Growing up, my parents only played Indian music in the house. Every day after dinner, my mom would put a cassette into our sputtering tape player, and the evening would dissolve into green apple dish soap (really good flavor of dish soap) and Seinfeld reruns humming over old and beautiful Indian hymnals. Objectively being a lame jackass at this point of my life, I was pretty concerned about the lack of American music played in our house. Why wasn’t I growing up with classics like the Beach Boys and Kenny Chesney and fucking Rascal Flatts like other Missouri tweens?? I begged my parents to find some American music they digged to play after dinner instead. My dad offered up unexpectedly weird songs like “Follow Me” by Uncle Kracker and “Bubbly” by Colbie Caillat. Discouraged but mostly alarmed, I turned to my mom. She gave me “Rasputin” by Boney M. and “Hallelujah” by Jeff Buckley. It wasn’t until a few years later that I could appreciate the brilliance of “Rasputin,” and when I first listened to Jeff Buckley’s “Hallelujah” at my mom’s insistence that it was one of the most beautiful songs in existence, I was ready to scoff at it (see above, re: lame jackass). But those 6 min-
Ever Jeff
Matter Buckley
by Urmila Kutikkad
utes and 33 seconds did to me then what they still do to me now: they gave me real, palpable chills. Probably I’d never gotten chills before. Probably I didn’t understand what art and feeling and beauty of depth were before I heard this beautiful man’s take on a beautiful song. Probably I didn’t think my mother could understand. I don’t know what it was, but hearing that song for the first time changed my life. It’s a cliché fuck you! Exploring Jeff Buckley further, I began to understand that “Hallelujah” wasn’t a fluke of beauty or a one-hit wonder. Jeff Buckley is an unreasonably and improbably talented musician. His first album, Grace, is one of the best out there. His guitar-playing is learned to the point of improvisational brilliance, his voice and range (especially the upper register) are beautiful, and his songwriting is honest and impassioned. What has always set him apart, though, is the way he sings. I can’t think of a single other musician who can draw so much shivering emotion out of plain words and notes, who can coax the goosebumps out of otherwise warm arms, sing with so much tremulous emotion that you’re afraid it might spill over. There’s something compelling and overwhelmingly genuine about Buckley, a soft-spoken Californian boy, and his premature death lends even more emotion to his music. Even now, years later, I’m gripped by a sense of calm and simple emotion every time I listen to Jeff Buckley. His beauty is never not novel; it’s too genuine to ever lose its power. Aka you gotta listen to Jeff Buckley!!
Here is where to start: “I Know It’s Over” “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over” “Mama, You’ve Been On My Mind” “Mojo Pin” “If You See Her, Say Hello” 10
Illustration by Sam Watson
Nothing Will As Much As
