remembering jeff buckley

Ten years ago almost to the day, I was living with my friend Michelle just down the street from where I live today. She was staying over at her boyfriend's house. I woke up about 10 minutes before my alarm went off -- I hate when that happens; I feel so cheated. Knowing that MTV News, in that decade at least, was broadcast at about 10 minutes to the hour, I decided to get up and go into our living room and turn on the TV. I still have no idea why I did this. I don't know what made me get out of bed to turn the TV on.

Kurt Loder appears on my screen and tells me that Jeff Buckley has been missing for a couple of days after going swimming in the Wolf River, and his body has been found. He was in Memphis, Tennessee, and he was dead.

It was like getting hit by a Mac Tools truck. I had no words. And of course, there was only about one minute devoted to the story, as fewer people knew about him then. It wasn't like the day Kurt Cobain was found dead in his house. There wasn't even a computer in my apartment, so I couldn't go online and try to find more information or visit a MySpace page.

Without sounding too melodramatic, my life changed a bit that day. Later, I would join the staff of JBIN, the official Jeff Buckley International Newsletter and interview musician Holcombe Waller, travel to Cleveland all by myself to the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame for a fan gathering, meet Jeff's mom and go to dinner with her, Jeff's half brother and other Jeff fans from around the country and Canada.

I used to feel guilty that I cried more about the death of a musician who I didn't even know than some of my own relatives who I loved dearly. I think now that it's partly because of the tragic nature of Jeff's death at such a young age -- he was only 30. And it's partly because I feel like I know Jeff in a way that's more intimate than the kinds of relationships we have with people we know.

It's art and its honesty, nakedness and truth. The openness that artists allow themselves is so attractive to me. I know that I can be naive, but I do, in fact, know that just because a musician or a painter can create a feeling in someone doesn't make it real or true. But it does tell me something about themselves.

Mike sent me an article last week about Trent Reznor, and his truths are brutal and free-flowing. The man does not hold back. He's content to share his viewpoints, his disappointments and his struggles with depression and addiction. That's more than some of my own friends and relatives, so I relate to him in a way that I may not with someone I see everyday. Weird, huh?

Anyway, I miss Jeff Buckley. My heart gets so heavy thinking about how unfair it is that he's gone. If there's a Heaven, and God sees to it that I find my way there someday, I will be reunited with my grandparents, friends and family members who have died. And Jeff will be singing. That's my Heaven.

By the way, if you're a fan of Jeff's, Merri Cyr's collection of photos, A Wished-For Song is a must have. And there's a new CD of his music, So Real, the Music of Jeff Buckley available now on Columbia Records.

Listen to NPR's take on the 10th anniversary of Jeff's death.

This electronic press kit could make anyone a fan. It always makes me cry. I actually first bought a DVD player in 2000 because Jeff Buckley - Live in Chicago was being released, and the DVD version included special extras -- especially this electronic press kit. I found it recently on MySpace.
Jeff Buckley epk