Welcome, Jeff Buckley
Thus far, Strange Fruit has been analysed in relation to its various contexts, genres and applications within contemporary pedagogy. This literature has expanded upon the song’s continued reemergence within the 20th and 21st centuries, and the resulting impacts on both its nuanced meaning as well as the development of audience reception. Aside from its contextual examinations, what such literature has failed to incorporate within the Strange Fruit discourse, is the evaluation of lesser-known realisations of the piece. So far, academic accounts have focused on the impacts more prolific composers such as Billie Holiday, Nina Simone and Kanye West have had on the cultural evolution of Strange Fruit, however, what remains under-examined is the song’s appearance within niche musical communities; the importance of which is yet to be explored.
As per the current discourse surrounding the continued reemergence of Strange Fruit, the focal point of the conversation lies in the inextricable link between the performer and the track’s realisation in different contexts. However, there is a fundamental oversight of Jeff Buckley’s adoption of Strange Fruit recorded at cafe Sin-é in 1993,which in turn leaves a gap in tracing a comprehensive history of the song.[1] As a result, the lack of scholarly writing in this area has lead to an underdeveloped understanding of the context through which Buckley performed it, as well as the technical factors which influenced his musical subversion of the song. Ultimately, this omission has lead to an unbalanced account of the ability Strange Fruit has in transcending a multitude of contextual barriers, simultaneously continuing to reappear with sustained cultural relevance for over 70 years.
The underlying root of understanding Strange Fruit relies on the musician’s authentic performance; the idea that the track is embodied both contextually and musically, by the artist. Current academics have overlooked the idea of placing these differing adoptions of Strange Fruit on a linear continuum, which would depict not only the story of how opinions surrounding the piece have changed, but the discrete musical developments which artists have fostered in relation to their own connection with the text. In order to place Jeff Buckley within this continuum, there must first be a critical engagement with his musical being.
From a musical perspective, there has been no intervention into comprehending the artistic choices Buckley had made in his own conjuring of the text, nor is there discussion on his awareness of performance history or the resulting influences Strange Fruit has had on his aesthetics. Previous scholars have used biographical information to infer specific ideas surrounding the philosophies of artists in their performances of Strange Fruit, however there is a lack in the academic exploration of the musical integrity that Jeff Buckley had specifically cultivated. This is the second major gap in scholarship, without which, dampens the idea that the relationship between musician and performance can’t exist in isolation; the point of conversation currently accepted in the Strange Fruit discourse. Ultimately, the lack of understanding of Buckley as a practitioner of jazz in the early 1990s needs to be rectified in order to rebalance correlations between Strange Fruit and its influence in underground New York.
Previous academic thinkers have placed Strange Fruit within a realm of music that is performed with a critical intentionality, connecting performances based off its ability to reflect artist aesthetics with the temporal contexts supporting its reemergence. Therefore, an analytical approach to the specific contexts [musical, physical and cultural] which encompassed Buckley’s experience of the early 1990s, may unlock the specific catalysts for his reintroduction of the text, in turn directing the Strange Fruit conversation toward a more critical account of its lesser known participants.
In intervening in the conversation in such a way, the notion of musical transcendence is further explored. As one of the first white American males to perform Strange Fruit, an assertive summation of the convergence of both the song’s and Buckley’s discourses respectively, highlights a new theme of academic discussion; gendered and/or racialised performance legacies.
The story Strange Fruit maintains through contemporary discourse, is its ability to transcend a variety of barriers; specifically, temporal. What is yet to be considered is the gendered and/or racialised aspect of its performance. As a result of Jeff Buckley’s exclusion in the Strange Fruit conversation, these questions until now, haven’t been addressed. Although there have been multiple under-examined performances of Strange Fruit, the indisputable difference of character at play, is rooted in Buckley’s adoption. Ideas surrounding the agency African American artists hold as storytellers of the oppression uniquely tied to their cultural experience, until now remains untouched within Strange Fruit’s academic investigation. Consequently, new findings challenge notions of artistic empathy with disjointed performance histories.
