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2001-08-05 / 1:02 a.m. ~Consumed, in company~ Having seemingly endless time on the internet, only my eyes and back suffering, I once again searched for Jeff Buckley anything. What I'm finding is that many, many, no, really, many people, men and women, were really taken with this guy. His voice, yeah, sure, his visage (I can't spell the sound that comes forth from my vocal chords when I think of how to describe him - maybe I could say yummy, or just beautiful, intense), the music, oh God, the music, the lyrics, all of it combined in this amazing package. And fuck, fuck, fuck, he's GONE! Aarrrggggh, it's causing me some anguish here. Anyway, here's this site filled with links to online articles: Featured Articles about Jeff Buckley. All sorts of people gushing about Jeff and his music, and this one, Orgasm Addict, written by a British woman, Caitlan Moran, for Melody Maker. It includes a little interview with the man himself, but the questions posited are so funny! She was clearly taken with him!! This article, too, In This Corner Jeff Buckley: Music to Swoon To, really made me realize I'm not alone. Thing is though, I'm late jumping on this bandwagon. Real late. Most of these articles are from no later than 1996. All I want to know is where the hell was I? To think that maybe I could've actually seen this guy live, in person......there's the sound again, that sound of ultimate frustration, that sound that can't be spelled. I guess I'm glad I found his music, no, I know I am, and I'm glad I have found all these tributes, and fan pages, and endless articles. He is worthy. From Caitlan Moran's article: Kristin Hersh once posited a theory that love is like an addictive poison - one lick of it and you crave the next hit. Anyone who hears Jeff Buckley Music will spend the next month craving the next hit. I can't get enough of it, of him. I wake up humming his songs, and there's at least one of them stuck in my head throughout the day, haunting me. Today it was "So Real". I have a fascination with his death now too. Find myself wanting to know details, and I've been reminded of a few I'd forgotten. It was the Mississippi river. He did jump in with his clothes on, and a boat came along, maybe a barge, its wake pulled him under. His friend rushed to move his guitar up the bank so it wouldn't get wet. Turned his back, a fraction of a minute, I don't know, just turned his back and I'll bet he still has nightmares of turning his back. Turning around and Jeff was gone. His body washed up on shore 4 days later. Couple guitar picks in his pockets, written notes to himself, house keys. This was in Memphis. It's all too much. And he just sang "...and i couldn't awake from the nightmare that sucked me in and pulled me under pulled me under" as I wrote that. Listening to the song which has played in my head all day, "So Real". There's even a note to his fans, written by his mother, online. There is so much. I'm going to go read more of it now, listen to him sing, and yes, imagine it's to me, like a schoolgirl with a horrible crush. And then, I'll check out Borders.com or Amazon, to see if I can get the latest release of previously unreleased material (he was working on a new album when he died), or maybe that David Browne book, and I'll immerse myself in this person, this music, because I am consumed. Anyone want to join me? I could use more company. Cost of the War in Iraq
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