I never asked to be your mountain - interview with Marianne Faithfull about the death of singer Jeff Buckley - Interview

Interview, August, 1997 by Ingrid Sischy

When word went out that thirty-year-old singer/songwriter Jeff Buckley had gone missing while wading in the Memphis harbor near the Mississippi River, his many fans around the world kept a kind of vigil on the Internet, praying for a happy outcome even as they realized its near impossibility. Buckley, of course, was the son of legendary folk singer Tim Buckley, who died of a drug overdose at the age of twenty-eight. The thought that the young Buckley's life might also be cut so short was unfathomable, the potential tragedy weighted with the sense that history was repeating itself. Fathomable or no, nearly one week later... those fears were confirmed by the news that Buckley's body had been found. The title of this story comes from a Tim Buckley song Jeff sang at a tribute to his own father: "I Never Asked to Be Your Mountain." It describes the ambivalent relationship the young singer had with fame. But fame, it turns out, was in the stars. With a voice that has been described as otherworldly and a poet's gift for the sound of language, Jeff Buckley made a profound impact on anyone anywhere who ever heard his music. That group of people included Marianne Faithfull, who talks about it all here

INGRID SISCHY: The first question, Marianne, is: How did you meet Jeff?

MARIANNE FAITHFULL: Well, I actually went to see him at Sin-e very soon after he was discovered. I remember [music producer] Hal Wilner talking very excitedly about him. There was going to be a tribute to his father at St. Ann's [Church, in Brooklyn]. I missed that, but I used to go see all those gigs at Sin-e.

IS: And what did you think when you saw him?

MF: Of course, like everybody, I just completely fell in love with him.

IS: Why do you think that was?

MF: First of all, there's the voice.

IS: Describe the voice, Marianne.

MF: Well, it was ecstasy. It was like an ecstatic vision, pure joy; it was the sound of life itself. Just like Aretha [Franklin] is the sound of God, Jeff was the sound of ... well, it was very sexual, actually.

IS: You heard him before he became famous, right?

MF: Yes. When I first saw Jeff at Sin-e, during the first whole load of - well, I wouldn't say gigs, because he was just doing it; they were just sort of for the public. You know how tiny Sin-e is, so you know it wasn't a big deal, really, was it? And then came the day when all these big, big knobs came, first from little record companies and then bigger record companies. I wondered if a big label was going to be able to put this person across He was a very sensitive young man. I was worried about him.

IS: Were you more worried about him than you would have been about someone else?

MF: Oh yes. The word precious comes to mind. Very precious. As in, "Protect with care."

IS: Now, when did you actually get to know him?

MF: On the road, really, when I was touring with my band after my record A Secret Life came out [1995]. We were playing the same gig in a Roman amphitheater in Lyons. He was headlining and I was supporting. It was a starlit night in June. When it happened, I thought, This is a good one; we must do it again one day.

IS: What was it like to perform on the same bill as Jeff?

MF: It was heaven/And that was because it was heaven for the audience, you see.

IS: Knowing him a tiny bit, I would imagine he'd have felt a bond with you. Did the two of you ever have a chance to just hang out together?

MF: One time I was playing with Penny Arcade at the Village Gate [in New York City] and Jeff was there. He's a great friend of hers, or he was a great friend - I don't know how to say these things! Anyway, it was very good. I just did a couple of songs, and I guess I don't often reveal who I really am - or I hadn't to Jeff, anyway. I'd been more interested in watching him reveal himself And maybe he had never even seen me perform. But that was the first time he saw the thing, whatever happens with me when I perform. I guess he was completely entranced. He stuck to me like glue. Later we went on to the Fez Care, all of us, and we had a very silly, lovely evening, drinking a bit. Everyone was teasing me because I said that every song in the '60s was written about me. They were coming up with all the stupidest songs you can think of and saying, "OK, was 'Wooly Bully' written about your' We became great, great friends that night. We had the most wonderful time. And then he stayed around for a few days. By then it was my friend Fiona from Australia, Kate [Hyman], Jeff, and me. Jeff did these wonderful, charming things, like putting on a sort of fashion show for us where he tried on hats and became other people and put on funny voices. He was the funniest guy! I really want to convey the beauty, the joy of my experience with Jeff. It was just heaven in my forty-eighth year to find Jeff stuck to my side like a little burr.

IS: Had he become famous yet?

MF: Oh yeah. He certainly had. He'd rocketed up. But he was working so hard. That's the thing about having to work like that. When I was on Island Records, Chris [Blackwell, Island's founder and president] was very careful with me. He never would have allowed me to go on long tours like the ones Jeff did. I've just done nine and a half months. By the time we get to the Montreal Jazz Festival, I will have done 130 shows. But Jeff was doing like double that, if not triple. It wasn't hard to put Jeff on the road forever. Real musicians can really, really do it, and they love to, especially him. It was like heaven for Jeff to be singing.