The significance of examining these points in Strange Fruit’s history, is to maintain a balanced account of how and why the song has been able to transcend such a conglomerate of barriers. In order to do so, the incorporation of a new scholarly story surrounding Jeff Buckley as a practitioner of the blues is also uncovered in an attempt to present a more critical account of the life Strange Fruit continues to live.
Buckley, Blues and the 1990s
So far, scholars have outlined inextricable links between performer and performance. Whilst this is true of any musical work, the cultural weight Strange Fruit projects onto both musicians and listeners is significant. The textual ugliness of the piece and what it represents, results in the relationship its musical realisation has had, and will continue to have with jazz. In prioritising specific artist contributions to the life of a song, and the impact certain performances can have in niche receptions of the blues, Jeff Buckley’s realisation of Strange Fruit acts as an important marker in the chronology of the song’s continued relevance and representation.
In order to fill the gap surrounding the academic oversight of Jeff Buckley’s 1993 Strange Fruit, there must first be an initial exploration into Buckley as a practitioner of the blues. Blues music is often formulated on personal experience, uniquely tied to that of African American culture. Salamishah Tillet (2014) gave rise to the inclusion of Strange Fruit in realms outside of the blues, yet even so, in any musical setting where the song appears, remnants of both its musical roots and blatant protest will still remain.[2] The scholarly analysis of Strange Fruit’s timeline has proved this; it is performed for a very specific reason and the ties to its respective performers are vital in comprehending how it has been able to transcend a multitude of contextual barriers to still hold relevance in both racial and musical conversations today.
A study of Buckley’s musical identity provides insight into the ability he had in conjuring the text. Currently, the academic discourse surrounding Jeff Buckley is limited to the heavily romanticised conjecture pertaining to a metaphoric and enigmatic account of his life, ultimately linking his music to the circumstance of his death. His image in the academic eye lies half in his renowned falsetto, and half within the esoteric, musical entity he represents. What is missing is the exploration of the sonic and philosophical influences which enabled his establishment of this musical identity in the first place; navigating past notions of a virtuosic yet brooding grunge artist toward the recognition of his place within the jazz and blues landscape.
Jeff Buckley was a practitioner of the blues before the release of his first EP Live at Sin-é [where his version of Strange Fruit was first recorded] and, in turn, before his adoption of Strange Fruit in a live performance setting. In 1985 Buckley attended and completed a one year course in guitar performance as the Musicians Institute in Hollywood, where jazz studies was [and continues to be] a large constituent of curricular pathways.[3] Buckley noted his enthusiasm for his tuition in music theory in a 1995 interview stating that he "was attracted to really interesting harmonies, stuff that I would later hear in Ravel, Ellington and Bartók".[4] Buckley’s personal music library, which was made available to internet users by Mary Guibert [mother] in 2016, also serves as evidence of his musical upbringing and connections with the blues. Moreover, his sonic evolution can be traced to his infatuation and admiration for these musicians, including Nina Simone whom he deemed "totally brilliant,". These people became teachers for Buckley, who consumed his "every waking thought".[5]
"He gave me a really deep love of jazz. Fusion or jazz rock just annoys the hell out of me… all I see is there is a lot of people who are afraid of what real music is. I don’t see any heart, I just see a lot of chops and whizkid bullshit, and a lot of damage being done. Miles was naked, very romantic".[6]
Whilst there are hints of jazz influences in performances of other works, ultimately creating a fusion feel, Buckley’s Strange Fruit is musically encompassed by the structures of blues music only. Furthermore, this adamant rhetoric Buckley employed over what 'real music' is, inadvertently supports the idea that his contribution to the Strange Fruitstory is significant on a purely musical level, as well as a social one. In staying true to the text’s musical imagining, even with personal expressive interventions, Buckley’s performance of Strange Fruit is one which meshes the cultural experience certain genres of music speak to, with the undeniable purpose and meaning the song represents.
