Well I heard there was a secret chord that Jeff once played and it pleased the Lord. But you did really care for music, did you?
15 years have passed since he decided to stop by the Wolf River, Harbor, Mississippi River’s slackwater channel, and to take a swim in it still wearing his clothes and boots on. Singing the chorus of Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin. And never coming back.
The whole internet is seething with tributes and remembrances about him, so I won’t write more than what you may already read. I’ll just leave some of his music, because, well, this is the great part: I believe it doesn’t matter he died. It was a tragedy for he was only 30 (no mentioning his father Tim’s death at damned 27), it certainly was; but despite the short time he had Jeff Buckley has left us such great music, so intimate, so strong in its intrinsic energy, and so perfectly melted with the deep hermetic poetry of his lyrics that a part of his soul will may never take the risk to desappear neither to be forgotten.
He often referred to his fictious death without communicating fear, nor sadness; just melancholy. And melancholy has something sweet in it. It’s sad he died so young, but forget it for a minute: it’s just amazing he managed to left us so much in that kind of little production. He probably was ripe to give something to the world, to music, something people are often not able to give even at elderly age. And this personally makes me glad , and not sad at all.
There’s the moon asking to stay
Long enough for the clouds to fly me away
Well it’s my time coming, i’m not afraid to die
My fading voice sings of love,
But she cries to the clicking of time
…And I feel them drown my name
So easy to know and forget with this kiss
I’m not afraid to go but it goes so slow