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It’s so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.
(The Winter of our Discontent - John Steinbeck)
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This post is the creative work of Iris Watts Hirideyo and is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
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Fourteen years ago today I was on Westwood Boulevard standing outside Tower Records waiting to see an in-store performance by Jeff Buckley. He’d just come onto the music scene and I’d just become captivated by his unique sound and stunning face. We’d been at it for no more than months. He, playing, plugging Grace (which was to be his only studio recorded album) and I, listening, keeping an eye out for the name and the voice.
When I learned of the Tower Records event, I had been in Los Angeles for a mere eight days. A stunning coincidence, I’ve always thought. Serendipity. One of those rare gifts you don’t dare wonder about.
Strange world where sharpie-drawn outlines of hearts can outlive the hand that drew them.
Thanks go to Mo for the video.
Photographs by Merri Cyr.
This post is the creative work of Iris Watts Hirideyo and is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
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Being asked this morning what my favorite kind of music was, I scrunched up my face and wavered between rock and alternative… saying the words with a slight frown meant to signify uncertainty, eyebrows misaligned, forehead made to resemble a lined scrap of paper - uncertainty not as to my own taste but in recognition of how little those words revealed, how precariously they fulfilled their purpose, and how ultimately, they failed to suffice in answering the question. ‘That’s kind of vague…’ I was told and it was precisely what the frown had been there to represent - the awareness of my vagueness.
- ‘What do you like?’
- ‘Damien Rice.’
- ‘Sad boys with guitars.’
- ‘How about Jeff Buckley? Does he qualify?’
- ‘Yup. Sad boys with guitars.’
It has a nice ring to it, that category. I happen to like it…
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For more sad boys read Born to Run and Iris H. falls for an Irish movie.
This post is the creative work of Iris Watts Hirideyo and is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
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Buckley creeps in from time to time. Like a ’short-lost’ friend. Like someone who can only fade so far into the background. Everything you care about that gets ‘backburnered’ into the recesses of your soul eventually steps forward again. One of these days I sat at the computer for a couple of hours straight just looking for Jeff Buckley interviews on YouTube, not really knowing why, finding few and yet marveling at the shimmering surface and the deep waters running beneath it - marveling at how what he said, though wholly unconnected to the hand I’ve been dealt still manages to fit it like a glove.
You find answers in the unlikeliest places.
Buckley is a good place to look.
It’s sort of like predicting the future… I mean, like, anytime you make plans for the future… an emotional future with somebody or… you know, any future whatsoever… there’s nothing quite as spectacular as what the future will provide you without your help… (Jeff Buckley)
Looking out the door I see the rain
fall upon the funeral mourners
Parading in a wake of sad relations
as their shoes fill up with water
And maybe I’m too young
To keep good love from going wrong
But tonight you’re on my mind so (you’ll never know)
I’m broken down and hungry for your love
With no way to feed it
Where are you tonight? Child, you know how much I need it
Too young to hold on and too old to just break free and run
Sometimes a man gets carried away
When he feels like he should be having his fun
And much too blind to see the damage he’s done
Sometimes a man must awake to find that, really,
He has no one…
So I’ll wait for you… And I’ll burn
Will I ever see your sweet return, oh, or will I ever learn
Lover, you should’ve come over
Cause it’s not too late
Lonely is the room the bed is made
The open window lets the rain in
Burning in the corner is the only one who dreams he had you with him
My body turns and yearns for a sleep that will never come
It’s never over, my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder
It’s never over, all my riches for her smiles
when I sleep so soft against her…
It’s never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter
It’s never over, she is the tear that hangs inside my soul forever
Maybe I’m too young to keep good love from going wrong
Oh… Lover, you should’ve come over…
‘Cause it’s not too late…
This post is the creative work of Iris Watts Hirideyo and is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
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Click here to read part I of my post about Jeff Buckley
…for Fabio - whom I ought to leave the singing to.
This post is the creative work of Iris Watts Hirideyo and is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
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I never met Jeff. But I did come in contact with him. A distant sort of contact disguised as a close encounter. He grazed my shoulder on his way to the makeshift stage at Tower Records in Westwood. I was getting my period and he had a zit on his upper chest close to the collar bone. He was beautiful beyond anything I’ve ever seen. Delicate like a bird you could spend eternity looking at and listening to. And I did that. I looked at him… and listened to him… for as long as I could.
See my autographed jewel case insert signed by Jeff Buckley in part II of this blog post
This post is the creative work of Iris Watts Hirideyo and is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
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A subject is not chosen. It makes itself available. It pats you on the shoulder, makes some attention seeking gesture and proceeds to flirt. Fixes its Jeff Buckley eyes on you, flashes enough of its Billy Crudup smiles to find a permanent spot under your skin. It toys with the imagination – eggs it on. It seduces precisely by retaining a good chunk of its mystery. Writing is all about seduction.
This post is the creative work of Iris Watts Hirideyo and is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
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