Sin-é, the venue which housed Buckley’s Strange Fruit
Jeff Buckley’s musical career was still in a fledgling state in the eyes of commercial success when he first performed Strange Fruit. This accounts for the somewhat fickle evidence which supports his musical integrity prior to the 1990s; whilst there now remains a massive online database of bootleg recordings, demos and studio sessions which all showcase a similar blues artistry as heard on Strange Fruit, Sin-é marked the beginning of his solo career.[7] In the same way that the comprehension of the musical environments which shaped Buckley’s sonic identity is inherent in narrating the significance of his Strange Fruit performance. Specifically, the comprehension of the role Sin-é played as a venue, in shaping Buckley’s reintroduction of Strange Fruit into a public consciousness is required in redirecting the current state of play.
Shortly after its opening in 1991, Buckley began playing Monday night sets at the small New York coffeehouse. This was a place that fostered the creative development of live performance, an experimental playground for Buckley, who played sets that lasted between 45 seconds to 2 hours at a time. Owner Shane Doyle’s humbling account of Buckley’s character is one to be noted, "he’d stop by to sing at 2 in the morning, and it doesn’t matter if only a handful of people are here… he often helps wash the dishes, too", in that it depicts the ethos which guided his musical endeavours as authentic and genuine.[8] Sin-é allowed Buckley the ultimate freedom of performance, acting as a conduit for cultivating a public identity and following, up until the time of recording 2 years later.
Jeff Buckley’s first EP was released in November 1993 as a four track play entitled Live at Sin-é.[9] The recording came about through Buckley’s then recent signing with Columbia, more or less as a publicity experiment. It was rare that artists would be signed without having any completed demos; some argue that Buckley was signed purely as a result of the identity and fanbase he had already cultivated at Sin-é, whilst others, including himself to an extent, argued that his name [son of cult folk singer, Tim Buckley] alone was the driving factor. Simply, the release of this EP came years after Buckley first stepped foot into the venue, and acted as a primer for what was yet to come. Buckley would later on reference the EP as "a love letter to that place. I love Sin-é".[10]
The EP was recorded over 2 sets between July and August of 1993, and toward the tail end of each, people were spilling over the chessboard sized tables of the cafe and out onto the street. The intimacy created by Buckley’s performances captured the attention of so many that even though the venue was long past its loaded capacity, there are moments of utter silence captured at the end of each song, before audiences lapse into applause. In having access to such an intimate venue and the ability to connect so deeply with an audience, would have made setlist decisions significantly important. Whilst Sin-é allowed performative freedom, it also held so much power in determining who Buckley was going to be. The incorporation of Strange Fruit into his weekly Monday night performances and in conjunction with his relationship with Columbia, Buckley would become more than the eclectic musical jukebox, an identity rampant in New York at the time; through the blues, he became a storyteller rather than an admirer.
The significance of having a detailed contextual understanding of the environment which fostered Buckley’s performance of Strange Fruit outlines the then infant nature of his musical career. There is therefore a multifaceted placement of meaning association; on a macro scale there is the cultural weight of Strange Fruit [ie. its literal references to the time of its performance], as well as the micro understanding of the possible implications such a performance can induce. This is were the common thread through the Strange Fruit scholarship frays. Billie Holiday’s initial debut of the song although massively impactful, was introduced within her already existent musical career. In the same way, Nina Simone used her already publicly known name to reintroduce the text in the late 1960s, and Kanye West had already released 12 studio albums before sampling the track in 2013. At the time of recording, there were fair few people outside of Sin-é who knew of Jeff Buckley.
Due to the polarity Strange Fruit had generated in the past with reference to both the critique of its jazz realisation as well as the dichotomy between the political rebellion and social fears it was able to conjure, the reason behind incorporating something as poignant not only within a first record but as a recurrent track at the venue for 2 years, indicates significant musical intention. Strange Fruit is arguably the most socially challenging text Buckley has performed, and to do so at a time where he was only just beginning was to some, a brave move, and to others, an honest one which allowed him to further showcase his philosophies on what it means to be a musician.
