Can you miss someone that you have never met?
It’s a strange sensation, missing someone. We replay events in our minds wondering what it would have been like if someone else was there with us. We reflect on the conversations and the laughter and the experiences that could have been shared and wish that it would have been so. It’s understandable and possibly the only defense mechanism that we have in dealing with loss. But what does it mean when what you miss is something that you have only encountered through images on a screen and notes in the air?
All I know is that tonight marks the tenth anniversary of Jeff Buckley’s death and I truly miss him.
I’m not quite sure if I’ll ever be able to explain what Jeff’s music has meant to me over the years. At some point it crossed the line from being the soundtrack to my life to being an integral part of it. When I woke up yesterday in a bad mood and needing to get my head on straight the first thing I did was put on the Live in Chicago DVD. I have seen this concert hundreds of time. I watched it the night before every single test in business school. Not only can I tell you the stage banter but I can tell you what the crowd yells between songs. And it always helps to clear my head and tighten my focus on what is important.
It wasn’t always like this. I became aware of his music in college when “Last Goodbye” got some airplay. It was enough for me to buy “Grace”, a disc that I described at the time as having the best opening fifteen minutes and then kind of lost me. It was the type of album that I would listen to in the dark and just let the music pass over me while I would lie there and think. I even included some tracks on a mix tape I sent to Meg under my continual belief that one day a mix tape will prove successful in explaining the emotions inside me. I was a fan in the same way that I am a fan of a hundred other bands in my collection.
And then there came that faithful night in Memphis. I’ve never been quite able to comprehend it. No matter how you look at it all you can think of is that you have entered a movie script. The son of a gifted musician who had died young also dies a tragic, early death. It just seems unreal. And even though I didn’t know him, even though he was just a picture in a music video, I couldn’t believe that he was gone.
I hate it when people say that Jeff became famous because he died. It completely discounts what he had accomplished. He had written a great album in “Grace”, he had showed unbelievable talent and there was the promise of what he could be. As I listened to the songs over the years, and as I hunted for concert recordings, the songs began to grow on me and take on greater meaning. The twenty year old version of myself couldn’t appreciate all of the details. I needed ten more years for all of the images to become clear. But I’ll always admit that in the end I listen to the discs wondering about the songs that I’ll never get to hear. And that adds color to the songs that otherwise would not exist.
For years now I’ve used the following quote of Jeff’s as my screensaver for my laptop. When people see it they’ll occasionally stop and ask where it is from. Some get it, some don’t, a few people have tried to make a joke about it. To me, it is the credo of a man who accomplished much in too short of a life. And like a lot of people tonight, I’m just going to sit back and listen to the music and remember and wonder what could have been.
“Be the best. No negativity, no weakness, no acquiescence to fear or disaster, no errors of ignorance, no evasion from reality.”
It’s a strange sensation, missing someone. We replay events in our minds wondering what it would have been like if someone else was there with us. We reflect on the conversations and the laughter and the experiences that could have been shared and wish that it would have been so. It’s understandable and possibly the only defense mechanism that we have in dealing with loss. But what does it mean when what you miss is something that you have only encountered through images on a screen and notes in the air?
All I know is that tonight marks the tenth anniversary of Jeff Buckley’s death and I truly miss him.
I’m not quite sure if I’ll ever be able to explain what Jeff’s music has meant to me over the years. At some point it crossed the line from being the soundtrack to my life to being an integral part of it. When I woke up yesterday in a bad mood and needing to get my head on straight the first thing I did was put on the Live in Chicago DVD. I have seen this concert hundreds of time. I watched it the night before every single test in business school. Not only can I tell you the stage banter but I can tell you what the crowd yells between songs. And it always helps to clear my head and tighten my focus on what is important.
It wasn’t always like this. I became aware of his music in college when “Last Goodbye” got some airplay. It was enough for me to buy “Grace”, a disc that I described at the time as having the best opening fifteen minutes and then kind of lost me. It was the type of album that I would listen to in the dark and just let the music pass over me while I would lie there and think. I even included some tracks on a mix tape I sent to Meg under my continual belief that one day a mix tape will prove successful in explaining the emotions inside me. I was a fan in the same way that I am a fan of a hundred other bands in my collection.
And then there came that faithful night in Memphis. I’ve never been quite able to comprehend it. No matter how you look at it all you can think of is that you have entered a movie script. The son of a gifted musician who had died young also dies a tragic, early death. It just seems unreal. And even though I didn’t know him, even though he was just a picture in a music video, I couldn’t believe that he was gone.
I hate it when people say that Jeff became famous because he died. It completely discounts what he had accomplished. He had written a great album in “Grace”, he had showed unbelievable talent and there was the promise of what he could be. As I listened to the songs over the years, and as I hunted for concert recordings, the songs began to grow on me and take on greater meaning. The twenty year old version of myself couldn’t appreciate all of the details. I needed ten more years for all of the images to become clear. But I’ll always admit that in the end I listen to the discs wondering about the songs that I’ll never get to hear. And that adds color to the songs that otherwise would not exist.
For years now I’ve used the following quote of Jeff’s as my screensaver for my laptop. When people see it they’ll occasionally stop and ask where it is from. Some get it, some don’t, a few people have tried to make a joke about it. To me, it is the credo of a man who accomplished much in too short of a life. And like a lot of people tonight, I’m just going to sit back and listen to the music and remember and wonder what could have been.
“Be the best. No negativity, no weakness, no acquiescence to fear or disaster, no errors of ignorance, no evasion from reality.”
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