Jeff Buckley's “Hallelujah”

When my mom died, she was carrying Leonard Cohen's "I'm Your Man" audio cassette in her purse. I played Cohen's “Hallelujah” until the tape warped. Only song that got me through her death. 
 
Many people think Tim Buckley's son, Jeff Buckley wrote “Hallelujah”—but it is Leonard Cohen's song. Buckley drowned during a spontaneous evening swim—fully clothed—in the Wolf River Harbor, a slackwater channel of the mighty Mississippi River, caught in the wake of a passing boat, 1997. Buckley went down, boots and all, singing the chorus of "Whole Lotta Love" by Led Zeppelin.

Chart success also came posthumously to Jeff Buckley, with "Hallelujah" he attained his first #1 on Billboard's Hot Digital Songs in March 2008. But wasn't around to enjoy the accolades.

Rufus Wainwrignt knew Jeff Buckley, and recorded his version after Jeff. I don't like Rufus' whiny tone (in Shrek). I prefer Leonard's gravelly first release (I'm Your Man), and there are several Jeff Buckley versions of “Hallelujah” on YouTube.

My AmieStreet Music RECcomendations in plain text

NB: this is an addendum to my first AmieStreet blog entry which I had fortuitously copied just as Amazon had taken over the site and taken down everything I had ever written. Because I had a browser open as Amazon killed the site I was lucky enough to go back and copy everything and paste it here, but I couldn't get the reviews to show up right—I tried everything. 

And when Blogger goes wrong on long pieces, it goes very, very wrong. I can't tell you how many times I've tried to ameliorate my Irish Redhead Gene Myth blog—sans losing every URL—and that piece has enough URLS to sink a ship. The more I fiddled, the worse it got. After many mishaps, I finally managed to get rid of all the hidden HTML bits–and scrub it scrupulously clean to repost here. (In case you're wondering why on earth I posted this piece.)

A note on the process of AmieStreet RECing. After a song was purchased, we were given an opportunity to recommend it. Writing against a ticking clock, and once posted, only 15 minutes to revise & edit your REC, made it a rather fast & furious art form. Very Zen. Whatever came to the surface. On your marks, get set....

Funnily enough, I actually earned 15 cents on John Riley–just as the AmieStreet site was taken over at midnight by Amazon. And of course, couldn't cash out on all my hard-earned pennies! Sorta like going to Vegas and being handed that little strip of paper instead of a real jackpot with coins clanging and bells clamoring. LOL. Read on.

Boschka Layton on Glenn Gould

I remember Boschka Layton talking of Glenn Gould, she recalled the brilliance of his conversations. The way he played Bach. He must've been a family, or childhood friend, for when he died, she was devastated. 

I remember Boschka's poem for Glenn Gould. I wish I had a copy of it.

Her family was quite extraordinary to draw so many interesting people to its bosom, Leonard Cohen, Irving Layton, and of course, her half-brother, Donald Sutherland's fame comes from that same bosom as well. 

In the character who played Glenn Gould, I heard Donald Sutherland's accent, his voice trilled in the ear, but it was not him. It serve to spark this memory of Boschka, or Betty Sutherland, as she was known then, and Glenn Gould.

Funny how memory works like that, and I was wanting more information, but she is dead these past 14 years. She would've enjoyed this movie, and I watched it for her, remembering all the silly things we used to talk about.

Irving must've gotten ahold of some of my old letters to Boschka, or did they send her papers to him later? I recently received a form letter from McGill University wanting to put my letters to Boschka into Irving's archives, into his literary estate. I had to laugh. And I am such a very minor footnote.

GLENN GOULD'S MUSIC IN DEEP SPACE

Sometimes it feels like that,

the sound of footsteps receding in snow,

and one forgets the loneliness of leaves in autumn. 

My mother madly painted while I was in the womb, 

the colors permeated, and crossed the membrane, 

and later I would be nostalgic for places 

I had never been to before. 

What accounts for a life of miracles? 

Early memories, or of things yet to come? 

Stacking wood, I think of how art 

has always been present in my life. 

Coming up with answers was always harder. 

Poets are always on the verge of tears, 

we could fill lakes haunted by music. 

Voyager has left our solar system,

carrying a gold record of Bach,
with Glenn Gould at the keyboard,
crooning into the folds of deep space.

Nov 3, 1995

added 11/17 minor revisions