"… any time I take a cover and wear it on my sleeve, it’s because it had something to do with my life and still marks a time in my life when I needed that song more than anything ever".[11]
Scholars have shown that throughout history, Strange Fruit has been performed as a commentary on the injustices that remain at the time of its conjuring, and is performed to evoke a reaction, an understanding, and a plea for change. This is the reason that its re-emergence over time holds such high significance; even though it’s lyrics have never been the performer’s own, the sentiment remains. Sin-é was the opportunity which allowed Buckley to explore these ideas of creating meaningful musical experiences, for both the performer and their audience, bookmarking his contextual sensitivities and cultural awareness. Furthermore it highlights the power music has in transporting people to worlds other than their own, a theme entangled with both the reception Strange Fruit demands, as well as the intimacy and closeness that Sin-é provided.
The music, the music, the music
Whilst the remnants of Holiday and Simone remain entangled within his compositional interpretation, the musical integrity of Buckley’s Strange Fruit performance is defined by his restructuring of the piece texturally, harmonically and rhythmically.
Buckley shifts away from the vocalist and accompaniment relationship, towards creating a soundscape where two separate sonic lines coil together and challenge the vocalist’s ability to carry all emotional output on its own. The lyrics alone are enough to portray the meaning of the text, but until the release of Live at Sin-é, this has been through performers who are retelling the injustices of their own cultural experience. This is where Buckley doesn’t fit; the lynchings of African American people is not his story to tell, nor is it his pain to express. Instead, the performance becomes a tool in conveying Buckley’s emotional response to the cultural story which the song represents. Like Meeropol, Buckley’s personal conception of Strange Fruit is the product of outrage and encompassing sadness at the state of American Civil Rights.[12] Therefore relying on vocals alone in the realisation of the piece seems ill-fitting, by including a heightened guitar contribution this idea of an all-encompassing portrayal of feeling is more plausible than the alternatives; ie. telling a story that isn’t his, generalising and reinterpreting the pain expressed through the lyrics, or misunderstanding the narrative completely.
Although there is base level homophonic support generated through Buckley’s guitar playing, his lyrical phrasing of the instrument proposes the sharing of emotive reception and programmatic ability. The performance begins with a guitar improvisation lasting over 3 minutes, toying with both C#m pentatonic and harmonic scales, through fluid slides and short melodic motifs which bend and release over four octaves. Through audible EQ alterations in the introduction and the resulting increased levels of reverb and delay, channels a similar haunting effect which Lordi references in describing the impact of Holiday’s vocals. The lack of rhythmic intent through heavy rubato and free playing strengthens this idea of rejecting conventional accompaniment roles, moreover allowing Buckley to overtly convey the emotional grasp that Strange Fruit has on its performer.
As the vocal layer is introduced in the first verse, an increased tonal exploration allowed Buckley to alter the points of tension within the piece. In contrast to Holiday’s composition where the last lyric of each line is left on an unresolved chord, Buckley reverses this idea; "Southern trees, bear strange fruit" — Holiday leaves the word "fruit" hang on the seventh scale degree, whereas Buckley resolves this phrase entirely by concluding with a C#.
Separated by a hard guitar bend and release lick, the second verse supports more of a rhythmical intent. Simple quadruple time becomes a lot clearer as the guitar line begins to emphasise the first and third beats of the bar, alternating between staccato and muted triads. In this section Buckley’s vocals get grittier as the lyrics become more visceral; the uglier the song becomes, the graver the tone Buckley conjures, contrasting the falsetto he is renowned for. The second half of this verse however takes on a very different shape; the lyric "scent of magnolia, sweet and fresh" invokes another period of lost rhythmic drive before hinting at a fickle undertone of a 6/8 pulse, heavily pressed with rubato. At this point there is more of a focus on vocal expression. Lyrically, the contrast between "magnolia" and "burning flesh" supports a sonic divide which is vocally conveyed through sustained vibrato that shifts toward microtonal vocal control, to a rasp and vocal break concluding the phrase. What follows is a vocal improvisation spanning almost 2 minutes, Buckley’s falsetto makes an appearance, both conversing with trilled guitar passages and muted chords which accent 6/8 quavers, as well as imitating these guitar lines through unrestrained vocal bends and slides.
