Jeff Buckley was a diva. And a particularly fanciful one at that. I remember reading about the late soprano Maria Callas and Buckley fave Edith Piaf, the fragility of their demeanors, and the notion they were more precious, tender than the world around them; that every moment within earshot of their voices was like hearing the song of the most rare and beautiful bird in the world. In fact, Piaf as the "Little Sparrow" was the most obvious blueprint for Buckley's flighty, unabashedly emotional expression; in both cases, whether your reaction was to adore or abhor the often raw (but never adolescent) bouts of melo- and other kinds of drama, no one could say they held their hearts in check. Consequently, they needed lots of maintenance. In Buckley's case, it was a steady stream of collaborators, girls, gigs and an impressive reserve of torch songs from way back when. He really wasn't built for the strand of rock music borne of rebellion or release; he was a songbird, like the kind that used to receive roses and blown kisses from the debutantes in the balcony after performances.
Unlike Callas and Piaf, Buckley grew up in an age when the chanteuse didn't need an orchestra or a symphony hall to get their message across. After having cut his musical teeth in Los Angeles, he came to New York in 1991 and soon hooked up with guitarist Gary Lucas, eventually joining his band Gods & Monsters. Lucas and Buckley established a partnership that produced some very good songs (including "Mojo Pin" and Grace's title track) in a very short time, but before they had a chance to make it out of the city, Buckley quit the band over a disagreement regarding his future loyalty. Afterwards, he played solo gigs, sometimes incorporating friend and bassist Mick Grondhal, and assisted by a growing legion of nighthawk fans, was soon signed by Columbia as a solo artist.
1993's Live at Sin-e EP gives the best idea of what Columbia's A&R; rep must have seen in Buckley at the time. At shows, he was the picture of a high diva: sprawling, boundless and with more than a pinch of self-conscious glitter. However, as he revealed in The Making of Grace, the behind-the-scenes feature that leads off the third disc DVD in Columbia's new "Legacy" edition reissue of his debut full-length, he needed a band. He already had Grondhal, met drummer Matt Johnson through Grace executive producer Steve Berkowitz, and, midway through recording the album, brought in guitarist Michael Tighe (who eventually contributed "So Real", to which Buckley added a chorus and put on the record in place of the bluesy "Forget Her"). Producer Andy Wallace speaks on the documentary about his concerns over how much of the record should reflect Buckley's solo performances, but true to form, the singer wanted it all.
Somehow, despite an overflow of ideas-- they needed three different band setups available at all times to accommodate Buckley's various moods-- the record got done. And it was released. And thousands of open-heart romantics heard their ship come in. As it happened, Grace was received with mixed feelings from critics who probably thought they were getting the next great alt-rock savior, and instead felt they'd received dinner theater for the moody crowd. They had a point: For all its swells of emotion and midnight dynamics, Grace was not a record to rally the post-grunge alternation. It made a jazz noise where a rock one was expected and a classical one where a pop one might have sold more records. MTV snagged "Last Goodbye", Grace's most radio-friendly song by a considerable margin, but Buckley was predestined for a cult stardom.
Grace's strengths have been well-documented over the years: The flawless choice of cover songs, including the definitive reading of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" (that we learn on the documentary was actually chosen based on John Cale's 1991 version from the Cohen tribute I'm Your Fan); the mystic, blue textures of "Mojo Pin", "So Real" and "Dream Brother" that seemed as related to Led Zeppelin as to Scott Walker as to Buckley's father; Wallace's sympathetic, intimate production and the band's equally sensitive following of Buckley's lead. And of course, he sang the hell out of those songs. His voice turned upward songs that naturally leaned inward; his reading of Nina Simone's "Lilac Wine" transformed from misty cocktail lament into transcendental experience, and the unlikely recasting of English composer Benjamin Britten's "Corpus Christi Carol" into ambient lullaby.
And, as this reissue proves, for every bit of lightning trapped in a jar, Buckley was willing to try his hand at many songs with which he held a weaker grasp. Firstly, he fancied himself a rock star, and the second disc of this set includes endearing, but ultimately inessential readings of the MC5's "Kick Out the Jams", a pretty silly Screamin' Jay Hawkins impersonation on Leiber & Stoller's "Alligator Wine", and a speed-metal take on "Eternal Life". His version of Big Star's "Kanga-Roo" nails its weary grandeur, but goes overboard on the ensuing 11-minute jam session, effectively transforming it from intimidating wall of drone into a meandering, albeit unfinished and tentative giant. He sounds best interpreting songs like Bukka White's "Parchman Farm Blues", Simone's "The Other Woman", and Bob Dylan's "Mama, You Been On My Mind", though his own take on the blues-- the previously unreleased "Forget Her"-- sounds comparatively pedestrian.
So, the question becomes how frustrated you are willing to be with Buckley. His posthumous releases suggest what Grace did: that he was one of the most talented musicians of his generation, while also being one of the most impulsive and, often, maddeningly inconsistent. Is he really being served by the uncovering of outtakes, B-sides and live performances? Fans certainly think so, but I won't cop to listening very beyond his lone completed record these days. And it bears emphasizing that its rewards have lost nothing in 10 years. Grace remains one of the most engaging, inspired records ever made, and its 10 original songs serve as the best possible portrait of Buckley as a diva, songwriter and artist.
