Better Off Dead?

This might sound grim, but some musicians just sound better dead. Especially if that artist is Jeff Buckley. I don’t think I’m alone in saying that his material took on a whole new level of spiritual potency following his death.

Don’t get me wrong, I subscribed to the opinion that Buckley was epically important to music before he was prematurely snatched from the mortal coil. It’s just that in death he has taken on something wholly more potent.

His music shifted from being moving to spiritual.

The obvious aesthetics are there. His voice was haunting whichever way you looked at it. Now it’s ghostly.

‘Hallelujah’ has been done to, excuse the pun, death. However, of all the versions, Buckley’s is far and away the best. This is coming from a guy who bloody loves Leonard Cohen.

Everything about it just makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention. From the refrained, almost broken guitars to the painful, world weary sigh at the beginning. It’ll take more than The O.C. to ruin a song like that.

There are few artists that can truly cause you to question your own tangibility. When one does, you cherish it.

Whilst I shant be as fickle to suggest his death defined him, it definitely did a great deal to add to the mystique. There are several stories circulating; stories of alcohol, stories of substance abuse, stories of suicide and stories of accidents.

Personally, I think it was an accident. The man had gone to great lengths to protect and nurture the integrity of his music. Lengths too great to waste. Why, when on the verge of releasing his 2nd album, would he simply choose to end it all? I know the mind works in mysterious ways, but so do rivers and their under currents.

The stories though, merely act as coping mechanisms. In the same way the conspiracies about John Lennon’s shooting and the circumstances surrounding Kurt Cobain’s suicide.

Buckley is an artist that inspires passionate, vehement mothering instincts in his fans. From his boyish appearance to his often frail voice, it seems the stories about his death are merely a way for his fans to protect his legacy as much as enhance it.

Songs like ‘Lover You Should’ve Come Over’ become posthumous juggernauts that transport the listener away from their surroundings and take them to a special place. I bet there are a few people that have cried at that one.

The lyric “Looking out the door I see rain fall upon the funeral mourners/Parading in a wake of sad relations as their shoes fill up with water” is haunting, and taking everything into account, fucking blows my tiny little mind.
When I think of Buckley, I do think of spiritualism. It’s a strange notion. I find Bob Dylan quite spiritual, but in a different way, simply because he’s still alive. The fact that Buckley is no longer with us means his music is often used as a tool of reflection.

I’m sat listening to him as I type this now, and I’m smiling. There’s something that’s comforting about his material. Despite all the tragedy that surrounds his life, it could have been worse. I shall leave you with this notion.

Jeff Buckley is not dead.

He lives on through those of us who still admire, love and respect his music. For me, that is just a calming train of thought.

Sugar plum pop...

They like it simple, do She & Him. Just look at their band name. Then take a look at the titles of their two albums, Volume One and the imaginatively titled Volume Two. The transparency of the name, the album titles, all of it, is embedded in their songs too.

Zooey Deschanel – the She of the duo – pipes and chimes her way through songs about falling in love, falling out of love and all the accoutrement that comes with liking that boy.

M. Ward, or Him if you prefer, brings to the table trite production skills and a keen sense of what it is that best suits Deschanel’s lyrical content and vocal prowess.

It’s a tag team performance that worked rather well on Volume One and there’s no surprise to see it at work again with Volume Two.

‘Thieves’ is the 1st song and demonstrates Deschanel’s maturing as a song writer. Its bare bones stuff that shuns the hokey delivery she adopted on Volume One. It’s a great way to start things off.

Another instance in which this LP differs from the first is the fact that M. Ward actually sings solo parts on this album. The first time we see this is on ‘Ridin’ In My Car (NRBQ)’. The song is pretty much She & Him to a tee, offering listeners an idealised American folk/pop hybrid. Ward’s guitars are particularly strong on this one.

In fact, Ward may have just about outshined Deschanel on Volume Two. Bold statements indeed. The arrangements and production on the album have been fine tuned and help to make the LP a delightful listen. It’s good music to do the spring cleaning to, if you catch my drift? If not, listen to ‘Lingering Still’ and you will.

It’s actually quite difficult to dislike the album. It’s not going to be everybody’s cup of tea, but most of the naysayers criticisms are actually the albums strengths. Yes, its sugar plum pop and the influence of Deschanel’s Hollywood ties are their in abundance.

Her performance like delivery and picture perfect lyrical content don’t particularly exist in the real world, but since when has there been a problem with escapism? In the grand scheme of things, there are bigger issues to worry about. So let’s just leave She & Him to exist in their own little pocket. They’re not doing any harm.