In reference to the musical influences which shaped Buckley’s sonic identity, more specifically his love of Nina Simone, it is important to note the lyrical fidelity to the original Holiday performance in the final verse. The phrase "for the tree to drop" was altered by Simone in 1965 to read "for the leaves to drop".[13] The importance in recognising this choice further strengthens the idea that Buckley’s Strange Fruit was a performance driven solely by musical exploration, but as a result of a more socially aware intention. There is no shortage of evidence of Buckley’s emphatic adoration of Nina Simone; the fact that he didn’t blindly follow her lead on his performance shows a level of cultural maturity and sensitivity akin to the artists who have previously performed Strange Fruit.
The coda of Buckley’s performance once again loses rhythmic intention, focusing more so on expressive output than rhythmic groove. All forms of accompaniment are emptied in the removal of the guitar line, Buckley performing a cappella until the last lyric "crop" where an arpeggiated C#m7 is played at low volume. Whilst the vocals resolve to a C#, the underlying 7th of the chord creates a subtle sense of unease and tension, ie. the story that Buckley was telling wasn’t over yet. Pertaining to possible reasons for his performance, in leaving the piece harmonically unresolved, Buckley speaks to a call for action, maintaining that Strange Fruit is not only a lament, but a protest.
It is through these compositional changes of melodic contour and rhythmic integrity, that Buckley is able to project his own expression. Still remaining within blues territory, the nuances Buckley imposes creates a respectful reimagining of the piece, rejecting the notion of a mindless carbon copy. Whilst it isn’t his story to tell per say, the experience of the story remains his; "Jeff sang each song as if he wasn’t merely doing a remake, but inhabiting the song like a favourite old coat".[14] Concluding from the scholarly recounting of its cultural impacts, the track isn’t one to cover on a whim, or to showcase virtuosity, the political and social weight of its history outweigh any personal drive for entertainment. The musical freedom Buckley conveys is therefore a result of the emotional impact behind the lyrics, and his restructuring of its musical integrity comes from his ability to "shape sound in order to fit a feeling".[15]
Music, as the vehicle for intentionality and cultural awareness
In gaining an all-encompassing knowledge of the multifaceted contributions made to Buckley’s musical conjuring of Strange Fruit, suggestions of performance intentions can be uncovered. Strange Fruit is a text which reckons with its time and holds an unbridled dissent from political norms, portraying a visceral outcry against racism within American culture. Hence suggesting that its reappearance through history is not a phenomenon based off of musical taste or experimental desire, rather as a reflection and product of the time of its respective conjuring. This is not to say that its musical component is secondary, rather it acknowledges that music is the vehicle in which the track is able to be reintroduced into public consciousness, however the intention behind it’s reintroduction is rooted elsewhere.
Between Buckley’s initial inclusion within the Sin-é musical world in 1991 and the EP recorded by Columbia in 1993, the tumultuous scene of American Civil Rights saw some of the most socially influential events take place. In particular, those surrounding Rodney King could have formed the trigger for Buckley’s adoption of Strange Fruit. In 1991, American construction worker Rodney King, survived an act of police brutality. Since the attack on the 3rd of March 1991, King became an activist for the rectification of such crimes against African American people. The story evoked a worldwide rage after three of the four LAPD officers were acquitted in 1992, and within hours the 1992 Los Angeles riots began. In 1993, the case had been presented before the federal grand jury of LA, where two of the four officers were re-sentenced to prison.[16] The timeline of this monumental moment in American civil rights history lines up chronologically with Buckley’s initial Sin-é performances, up until the recording and release of his first EP.
