For me, Grace is one of those albums. I remember exactly where I bought it (a long-defunct used-CD store-- remember those?-- on Long Island), what the weather was like that day (windows-rolled-all-the-way-down sunny), and the tingly feeling of discovery while listening to it. A lot of people felt that same way, and when Jeff Buckley died three years after its release, his tragedy only added to what would become a bittersweet obsession. I tore through David Browne's thorough biography, . I bought 2000's stellar live album, , the day it came out. I watched the intense DVD with big eyes. I went to several Jeff Buckley tribute nights in Chicago, where a variety of local talents interpreted their hero's work with sometimes-great, always-reverent covers. I could not get enough of this singer who was equal parts mystic, hippie, romantic, comic, and goofball. And then I got enough.