stuff is cool

Jeff Buckley

November 17, 1966 - May 29, 1997

A HUGE influence on my teenage years. Others of my generation were shocked when Kurt Cobain died. I grieved when Jeff Buckley went missing and was later found drowned.

I have had issues with bodies of water and drowning ever since. I mean, it really, really bothered me.

I was 16.

Of course it did.

My scrapbook quickly filled with the reports surrounding his disappearance and death. Little then did anyone know how much a simple swim in the Wolf River could end a life and skyrocket a career.

In spite of all the cashing in on his cult status, all the posthumous albums that have been released year after year, even the article “Die, Jeff Buckey, Die” in the Houston Press, I still love Jeff Buckley. I’ll never get sick of him or his memory. He wrote beautiful lyrics. His voice arched and glistened like a cathedral. He made covers his own. His music still haunts me.

And yet my fondest memory of him will always be the times when Carrie and I are in the car, music turned up loud, practically screaming along with Last Goodbye. It’s the song of my coming of age. It’s the song of my greatest friendship. It both riles and calms my emotions. Jeff Buckley always does. And always will.