Like many scholars before, this conversation has utilised biographic and contextual analysis in order to make assumptions regarding the continued provocation of Strange Fruit over time. Due to the narrow array of sources which document Buckley’s reasoning and choice of cover material, conclusions to this question of intentionality must be informed by the cohesion of performance histories with personal accounts of societal commentary.
"There’s so many things about trying to be a human being that people don’t even have a handle on… what they keep on emphasising in their lives are really violent things that hurt other people, which are really just reflections of them … and it goes into racial prejudice. I also see traits or 'sins' and how they’re passed down to our children by default. The issue itself is so insidious, I cannot tell you what it does to me to pass this down to a child. Passing down your own frustrations and anger is like poison. You think… whoever you are… if at one point you think that messing somebody up, for something that you can’t comprehend is where it’s at, then it’s too late already."
Buckley’s musical relationship with Nina Simone is undeniable, which is something seen not only in direct references, but in Buckley’s discography. Through their shared philosophies on the musician’s role, accounting for his intervention within the Strange Fruit performance history could be linked to the purpose of the musician. In an interview surrounding the then reintroduction of Strange Fruit in 1965, Simone stated that "an artist’s duty… is to reflect the times. We will shape and mould this country or it will not be moulded and shaped at all anymore.", outlining the notion that music is a vehicle for partaking in societal intervention, a conduit for ultimate personal intentionality.[17] This critical intentionality behind Buckley’s Strange Fruit therefore can be linked with philosophies of the role music has in shaping morality. The shared notion that the aim of music "is to coordinate the minds of people into an intelligent reach for a better world, and an intelligent approach to the living future", outlines the idea that jazz holds a didactic functionality, and that it is through contextual references which pedagogical tools exist.[18]
Although Strange Fruit was recorded in 1993, the EP that was released that year was only 4 tracks long, and the Holiday cover did not make the final cut. Rereleased as a legacy edition posthumously in 2003, the deluxe extension resulted in the release of Strange Fruit alongside 20 other previously unreleased recordings from the accumulative 5 hours of performance.[19] Whilst the choice not to include Strange Fruit on the original release of the album is not an inconceivable idea from a commercial standpoint, its public release in 2003 was dedicated "in loving memory of Nina Simone" who passed away just weeks before.[20] This fact alone further strengthens the musical ties between the two artists, simultaneously providing insight into Buckley’s inclusion of the song in live performance all together.
What’s the point? Social territories, performance legacy and the agency of cultural storytellers
Contextualised social territories are explored through Jeff Buckley’s compositional mastery as heard in his conjuring of Strange Fruit. In doing so he articulated a temporal trajectory which energised the discussion of musical transience and significance; by 1993 Strange Fruit had been in musical circulation for over 50 years. However what is different here, is Buckley’s positioning within a specific performance legacy. After all the prior examination of its performance, what is left is this displacement of character and resulting ideas surrounding the racialised and gendered roots of experiential musical protest. Referencing Buckley’s theoretical understanding of the blues in parallel to his noted adoration of both Holiday and Simone, as well as his intellect and renown for critical thought, there seems to be a new story told through his performance. Paradoxically, within the obvious disjunction in artist representation that Buckley ultimately provokes, there is a sense of full circle and the return to the composition’s roots. Strange Fruit was written in 1937 by a Russian Jewish immigrant, Abel Meeropol, after being disgusted by a photograph of a lynched man in a New York newspaper; a text reflective of political outrage, rather than that retelling a cultural experience.
