#59: "Morning Theft" - Jeff Buckley

I'm not sure what happened tonight to make me want to write this so late while feeling anxious but I think that's why I'm sitting down to write in the first place.

First of all, I'm okay. Let's start with that. My breathing is back to normal. I am channeling any remaining anxiety into a keyboard right now, typing away around midnight on Wednesday, August 28th. Last week around this time, I was feeling similarly. I was thinking, "You're doing too much; slow down. that's why you're overwhelmed; you need a break." My body and mind said it was time for a break from media. I did that for a little bit. I even wrote here about how I craved a vacation of sorts. But I needed to get this out now.

My brain decided that I was probably not going to sleep. There's no trigger, no reason for the sudden bout of insomnia, at least on the surface. Perhaps it's the insane heat or the consistent lightning outside my window. At one point, it was so bright I yelled out loud, "holy shit," since I'd never seen it get that bright and vivid before. A beautiful sight. It was an elongated lightning bolt, shot against the sky brilliantly right as I lay in bed, hoping for rest.

Then, out of nowhere, a favorite song came into my head; of course, it was Jeff Buckley. The wild thing about my brain is that there's a radio inside. It will play random snippets of songs at any given moment. I could be standing in the middle of an aisle of books at the library when, for no good reason, I start hearing that cheesy Waylon Jennings song from the movie Follow That Bird. Then I wonder why that would even come into my brain at that particular moment. Is it because I just watched that movie a lot as a kid? Has the act of repetition assured a permanent place in my head?

I have felt Jeff Buckley was a long lost dream brother or friend. I have certainly written about his music here already, we all know Grace was a game changer for me in many ways. But I haven't written about my favorite song of his that is guaranteed to make me cry at a pivotal point later on.

I've been crying a lot lately. I got good news that made me cry about my job. I watched a movie called His Three Daughters about three women coming together as their father is slowly dying, and well, duh, of course I was going to cry then. Jeff Buckley once said in an interview that he wrote songs for people who cry in the middle of the night, driving in their car. You can bet that was me when I lived in the suburbs and experienced any loss of love.

In 2002, my fiancée at the time and I had broken up a few months after my dad passed away. For such a long time after, I would listen to Jeff Buckley as almost like a spiritual comfort. I didn't need to go to church when I could listen to Live at Sin-E or Sketches for my Sweetheart the Drunk. I did have trouble listening to Grace; I associated it with my ex. Somehow, I was able to listen to everything else. Especially "Morning Theft." To this day, it is in my top five favorite songs ever recorded. And as far as I know, the only existing version is a demo you can hear on Sketches for my Sweetheart the Drunk.

If I had stopped typing through my anxiety right now and listened to this song, I probably wouldn't come back to this for a while. I'd be crying hard and trying to avoid that, especially since it can be dangerous to be alone with dark thoughts AND tears. Why not write through them instead? Besides, the song is in my head anyway. It's a bit like an ocean of emotions where the tides don't seem to want to settle down that much. They’re itching to move.

I turned off the air conditioning in the room because I wanted silence for a while tonight. It's been too hot here in Chicago, and all I've been hearing besides music is the repetitive, lazy hum of the a/c unit. I said, I need it to stop. Just like I need the anxiety to stop - something my grandmother had, and she couldn't sleep. It's something my mother still wrestles with, and it affects her sleep. This is not unfamiliar. Sadly, it's all too familiar. Heck it happened about this same time last week. Wednesday, goddamn you!

Prolonged happiness alludes me, maybe because it's hard to actually 'be' present and in the moment. There's the fear of failure, the fear of a difficult future, the fear of joy going away completely and the idea of being ultimately unfulfilled. I keep thinking about people like Bridget Andersen from Savannah Smiles, who died too young after being unfulfilled then turning to drugs. And, of course, Jeff, who drowned in the Memphis River, was way too young.

The tide swept him away quickly, much like the teenage boy in the film Falcon Lake. Maybe that's what Jeff wanted, but somehow I doubt it. Though of course people assume that someone that emotionally naked and in touch with his feelings might've been prone to take his own life. Why think that way when there's no certainty on that? We weren't there. I believe it was an accident and that’s what the death certificate states as well.

The thing is, something in me always wondered about "Morning Theft." Who was this "beautiful friend" he is singing about? It's been written that it could've been Elizabeth Fraser of the Cocteau Twins. He may have fallen in love with her, but it didn't work out, or she was already married. Timeline is fuzzy. Again, this is all theorizing and a rare occasion of me deciding not to cite other writing or look up sources this time at this odd hour. Sometimes, the words just fall out onto the page, and you only hope they make sense.

Jeff was trying to make sense of something pure and honest in this song that I immediately understood the first time I heard it. I love everything about this song, but it's also a demo, never fully realized the way he might've wanted it to be. It's actually straightforward for a little while, but then there's a turn where suddenly, I feel at peace because someone understands me and has written not just the right words but a lullaby to go along with it. The other times I feel this sense of peace is with someone close, lying in bed, lost in conversation. True self brought Jeff here to me and I feel so accepting of my love for not just this song, but for self-expression and the act of making music itself.

