As part of its east coast tour, San Francisco-based And a Few to Break is also playing Tuesday, May 3, 9PM at the Velvet Lounge in Brady’s and my hometown of Washington, D.C. and Friday, May 6th, 10PM at the Water Street Lounge in Brooklyn.

As part of its east coast tour, San Francisco-based And a Few to Break is also playing Tuesday, May 3, 9PM at the Velvet Lounge in Brady’s and my hometown of Washington, D.C. and Friday, May 6th, 10PM at the Water Street Lounge in Brooklyn.

My friend struggled for a while to find a copy of “Hallelujah,” promising during the search that I was about aurally witness the most beautifully sung closing line in the history of everything. She wasn’t far off.* When I heard “Hallelujah,” I laughed. I laughed at myself. What’s the point? I remember thinking. Why would I ever try to write my own music if this song is out there?

In fact, this more or less happened. I used to be a rather proud musician. But Buckley ruined me. Playing and singing his songs did two things: 1) I became a better guitarist and singer than I ever imagined I could be, all through mimicry; 2) his lyrics unlocked such a huge store of emotion that I can’t possibly play in front of other people ever again. The last time I did, in the summer of 2001, I played “Lover, You Should Have Come Over” with my best friend at a dive bar in D.C. An audience member bowed to me once he recognized the song. My best friend told me it was the best vocal performance he’d ever heard. But it killed me. All this skill they/I thought I had was just me hawking a dead man’s goods.

*Though when I speak of the fetishizing of Jeff Buckley, it’s this exact line I think of.

My friend struggled for a while to find a copy of “Hallelujah,” promising during the search that I was about aurally witness the most beautifully sung closing line in the history of everything. She wasn’t far off.* When I heard “Hallelujah,” I laughed. I laughed at myself. What’s the point? I remember thinking. Why would I ever try to write my own music if this song is out there?

In fact, this more or less happened. I used to be a rather proud musician. But Buckley ruined me. Playing and singing his songs did two things: 1) I became a better guitarist and singer than I ever imagined I could be, all through mimicry; 2) his lyrics unlocked such a huge store of emotion that I can’t possibly play in front of other people ever again. The last time I did, in the summer of 2001, I played “Lover, You Should Have Come Over” with my best friend at a dive bar in D.C. An audience member bowed to me once he recognized the song. My best friend told me it was the best vocal performance he’d ever heard. But it killed me. All this skill they/I thought I had was just me hawking a dead man’s goods.

*Though when I speak of the fetishizing of Jeff Buckley, it’s this exact line I think of.