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THE REVIEW
Fragility and contrast.
"He was dressed in a beautiful face, a voice that rose toward endless regions of the cosmos" (Song Slowly Song).
Never ask yourself what sense "Song Slowly Song" would make without the loneliness of the soul. Rather, ask yourself what sense loneliness would have without a song by Tim Buckley. Drugs and loneliness.
"I was born like a sad melody, a little song my mother sang to me, one of those sad songs you've never heard" (Blue Melody).
Never ask yourself what sense Tim Buckley's life would have without the allure of drugs. Instead, ask yourself what sense any drug would have without a song by Tim Buckley. What you're reading is just a chapter of the enormous story of the man who lived in the desert despite being surrounded by thousands of men.
Timothy Charles Buckley III was born in Amsterdam, New York, on Valentine's Day in 1947. A precocious devourer of music struck by the figure of the solitary singer, a child hungry for the work of specters balancing between life and death (Johnny Cash, Hank Williams, Frank Sinatra). "I can't see you" is folk. "Wings" is country. "Songs of the Magician" is psychedelia. "Valentine melody" touches the boundaries of jazz.
"Only today, at a distance from his death, have I realized how few songs he wrote have the word "home" in them. It was as if he felt like a man from a non-place" (Larry Beckett, producer and friend).
Never ask yourself what Tim Buckley himself was. Don't ask "will it be this?", "will it be that?".
Once he said: "I could be everything and I am nothing; you might think I am nothing and I will be everything". Again, fragility and contrast.
"He was intelligent, wonderful, antisocial, tender, racist, a loyal friend, a living contradiction." (Linda Gillen) Voice and power. Voice and surrender.
"It Happens Every Time" is the voice, seductive and warm. "Song for Jaine" is the power, immense and hypnotic force. "Grief in my soul" is the surrender, a sharp knife cutting through aching flesh.
Never ask yourself what sense a Tim Buckley song would have without pain. Rather, ask yourself what sense pain would have without "Understand your man".
In 1974 Tim wrote to Lee Underwood, faithful guitarist and friend: "There are no words for solitude - black, bitter, dark solitude that plucks my roots in the silence of the night".
"Grief my soul" is total solitude.
Never ask yourself what sense would there be in reading a review of Tim Buckley without technicalities, descriptions, specifics, genres, in-depth analyses, musical references. Rather, ask yourself what sense all those trite banalities would have in a Tim Buckley review. Next time for the musical technicisms, I can't describe a Tim Buckley song, for God's sake.
For the last time, fragility and contrast.
"When he died, I couldn't move for a week. Poor innocent in the infernal machine of the world" (Joe Stevens, musician).
Never ask yourself what sense the world has without Tim Buckley - it revolved around the sun for thirty years all the same, without feeling the blow. Rather, ask yourself what sense my world would have without Tim Buckley.
Nothing.
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Summary by Bot
This evocative review highlights the fragility and contrast in Tim Buckley’s music and life. It explores his mastery across genres from folk to jazz and his heartfelt expression of loneliness and pain. The review emphasizes Buckley’s poetic depth and unique voice as vital to understanding his legacy. It avoids technical jargon, focusing instead on the emotional impact of his work.Tracklist Lyrics Videos
02 Wings (02:35)
Although you've spoken many times before,
A sight of birth he leaves you by a door.
And now you know he doesn't understand.
And all you need is the warmth of his hand.
And if he'd smile your loving blood would dance,
One silent kiss leaves you in a trance.
And now you know you cannot live alone,
But you will find your future is unknown.
One day the questions rise.
On wings of chance you fly.
And on that day your laughs and tears will die,
And fall as free as seabirds climb the skies.
And you will love when love comes your way.
And when it comes there's nothing more to say.
And now you know he doesn't understand,
And now you know you don't need his hand.
One day the questions die,
On wings of chance you fly.
10 Grief in My Soul (02:08)
I've got ten thousand troubles, a million woes.
I got grief in my soul nobody knows.
I got heartaches, I got stingin' water fallin' out of the sky.
I got a long lost lover, got a reason to die.
I got ten thousand troubles, a million woes.
I got grief in my soul nobody knows.
I got sorrow.
I'm in a storm that'll spare no travelin' man.
I fear tomorrow.
Got a love that died long before it began.
I got ten thousand troubles, a million woes.
I got grief in my soul nobody knows.
Got a cold chain.
I got rain fallin' on my head from above.
I got a bad pain.
I got a gal don't know the meaning of love.
I got ten thousand troubles, a million woes.
I got grief in my soul nobody knows.
I got heartaches, I got stingin' water fallin' out of the sky.
I got a long lost lover, got a reason to die.
I got ten thousand troubles, a million woes.
I got grief in my soul nobody knows.
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