After he sings the words "unexamined failure," this song becomes everything I feel inside, whether I'm experiencing a similar longing or a loss of love or not. It's not an overstatement to say that I become the song in some weird way. Like I'm no longer all of these blood vessels and atoms, my spirit temporarily transforms into chords, notes, and lyrics. It's a powerful feeling that does somehow override any modicum of anxiety. I no longer feel confused or alien. Of course, it's mostly about his voice and the words he's singing. The first section is stunning, and it’s everything I could ask for, but when his voice goes higher, singing, "Meet me tomorrow night or any day you want," that's it. Right there. The stuff dreams are made of. Perfection. Vulnerability. Love.

I almost transcend to a higher plane of existence. Maybe I avoided hallucinogens because I had music to get me higher than high. Many other things can stir this feeling, of course. A great film, an orgasm, a satisfying meal, cold water when thirsty, the sound of a cat purring, the breath of my lover on my neck. But there's also this song and that moment where his voice goes slightly higher than it was previously. I have no right to wonder how or when magic like this can happen. It does make you believe that the universe or God really wants you to be okay though. The meaning fits. That sense of connection is right there forever embedded into the recesses of memory.

There’s so much to adore here, particularly this extraordinary idea of “a heart that beats as both siphon and reservoir.” Could he be contemplating that true love can “bring us to who we need?” So by drawing desire out of ourselves, it can act as “a place where we can save” this bond, in hopes it doesn’t end up destroying us. The whole song is as close to being a definition and a sound of what it means to truly fall HARD for someone and never want it to go away.

Jeff isn't going anywhere even if his body no longer has a beating heart. He wrote this song, not just for me, but for anybody else who can't sleep and feels anxious on a midnight Wednesday. It's like he knew. Maybe he thought, "Jim may need this song in the future after his fiancée leaves and his dad passes suddenly. And then 22 years later, he may need it to get through a dark Wednesday night, so he'll write about how much this song means to him."

I get the impression that his love for Elizabeth Fraser got to him. Again, maybe they were just super close friends but of course, the romantic in me spins more towards the idea of unrequited love. A love that lead to him writing "Morning Theft." What does that song title mean? It may mean he can't sleep, that he will be up all night and if he does get to sleep, the morning will pass right by. He will probably get up around Noon if not later. Passionate desire is consuming his thoughts, for better and/or for worse. Instead of anxiety keeping him up on a Wednesday, it’s this insane longing. Why not channel it into words - manifest it into something that he can control and describe in a way that makes sense.

Love does that. It can cause restlessness. It can be inspiring to where you sit down and write not just thoughtful words but music that says everything. Any love can stir this, perhaps, not just the kind that involves closeness, longing and lust. The song could even be about music. Perhaps he was always writing into the wee hours of the night and rarely got to experience the morning. I can't speculate on what he was going through while writing this demo but it sure sounds like a ballad. I now only know what it has meant to me in my life. His voice and his words get me through a difficult night or lingering uncertainty. Perhaps for you, it's a film, it's a book, it's a pet, it's a loved one. I pray that everyone has a “Morning Theft” of some kind to turn to.

Much like a lover, a pet, a parent, or a damn good pair of headphones that allow me to hear this source of solace at any time, it's a reminder of a capacity to feel. Who cares if it means over-sensitivity or a sleepless night? It's better to feel a lot than nothing at all. This song connects me to the purest state of truth within the 'me' that I unconditionally love. I can sing this song. I have played it on guitar and piano. I'm not sure that I can say I always love myself (especially when anxious or depressed), but holy fuck, I love myself when I'm singing or recording a song or doing anything creative. I am learning to love myself through the eyes of someone else, slowly and surely.

I also love "Morning Theft" and the fact that it exists. I'm writing about it on a Wednesday morning. What is it about the middle of the week, both today and last week that has struck me with a lot of worry? Perhaps it's the anticipation of the weekend or a new job location next month. I often feel like the universe is often guiding me aimlessly. Maybe not, though. There could be a reason why I'm up, watching the skies.

Technically, I should be fast asleep, dreaming good dreams, hopefully, so I'm well rested for work. But my brain, the weather, the lightning, all had other plans. Why not make the most of it instead of pacing around the room making this weird little sound that I make when I get anxious? It sounds like a hum (perhaps akin to the hum of an air conditioner that I decided to turn off).

With all that said, there's no reason to die when there are so many great reasons to keep living. Aren't you curious to see if you find true love and if you get to grow old together? Aren't you excited that more great art is yet to exist and you'll possibly be around to experience it? "Morning Theft" is proof enough for me that I can no longer contemplate taking my own life anymore. It's almost like it was written for me to stay alive. Or to simply get through a sleepless night. Nothing more. Jeff was not my beautiful friend in real life, but I miss the idea of what he could’ve put out into the world had he lived. Still, this song exists along with others he made. He’s here for me, he’s here for you.

Jeff changed my life even though we never met. But I'm sure he couldn't sleep due to anxiety or depression or just having racing thoughts that he probably turned into a song. I turned that song into these words tonight; perhaps someone will read them. They might even feel comfort and gratitude in recognizing that there is a reason to keep going as long as the arts exist. I truly hope there's someone in your life, too. Someone closer than close, that gets you higher than high. Perhaps you should meet them tomorrow night or any day you want. Tell them how grateful you are to have met them. And that things may get better even if you can't sleep. There's always tomorrow. I’m learning to look forward to it rather than dreading the idea of waking up. After all, “Time takes care of the wound… so I can believe.”