Jeff Buckley :: My Top 10 Favorite Songs
I must admit that I had quite the blush-worthy dream about Jeff Buckley in the very early morning yesterday which I was abruptly awaken from, and ever since I have been fiercely “in the mood” for his music. As I spun most of his discography today I found myself going back to certain songs to hit repeat and replay which got me to thinking that perhaps it was time for a Top 10 Favorite Songs of Jeff Buckley post. I know I have written about Jeff’s music more than a few times here, just as I know he has graced my dreams before, as well. I miss his voice and his songs so much, and often wonder what would have come next. What we have though is brilliant and beautiful, and I enjoyed spending the afternoon with Jeff as I sorted out what my 10 favorites would be.
My Top 10 Jeff Buckley songs:
10. I Want Someone Badly (duet with Shudder To Think, from the soundtrack to First Love, Last Rites)
“Now I want someone badly,
to burn in here with me.”
One of the most seductive songs I have ever heard. I received this soundtrack as a gift from an ex-lover and I remember being blown away by it, most especially this song. There is this late at night longing that is so alluring, yet almost heartbreaking, at the same time.
“I miss my beautiful friend.“
Once upon a time I fell in love with a dear friend, and for a brief moment in time it was beautiful, as beautiful as this song is, but it shattered apart and nothing was ever the same again. I miss the friendship, and yes, I miss the passion shared. We all live with regrets, don’t we?
8. Mojo Pin
“Oh…if only you’d come back to me,
if you laid at my side,
wouldn’t need no Mojo Pin,
to keep me satisfied.”
In the middle of the night, in the stillness of sleepless thoughts, loneliness sneaks in and toys with memories. In those moments, restless and wrestling, I remember a time long past. Those nights when we shared a single bed, tucked in tight and close, so close we were almost breathing as one.
7. All Flowers In Time
“I know you say that there’s no-one for you,
but here is one.”
He sent me this song when we were apart, on a mix of music, all speaking things we had lost the words to say to one another. I was taken by all of it, by the favorite voices of mine blending together, by the lyrics sang, of hopeless yet hopeful love. In those moments between us being together and being apart I did once believe he was the one.
6. Lilac Wine
“I lost myself on a cool damp night,
gave myself in that misty light,
was hypnotized by a strange delight,
under a lilac tree.”
I rode the trains back-and-forth to work, everywhere really, when we first lived together in Chicago. I read that book you let me borrow about Grace, the album, with music singing into my ears. This song I remember playing while we headed underground, as everything went dark I lay the book in my lap, closed my eyes, and just let the music take me.
“There’s the moon asking to stay,
long enough for the clouds to fly me away.”
It never seemed to matter, any of the words I said just flew up and away from him, soaring somewhere to the South of us, back to the rain-soaked humidity of the Keys where we once upon a time had everything. He talked of death more than he ever talked about living, and I just kept wishing, hoping, painting on the smile of naive optimism. Inside I was the one who felt like I was dying.
4. Last Goodbye
please kiss me,
but kiss me out of desire, babe,
and not consolation.”
The words that come now, they read of afterthought, and of late night loneliness, not of the love we once shared. I don’t know why we still hold on to these final straw grasps of each other, both of us too afraid to admit that only one of us would ever dare to make it real. I am no consolation prize, and you are never a second hand decision, but does it even matter now?
3. So Real
“I love you,
but I’m afraid to love you.”
He held me close in the temporary room by the water, his hands playing chords on my skin as skillfully as the strings of his guitar, the sounds from my lips, a melody to midnight, to moonlight, to our shared breathing. I knew what my heart felt, its undeniable flutter and spin, but the words stayed trapped under the weight of remembered rejections. Instead I curved my spine in a way that linked us together, fused and fastened, as if never to be torn apart.
“And I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch,
and love is not a victory march,
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah.”
She knows it is Leonard Cohen’s words set to music that set my own heart aflame, that bring my emotions uncontrollably to the surface, that strip me of pretense and all disillusioned disregard. And, she knows this is the closest I will ever come to saying I believe in God, the one of song, of flawed forgiveness, of clear eyed truths. Faith is never the issue with me, nor the act of belief, it is the scars still unhealed of a lost little girl who broke herself free of such things so very long ago.
“Well maybe I’m just too young,
to keep good love from going wrong.”
It was impossibly hot for that early of an hour, everything cloying, stifling, making it hard to breathe. You sat so close to me, our torn jeans the same color, a single cigarette, the last of the pack, passing between us as we sat there, trapped in the silences. I would never have believed that it was over, oh the many things I wish I had said instead of just exhaling nothing but shared smoke.