Be easy. take your time. you are coming home to yourself….
he said: I want to be ripped apart by music. I want it to be something that feeds and replenishes, or that totally sucks the life out of you. I want to be dashed against the rocks….
Buckley didn’t live very long — he passed away at age 30 — but Grace chronicles his lifetime of astute observations and seasoned philosophies. His only other studio release, Sketches for My Sweetheart the Drunk, is a posthumous collection of material meant to be included on a sophomore album. It serves as a promising yet frustratingly curtailed look at what could have been. So then, Grace serves as Buckley’s lone definitive statement, a product of a talented and tormented soul’s outlook on addiction, abandonment, and waning romance.
Still, Grace should be remembered not for it’s grim portrayals of love and loss, but for its dedication to heart-exploding life; it isn’t so much the sound of the dashing troubadour cowering to his demons as it is a declaration of war with them. However sullen Buckley’s demeanor seemed, his sentiments were delivered with brazen forwardness, as if he had nothing to lose. On Grace, you see him burn the white flag. “It’s my time coming, I’m not afraid to die,” he coos on the title track. His bravery was palpable. With 18 years in the dust, Buckley’s opus hasn’t lost its touch.