Yesterday I acquired Jeff Buckley's Grace - Legacy Edition. There has always been something mesmerizing about this album to me, there is a quality to it that I cannot find words for. It's like standing in an old, historic theatre that smells of thousands of elations and just as many heartbreaks, and you're there on mainstage under the lights taking in the memory of all of that in a soggy, dripping wet pea coat, completely alone, unable to determine if the streaks running down your face are made more of your own tears or of the rain finding gravity. And in those moments, it is the only place in the world you would ever choose to be. Listening to this album is like being on a bike for the first time with no training wheels, suddenly realizing that no one is holding on to you anymore, you're on a journey of your own that is both dangerous and thrilling and of your own design, and in this state of suspended consciousness you finally come to understand freedom. At once the universe opens up and welcomes you along for the ride. And while it kind of disturbs me that more people I know aren't able to appreciate this music and what it means to me, I do find something very precious about that. Perhaps not everyone is meant for this rather than this is not meant for everyone I think.
I fall in and out of this music from time to time, then something very strong comes over me and I revisit it. I don't understand people who listen to Grace every day of their lives, I don't understand how it doesn't crush and kill them. The entirety of this record is so overwrought with yearning and longing and the determination to cast aside fear and have the courage to live that at times it is hard for me to take - and I know this record back and forth. I've come to separate it note by note, to hear individual pieces within the whole. I've analyzed his vocal phrasing and intonation, I've drank and breathed this record. You'd think that by now I'd have gotten over that phase of music, as is so common with most of it. That's also why it is so clear to me now that when it was initially released it stood out miles from anything else of its time. This record was made so that it would stand as a testament for where your life was going to take you, like an old friend that you depend on for support and always need to keep in contact with.
Don't fool yourself, she was heartache from the moment that you met her...
I want to go to Memphis to the marina at Mud Island on the Wolf River sometime within the next year or so. I want to throw a handful of lilacs into the water for him. I want to take a radio and play Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love" for him. I want to drink half of a good, strong cup of coffee there, then pour the rest out for him. I want to thank him for everything he's given me and everything he's taken away from me. I want to curse him and then immediately forgive him for the same reasons.
Have to stop now, cannot see through my own tears.