Vinyl Vault

After the fairly straightforward West Coast folk rock of Tim Buckley and Goodbye and Hello, 1969’s Happy Sad finds the young singer-songwriter transitioning to a more experimental sound. Featuring killer guitar work from Lee Underwood, stellar vibraphone from David Friedman and a much stronger jazz bent, the record marks the beginning of Buckley’s exploration of atmosphere, mood, and octave bending vocal gymnastics, elements that would take an even more avant garde turn on subsequent albums. After 40 years, how does Happy Sad stand up? Only a song-by-song analysis will reveal the answer.

Happy Sad (1969, Elektra Records)

Side A

  A1. “Strange Feelin’”
As soon as you hear David Friedman’s vibraphone kick off the opening track you know Happy Sad won’t be a rehash of the more electric based folk rock of Buckley’s first two records. And just in case you’re thinking it’s a fluke, these introductory bars are quickly followed by a minor key guitar vamp from Lee Underwood and an acoustic bass underpinning that’s pure jazz. Indeed, “Strange Feelin” was directly inspired by Miles Davis’ “All Blues,” with the melody of the song aping the tune from Kind of Blue. In addition to the departure in instrumentation, “Strange Feelin’” also introduces the listener to the more expansive vocal delivery that would become Buckley’s trademark for the rest of his brief career.

  A2. “Buzzin’ Fly”
As one of Buckley’s more accessible songs, “Buzzin’ Fly” is also one of his best. A snaking guitar line frames Buckley’s stellar performance, and even though its lyrics speak of a love gone wrong, the soaring melody manages to make this track sound positively uplifting.

  A3. “Love from Room 109 at the Islander (On Pacific Coast Highway)”
The centerpiece of the album, the song’s title is almost as long as its running time, which clocks in at nearly 11 minutes. Awash in the lulling vibe of ocean waves (quite literally), “Love from Room 109″ is a complex multi-part suite that features the small combo expertly complimenting Buckley’s intense delivery. Once the sound of the sea comes through the speakers at the song’s open, it’s hard to avert your attention from the mesmerizing music that follows.

Side B

  B1. “Dream Letter”
The bowing of a mournful cello combines with Underwood’s twinkling guitar lines and Friedman’s shimmering vibes as Buckley’s sings an apology to his ex-wife and then five year old son, Jeff Buckley. It’s a heart wrenching song that finds the songwriter asking the mother of his child, “Does he ask about me?” Buckley goes on to express regret for the wrongs of the past and reiterates the love he feels towards his son: “But when I get to thinkin’
’bout the old days. When love was here to stay. I wonder if we’d ever tried. Oh, what I’d give to hold him.”

  B2. “Gypsy Woman”
The longest track of the album, “Gypsy Woman” is basically an extended jam session that finds the band trying to follow Buckley’s vocal gymnastics. Punctuated by congas and rapid fire marimba, Buckley’s voice gyrates, twisting and turning from octave to octave as he exorcises the spirit from his body brought on by his gypsy woman. While clearly an impressive display of vocal range, the song is a bit overwrought for my tastes and lacks the discipline that marks the preceding tracks.

  B3. “Sing a Song For You”
The short final track finds Buckley returning to the more traditional folk stylings of his earlier work. It’s a pretty song with straightforward lyrics of devotion that works quite well as a closing statement of this adventurous record.

The Bottom Line

As a transition record, Happy Sad finds Buckley at his peak, perfectly balancing the more straightforward song structures of his early work with the vocal daring and avant-garde soundscapes of the experiments to come on Lorca and Starsailor. His attempt to stretch out and create space for his compositions is an unqualified success, making Happy Sad not just the best record of his career, but also one of the best of the decade.

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