The Son Also Rises

Being the son of a rock legend, even a cult figure, is a mixed blessing. Jeff Buckley knows that better than most. He's an idiosyncratic, highly acclaimed 27-year-old singer/songwriter, in the '60s and '70s his late father, Tim Buckley, wove folk, jazz and blues into his own distinct hybrid. At best, Jeff is ambivalent about the father he barely knew. Jeff becomes increasingly emotional when he describes the event that placed him at the center of the New York music scene. In 1991 producer Hal Willner organized an all-star Tim Buckley tribute concert at St. Ann's Church, in Brooklyn, N.Y. "See, I sacrificed something for my father's memory," Jeff says heatedly. "Technically, the tribute will be seen as my debut in New York -- which it really wasn't.

"It wasn't my work, it wasn't my life," Jeff recalls. "But it bothered me that I hadn't been to his funeral, that I'd never been able to tell him anything. I used that show to pay my last respects. There was one song, 'Once I Was,' that I remember because my mother played it for me when I was 5, when my stepfather was out of the house. So I sang this song, and a string broke at the very end, and I had to finish it a cappella." Jeff pauses, adding softly, almost in a whisper, "I didn't sing it very well."

Much to Jeff's dismay, his father's fans insisted on comparing him -- positively and negatively -- to their idol. The cult around the elder Buckley, who died in 1975, is particularly protective -- and not without reason. Over nine albums during an eight-year career, Tim Buckley ranged from psychedelic-folk experimentation to his own off-kilter brand of blue-eyed soul. Entrancing audiences with emotionally charged, bluesy performances, Tim's best material ran parallel to the evocative ramblings of Joni Mitchell and Van Morrison, yet he added his own distinctive whimsy.

Tim Buckley fans may have overreacted, but there are deep musical similarities between father and son: their eccentric and commandingly versatile vocal styles, just for starters. Both artists have also pursued an affinity for odd instrumentation and fearless experimentation; the results are diaphanous, extended pieces that hover between genres.

Today, Jeff Buckley is quick to assert himself as an individual, at times mocking his father"s oddball notoriety. "Sometimes he sounds like the fucking Kingfish from Amos and Andy," Jeff says, suddenly bursting into a line from his father's soul-influenced late period: "I woke up this morning. . . What the fuck is that? Every,single day I've been loving you . . . What kind of bullshit is that? I never sound like that . . . Gonna look between your toes. . . Fuck that shit. It's like you don't know if you're Tom Jones or Al Green, and the two mixed together don't really sound that great."