In May 1997, the talented singer / songwriter known to the world as Jeff Buckley perished in the Mississippi river. He was just thirty years of age, and, like his father Tim—also a talented and highly praised musician—had died tragically, confounding critics and fans alike, leaving tremors of sadness behind which reach right up into the present day and surely into the future.

Much speculation has been made of the singer’s death, but it is widely agreed that it was a terrible accident of which nobody could have reasonably predicted—at the time he was recording new tracks, writing new material, and was said to be in the best spirits his friends had ever known of; Jeff left behind a legacy of music that lives on to this day, even though he recorded just one significant studio album: Grace.

Buckley’s hallowed music was comprised of the kind of haunting, shape-shifting melodies that deny simple classification–they simply won’t be bent into conventional shapes, or made to tick standard boxes. It was rock, but sharpened in all the right places, and also sometimes so soft and soothing that the words seemed to possess the song, as if the words had built the song themselves with no help or human touch.

Despite all this, Jeff Buckley’s work has somehow remained a mysterious presence in music, largely unknown to the general public. That said, most people will recognize his music, smiling as they say “I do know him–”

Jeff didn’t care much for the commercial side of music. He didn’t care if his music reached everyone it could, or even if people enjoyed what he was doing. He was only interested, for the most part, in creating new material that he wanted to make. Anything else was a secondary factor in the making of a life that many may not know, but many will also never forget.

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