I brought to you my tired plans and weary faith to you...

To be honest, I can't remember the first time I heard any of Tim Buckley's music. All I have is a fuzzy image of a very young me, in the basement of my house, my father listening to records, and liking the music. Granted I have a lot of fuzzy images like this, but what I do know is that any time I hear any song by Tim Buckley, I get a warm feeling inside that reminds me of home.

Tim Buckley drew from folk, psychedelic rock, and progressive jazz to create a vast body of adventurous and daring work during his short lifetime. Born on February 14, 1947 in Washington D.C. and dying at the tender age of 28 from a heroine overdose on June 29, 1975 in Santa Monica, California. The one thing that moves me so deeply when listening to his music is the incredible expressiveness that his multi-octave range was capable of. Perhaps what is even more moving is the profound sadness that seems to underlie his vocals. Buckley would swoop from sorrowful tenderness to anguished wailing in the course of a measure. His relentless quest for new territory and his commitment to artistic integrity worked against him. By the time his fans were hooked on his latest work, he was onto something else entirely.

Mothers of Invention drummer, Jimmy Carl Black, introduced Tim and several other musicians to the Mothers' manager, Herbie Cohen. After hearing some demo tapes of Buckley's, Cohen became Buckley's manager and helped Tim get a deal with Elektra. In 1967, Buckley released his debut album, Tim Buckley. This album showcased his melodies and romantic lyrics.

His fragile, melancholic lyrics and vocals carried over onto his second album, Goodbye and Hello (1967). The songs and arrangements became more psychedelic and complex, most notably on the title track. The album peaked at number 171 on the top 200 and has since been his only album to ever break onto the charts. His third alum, Happy Sad (1969), followed an increasingly strong jazz path. Buckley introduced congas and vibes to his arrangements to give them a stronger jazz flavor.

By the late 1960's Buckley grew farther away from "folk-rock." His waning interest was apparent in Happy Sad. His interest primarily focused on jazz, not just smooth jazz, but more avant-garde, experimental music. His arrangements became more obtuse and his lyrics were sparse, if they even existed. Buckley abandoned lyrics entirely sometimes, simply using his voice as a complex instrument: screaming, moaning, and twisting. His fourth album, Lorca (1970), was filled with these jazz experiments. The album was regarded as a massive departure from the norm by many of his fans and even further, it was considered a real bummer, a major depressing album!

Perhaps to prove that he could still write beautiful, romantic, jazz tunes, Buckley released, Blue Afternoon, shortly after Lorca. The albums were released so close together that, although it proved the versatility of this young musician, commercially it created a flop. The albums were released so close that the impact of one canceled the impact of the other, as well as confusing his fans who could not figure out what kind of musician Buckley truly was.

Buckley's approach to his music at this time was so uncommercial that it threatened his career. 1994's release of the live album, Live at the Troubadour 1969, illustrated how uncompromising Buckley was with his live performances as well as his albums, with its stretched out jams and improv vocals. Buckley's dedication and integrity to his music was not making him any money, and it is said that during this time he worked as a cab driver and chauffeur as well as appearing in films. When he finally returned to the studio, possibly due to pressure from management and label execs, he went back to his singer/songwriter roots.

Buckley's later releases, Starsailor (1971), Greetings from L.A. (1972), Sefronia (1974), and Look at the Fool (1974), have caused more controversy in his career. Some fans regard these works as seminal blues albums, while others feel that the young musician's talents were fading as he burned out.

In 1975 Tim Buckley died from a heroine overdose. He was rumored to have been clean and sober for a period of time before the incident. Buckley remained an underground icon for some time before the Cocteau Twins covered his, "Song for the Siren" in the 1980's. Two late 60's live sets released posthumously, Live at the Troubadour 1969 and Dream Letter, helped boost his profile out of the underground. Many know Buckley because of his son Jeff's own outstanding musical career before his death in 1997.

Words can not fully expressed the joys and pains that I have felt listening to the music of Tim Buckley. His first three albums particularly move me. His voice is unlike any I have ever heard and I doubt I will ever hear one like it in the future. Whenever I am feeling incredibly sad or tired or depressed, I put on one of Tim's albums and immediately feel as though there is someone else in the world that feels the same way I do. Sometimes I think that I can honestly say that if it were not for a handful of musicians, I would probably have never lived to see my own high school graduation. I include Tim Buckley in that handful. This is what music is all about. The power to move people. This is what Tim Buckley has done to me and I strongly recommend and urge everyone to go out and buy some of this man's music.