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"Plug in the bass!" a sound guy yelled repeatedly, frantically
signaling the stage where Jeff Buckley and band had just begun their
set. It was that kind of night. But Buckley's insanely expressive, ridiculously compelling voice carried him through the most unfortunate of circumstances. An industry-heavy crowd ("I just wanna thank everybody for being on the ticket-buy list," Buckley quipped) was gathered to see the coffeehouse circuit's great hope before he embarks on a West Coast tour. For this gig only, Buckley elected to add bass and drums to his usual solo electric guitar (as he did on his upcoming studio album but not on his current EP, Live at Sin-é). This was surely an ill-advised move that only compounded the multiple sound problems. Still, there's the voice - a big, soaring, passionate critter that swooshes and trembles. A voice that's a brilliant and disquieting cross between Bob Dylan's and Diamanda Galas', with a little Siouxsie Sioux thrown in for good mesure. A voice that manages to be both angelic and metal edged, pretty yet eager to travel strange, atonal regions where the buses don't run. At first, Buckley barely acknowledged his audience, performing with eyes closed, zoning out in his parallel sonic universe. But just as he was in danger of becoming annoyingly introspective, he flashed exuberant, with turns like a 78-rpm miniversion of "Surfin' USA" and a riff that threatened to become "Stairway to heaven" - but didn't. Though the offspring of 60's folkie Tim Buckley, Jeff more often quotes Led Zeppelin, an influence manifested in ethereal, climbing melodies. But Buckley makes his own guidelines. "Lover You Should Have Come Over," for instance, can't decide whether to be Zeplike or country tinged, so it decides to be both, inventing its own skewed genre in the process. The punch line is, Jeff Buckley can get away with anything. Daina Darzin
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