Grace at 30

I remember the first time I heard Jeff Buckley singing. I was hanging out at my then boyfriend Paul ‘s flat. He’d just bought the album. I sat frozen in my seat, jaw dropping. I perused the album cover: the impossibly beautiful man in a sequinned coat, looking soulful and untouchable, clutching an old-fashioned microphone. He looked like he sounded: otherworldly, sexy and yet somehow troubled, looking for peace of mind.

So it was with Jeff Buckley. His incredible, octave spanning vocal range and enigmatic songs captivated an entire generation. Radiohead wouldn’t have sounded like they do without him- unfortunately, his influence could also be found in pale, lesser artists like Coldplay, Damien Rice etc. who took his template of soaring, anthemic songs and stripped them of the soul and imagination that made them ignite.

It was the building drama of ‘Lover, You Should’ve Come Over’ that absolutely seduced me, because of the way he seemed to be on his knees begging by the end. ‘Dream Brother’ took psychedelic rock and dragged it into the grunge era, as he seemingly addressed familial ttauma. It could be a riposte to errant father Tim Buckley the title designed to wrongfoot the listener . But we can never be sure. Only the opener, the raw, sublime ‘Mojo Pin’ is directly “about” someone- his lover Joan Wasser, soon to famously record as Joan As Policewoman.

Thirty years llater, the musical landscape is bloated with the progeny of Jeff Buckley: the tedious Ed Sheeran, Gerry Cinnamon et al, buskers who got lucky.

But his legacy is sealed. There will never be another so gifted and mysterious, so complex and capricious. As indie becomes increasingly obsessed with the past, a parade of postpunk hipsters, it’s important to remember someone who pushed the rock template forward. It’s still as startling as when I first heard it.