The song has since been adopted primarily by black African American women, strengthening the notion surrounding the agency these women have as storytellers of cultural oppression through the blues. The blues emerged ultimately as a response to both traditional African American culture and the mass experience of slavery; a form of oral tradition which communicates a shared heritage. Whilst this form of jazz exemplifies both improvisation and interaction, women were ultimately the pioneers of introducing the blues within a recorded history of American music. The Mother of the Blues, Ma Rainey, was the first to perform this style of music in the early 1900s, and thus the first known insertion of the blues into the commercial sphere.[21]
With this in mind, the performance legacy of Strange Fruit being mostly female is a story is yet to be fully realised, thus making Buckley’s intervention even more challenging to its chronology. Since Buckley’s renewal of the text between 1991, 1993 and its commercial release in 2003, there have been numerous adoptions of Strange Fruit by artists also positioned outside its African American performance practice. A key player who has made their way into the critical discourse on the appropriation of cultural texts, is Annie Lennox, who recorded Strange Fruit in 2014.[22] Lennox received backlash on her intentions behind the performance, reinterpreting the text as telling the story of generalised violence, a theme not exclusively linked to the African American culture stating "I know that this theme, this subject of violence and bigotry … is something that we as human beings have to deal with, it’s just going on 24/7".[23]
From this must come the discussion of performance rights. The life Strange Fruit has lived so far is evidence in of itself as a challenger of temporality, but due to the relationship between performer and performance, artist intentionality is also intertwined with provoking any sort of positive reception. Without an informed intentionality, the performance is tainted with appropriation and cultural insensitivity. Perhaps the agency of cultural storytellers is not one exclusively linked to race or gender, and Buckley’s performance of Strange Fruit is one based off of overt empathy, disgust and protest; returning to the roots of its original composition.
Whilst Jeff Buckley’s performance has seemingly flown under the radar of both academic analysis as well as public critique, it challenges the role of the artist as a teller of stories and a reflector of the contexts in which they find themselves. Through biographical, musical and contextual analysis, the assertions made ultimately use Buckley’s realisation of Strange Fruit as a key marker in the transcendence of the text. The importance of recognising the conspicuous difference in Buckley’s performance structure relative to context, music and character, paves the way for scholarly intervention which rebalances Strange Fruit’s story, and further explores its transcending power, to this day.
[1] Jeff Buckley, Strange Fruit. Live at Sin-é Legacy Edition (2003). [2] Tillet,"Strange Sampling" 125. [3] Browne, D., dream brother. (London: Fourth Estate, 2001) 94. [4] Farrar, J., Interview with Jeff Buckley. DoubleTake. 1996. [5] Mason, D., Interview with Jeff Buckley. NME 1994. [6] Buckley, J., Memoir On Miles Davis. 1992. [7] Browne, "dream brother" 148. [8] Browne, "dream brother" 166. [9] Buckley, Jeff, Live at Sin-é. 1993. [10] Buckley, Jeff,. Live at Sin-é Legacy Edition. 2003. Liner Notes. [11] Truth, A., Interview with Jeff Buckley. Plane Truth, 1995. [12] Mason, D. Interview with Jeff Buckley. 1995. [13] Simone, N., Strange Fruit. Pastel Blues. 1965. [14] Browne, "dream brother" 166. [15] Cunningham, J., Interview with Jeff Buckley. 1995. [16] Jacobs, Ronald N. "Civil society and crisis: Culture, discourse, and the Rodney King beating." American Journal of Sociology 101, no. 5 (1996): 1239. [17] Simone, N., "On the Role of the Artist" (1969) accessed via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9QRjz6TYmYk&frags=pl%2Cwn [18] Ra, Sun. The Immeasurable Equation: The Collected Poetry and Prose. (BoD–Books on Demand, 2005). 457. [19] Buckley, Jeff,. Live at Sin-é Legacy Edition. 2003. [20] Buckley, Jeff,. Live at Sin-é Legacy Edition. 2003. Liner Notes. [21] Davis, Angela Y. Blues Legacies and Black Feminism: Gertrude Ma Rainey, Bessie Smith, and Billie Holiday. (Vintage, 2011). 17. [22] Lennox, A., Strange Fruit. Nostalgia. 2014. [23] Smiley, T., Interview with Annie Lennox. HuffPost, 2014.
Comments