Jeff Buckley’s Grace turns 25 today.
I’m listening to the vinyl and drinking amazing scotch and smoking an amazing cigar. I am enjoying my favorite things in life, and it occurs to me that throughout my life — the adult part of it, anyway — there has always been Grace.
Jeff taught me about Grace. Grace is the confidence to defy fear and be what you know you are. Grace is not forgiveness, it’s absolution. It’s not a blessing, it’s a freedom. It’s elegance borne of a distinct, unshakable, deep understanding of who we are as people and creating the person we want to be, exactly the way we should be. It’s beyond intention. It’s instinct. It’s our deepest self, when no one is watching… or when everyone is.
This album has been with me through everything… every book I’ve written, every project I’ve ever done, every trip I’ve taken — spiritually or physically… God, every breakup, every infatuation , every love. Human or not. Always there. Always relevant. Always real and amazing and lively.
He gave it to us. He gave us Grace.
He gave me the soundtrack of every best moment of my life and every worst. He gave to me a song to go with moments I haven’t even experienced yet. He gave himself to the process, and that process yielded one of the most immaculately produced, textured, layered, passionate, beautiful albums to have ever been recorded.
He didn’t die to soon; we didn’t deserve him. Period. He was too beautiful a soul for this ugly world, and he paid his dues harder than he needed to. By the time he reached us he was already so far beyond us… so evolved and so real.
We didn’t deserve what he gave us. But he gave it, and I know my life wouldn’t be the same without him.
He never knew me.
But I love him and I miss him.