I’m up again, and this week we have:
Tim Buckley - Greetings From L.A. (1972, Funk-Rock, RnB)
It would be a real shame if this album remains dismissed by history as Tim’s ‘sellout record’. That is more or less true, but if its going to be forgotten it should be for the misogyny (and potential casual racism?) not only rooted in its time, but stemming from Tim’s significant interpersonal issues.
On the content:
That may seem a strange way to introduce one of my favourite ever albums, but I just wanted to acknowledge that I’m aware of how dated it is in that aspect, and that parts of it still make me cringe.
But the bigger story is much more interesting than all that.
On the context:
Tim Buckley first made a splash in the NYC East Village 60’s folk scene, and was pre-emptively billed by his label somehow both as ‘the next Bob Dylan’, and to make the ‘next Sgt. Peppers’ (he obviously failed at these lofty goals, but still scored a hardcore base of fans).
Forever rejecting all criticism and praise, these fans were quickly alienated by his uncooperative and untenable pivot into experimental vocal Jazz. This era coincided with the worst of his heavy drug abuse; and still perpetually distancing himself from both his management and even his new Jazz fans, he again backed himself into a corner.
Greetings From L.A. is the result of finally being able to show up to the studio on time, sober, and willing to cooperate in the studio with other people. Even if the primary motivation was that he had forced himself into a position of simply needing to make something that people might want to buy.
The Folk fans hated it, the Jazz fans hated the commercial sound, and the label hated that it still failed to sell enough copies:
On the album itself:
Musically, he is mimicking his one and only hero Miles Davis with a challenging pivot into heavy Funk-Fusion. Given that he was the son of a Irish immigrant decorated WWII veteran from an industrial town in New York State, you could think of this as like the Blue-Eyed Soul version of Bitches Brew (or probably On The Corner if you know your Davis, it is a lot more reigned-in than BB).
But at face value surely no one could hate this record as much as Tim hates and exposes himself through what is severely underrated as probably the most impassioned and honest vocal performance I’ve ever heard. This brings me to why I like it so much, it may even be just one of the most passionate pieces of music ever to me.
At the very least, nothing else I have found can induce anywhere near the same level of frisson as the strings in Sweet Surrender, the most sensitive moment on the rollercoaster of ups and downs this goes through.
This also goes to show that the band (I believe they were mostly session musicians working with Tim for the first time) were also operating at a very high level. The vocals are very in your face, but if you can manage to hear past them you also get some seriously heavy and tight performances.
King Gizzard like to joke about ‘white-boy funk’, but this is really the epitome.
If you weren’t aware, Tim is the father of Jeff Buckley, who’s single completed album has left a much better-known (and better deserved) musical legacy than his father that totally abandoned him and his mother. They only truly met once for a week during Jeff’s childhood, and the emotive and complex dialogue they left to each other through their discographies was the best relationship they had.
I hope you can find something special in this deeply flawed, brilliant album.
Apologies for the extra-long intro. This was the first album I submitted for the club, and now that we are in a rhythm with it I found myself needing to justify this choice a lot more once I got started.
So… sorry (but not sorry) in advance .