Jeff Buckley: Mystery White Boy: Live '95-'96

Though they only met once, undeniable parallels exist between late-'60s/early-'70s troubadour Tim Buckley and his son Jeff. Both died young (Tim of a drug overdose at 27, Jeff of an accidental drowning at 30), both possessed remarkable vocal and dramatic range alongside a willingness to take stylistic and personal risks, and both left behind dizzying creative peaks. But their careers were vastly different: Though he died three years younger, Tim made nine albums to Jeff's two, and by the time of his death had become embittered and burned out, resorting to weary rock exercises like 1974's Look At The Fool. By contrast, Jeff was only scratching the surface of his abilities, as evidenced by 1998's posthumous compilation Sketches For My Sweetheart The Drunk, which found him experimenting in the studio with everything from soulful ballads to glam to prog to straightforward rock. The new live collection Mystery White Boy (recorded in Australia, Germany, San Francisco, and Seattle) should only increase his stature, already solidly built on word-of-mouth and an unmistakable influence on albums from Chris Cornell's solo record to Muse's debut. Uniformly strong, the set alternates between the obligatory staples from Grace ("Dream Brother," "Mojo Pin," "Eternal Life," "Last Goodbye," "Grace") and songs never before released in any form. Of those, highlights include the aggressive "I Woke Up In A Strange Place" (a Buckley original) and the swooning and spare Gershwin standard "The Man That Got Away," while a gorgeous 10-minute cover of Big Star's "Kanga Roo" (available in studio form only on the occasional B-side) jams without needless indulgence. As is the case with many of Buckley's concerts, the collection closes with what had become his signature song, a breathtaking reinvention of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah." Seamlessly blending in an excerpt from The Smiths' "I Know It's Over"—a gorgeous interlude, though at about 60 seconds, it's not quite newsworthy enough to warrant the "Medley" designation it gets—it's a fine way to close a magnificent collection. Here's hoping Buckley joins the ranks of musicians more prolific in death than in life (come to think of it, he already has), and that Columbia digs deeper into the vaults in the years to come. As for the elder Buckley, he's captured in his effervescent prime on Once I Was, a new set featuring rare session recordings and a live, 12-minute rendition of "I Don't Need It To Rain." The best tracks are drawn from a 1968 Peel Session, during which Buckley sticks primarily to radiantly intimate ballads ("Morning Glory," "Sing A Song For You," "Once I Was") that showcase his moody, rangy voice at the peak of his glory. Buckley was every bit the moony-eyed troubadour, singing unironically about vagabonds and hoboes and dolphins. But Once I Was still resonates today, proving itself a fine starting point for those looking to dig deeper into the rich Buckley legacy.