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THE REVIEW
Confusion. I understand the reason why I'm here, but that reason is a ghost. I look out at life and the mirror reflects nothing, I speak but the sound is lost in the void, the mazes of my being deny illusory contacts, I'm carried by a self that looks at me from another Universe.
The spaceship is a merry-go-round tilting in the primordial lands of my being where I recognize only my invisibility. To long for the alchemical cloud to communicate perfection. In absence, I meet Syd, we exchange pleasantries, we know how things stand. It's a private exchange, sorry. Nick was busy with black holes, a tough job. We'll see each other next never. Christa is a bit further on, seducing nothingness, she nods to me in greeting. With Piero the Italian requires caution, even here "brilla diVino". Friends...
The curse of having a voice that reproduces the sound of Creation resonates with everything else. Surpassing the vanity of being, but also of not being, not even nothing remains. I pulse in an impersonal solitude. The musical skit lingers over the essence of missing, missing your non-being. Setting a date with oneself (?), lingering over the refusal to show up. Suspension...
I accept on a soul level the power of light, but the body cannot endure it. The Archangel within me initiates self-combustion. Conscious destruction eternalizes me, disintegrating the doubt of the truth of feelings. Love plays love, I play no more. The evanescence of lies is only the shadow of the ray. Conscious sacrifice grants unlimited credits towards nothing, nothing they will remain. Shipwrecked forever, I don't even reach the illusion's shore.
I'm trying to reach myself without stretching out my hand.
Hey! Say something, Tim. ... something...
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Summary by Bot
This highly poetic and introspective review delves into the deep existential and emotional journey evoked by Tim Buckley’s album Lorca. The reviewer reflects on themes of invisibility, self-disintegration, and soul-level confrontation with light and truth. The music is portrayed as haunting, surreal, and deeply moving. The review closes with a personal plea for connection with Buckley’s voice.Tracklist Lyrics Videos
04 Driftin' (08:12)
When there's wine in your belly Love rhythm's on
your tongue For you are a woman And each man has been
too young But for me you were a lover Gently
under your cover Your sheet reeks of odours Oh i
came here to hold and be held for a while I've
been drifting like a dream out on the sea I've been
drifting in between you and me Everytime i think about you
I can't remember what i said or did Was right or
wrong, you know i just don't remember All i wanna be
is what you mean to me All i wanna be is what you mean to
me Late last night as i dreamed in dizzy sunlight
I thought i heard your bare feet up the stairs Just
like a fool, just like a fool I've been drifting
Like a dream out on the sea I've been drifting in
between what used to be
Tim Buckley
Timothy Charles Buckley III (1947–1975) was an American singer-songwriter known for an exceptional vocal range and for expanding folk into jazz, psychedelia, and avant-garde forms across late-1960s/early-1970s albums. He died in 1975 at age 28.24 Reviews
Other reviews
By ajejebrazorf
Tim Buckley was a dreamer, a utopian, as far away as he could be from any commercial logic.
Few pieces have reached such depths in exploring anguish: perhaps, from different sides, only Sister Ray by Velvet Underground, the Not Available by Residents, the Frankie Teardrop by Suicide in rock have been able to tell the pain of living so well.
