rival the disappearance of Manic Street Preachers frontman Richey Edwards, who checked out of a hotel in February 1995 and has not been seen since. But Jeff Buckley has more in common with Drake, Parsons and his father than fragile good looks and a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve. If he does become a cult figure, it will be due primarily to his extraordinary voice (often compared with Van Morrison's, but far sweeter) and a songwriter talent which was beginning to rival his ability to interpret other people's work. His audience was broad because he combined the late '60s West Coast sounds and a deep romanticism (Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell were among his heroes) with the harder edge of post-Nirvana alternative rock. Reviewing his first Australian concert in August 1995, the Herald's Bruce Elder described Buckley as an "immensely gifted performer who effortlessly seduces and mesmerises his audience". "Like his father, Buckley understands the importance of sonic textures," he wrote, "He whispers and wails. His guitar roars one minute and drops into silence the next." Today that silence seems shockingly final. ©1997 by Sydney Morning Herald. All rights reserved
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