Tim Buckley LANDMARK: Greetings From L.A. by: Ed Butler Fri:11-Apr-08 Label: Straight Year: 1972 WB rating 90 out of 100

Everyone talks about the younger Buckley – reveres, idolizes, adores the younger Buckley. Jeff, who released only one album proper before his death, receives the plaudits, and the fame, that should at least be apportioned equally between him and his father, Tim.

The similarities between the two are striking, and indicative, perhaps, of the future direction that Jeff may have taken. Both dead before thirty, both passable dopplegangers of each other, and both bearing the ‘troubadour’ label early in their careers. However, Buckley Sr’s prolific output gave him ample opportunity to break out of the typecast of soulful balladeer before the end. And it was on Greetings From L.A. that he did just that.

Coming off the back of the poorly received Starsailor, the 1970 effort which did nothing to dispel his reputation for foppish folk-isms, Buckley spent the intervening years immersing himself in jazz, funk and R ‘n’ B records, while simultaneously beginning his enduring love affair with blaxploitation movies. Aligning himself with a new band, he set about putting his new musical vision to vinyl. And what a sweaty, feverish, sexually charged vision it turned out to be.

“I went down to the meat rack tavern/And found myself a big ol' healthy girl/Now she was drinking alone/What a waste of sin/So I went on over to sweet talk that girl/Lord I moved on in” croons the once wide-eyed balladeer, turned lustful funkster (‘Move with Me’). A tale of a casual sexual encounter, the song’s lively pianos, smooth horns and troupe of female backing singers all place Buckley in a velvet laced smoker’s lounge, a radical departures from the singer of old. Saucy lyrics of infidelity, raunch and erotica virtually pour out of his heretofore operatic lips, dripping over a collection of sizzling groove workouts.

‘Get on Top’ is, if possible, even sleazier, Buckley’s yelps and undulations sitting comfortably astride the sound of creaking bedsprings and the funkiest jazz-inspired keyboard and bass yet heard from a folk artist. To this day, the various key solos on this track can thrill to the very core. Because, in reality, this was one of the greatest reinventions since Dylan went electric. While perhaps lacking the earth-shattering musical impact of Mr Zimmerman’s efforts, Greetings From L.A. established a new sonic vocabulary for folk artists. The meshing of black and white music was hardly new, from Elvis to Johnny O’Keefe to Chuck Berry, but this was somehow different. This was a long-time folkie morphing to hip-swinging lothario in the public eye, and much of the public wasn’t quite ready.

And remember that this was not 2008, but 1972. The summer of love may have been a recent memory, but the world wasn’t quite ready for such blatant sexual proselytizing. And if it weren’t for the routinely thrilling music on display, the backlash may have been terminal. On ‘Hong Kong Bar’, Buckley channels the spirit of Robert Johnson to pump out some of the grooviest delta blues of the 1970s, while ‘Make it Right’ beat The Eagles to the punch by a good four years, and topped everything they would ever manage. “Come on and beat me, whip me, spank me,” he begs, “mama, make it right again”, relishing his newfound sexual virtuosity, comfortable at last in his depravity.

While there were undoubtedly commercial pressures involved in the shift from Starsailor’s swooping avant-garde-ism to the smooth honky-tonk of Greetings, Buckley’s penchant for surprise left-turns from release to release suggests otherwise. And while the grooves that drive the album are chart-worthy, the subject matter and Buckley’s improvised yelping – which preceded Michael Jackson by around a decade - most certainly weren’t.

Those who subscribe to the cult of Jeff Buckley often lament that life was cut short, depriving the world of the opportunity to witness clearly boundless talent blossom, basking in the potential of another Grace. But for anyone who cares to look, there is a clear exhibition in the possible twists and turns he could have taken. Tim, who died equally, and cruelly, early, and who, equally cruelly, is spared the applause and rapture his son earns, gave the world a demonstration of his family’s capabilities when Greetings From L.A. shimmied across the airwaves. It’s not hard to imagine Jeff’s career taking similar detours, but somewhat more difficult to envision that he could have pulled it off so successfully.