toytigers: Sketches for My Sweetheart The Drunk (Expanded Edition) by Jeff Buckley

I have a strange, almost visceral relationship with Sketches for My Sweetheart The Drunk. It's been a constant companion since I was 16, arriving just before the first real loss in my life. Back then, I was in the throes of my first relationship, deep into sexual exploration and trying to figure out who I was. But when that loss hit, just before Christmas, this album stayed with me in a way nothing else did. It followed me as my world grew darker and my mental health nosedived. By the end of that school year, I was ready to leave everything behind—ideas, parts of myself. I ended my relationship and withdrew, letting the summer heal me in its quiet way. It felt like the close of one chapter, with the sun offering the warmth I needed. But through all of it, Sketches never left my side. The second disc, in particular, always stuck with me. It feels like the real follow-up to Grace, but more than that—it's the rawness, the sense of isolation. Buckley holed up in a house in Mississippi, using anything and everything to create sound, even the house itself. Sure, it was cleaned up and polished later, but you can still hear that rawness if you listen closely. It's that imperfect, experimental vibe that resonates most with me, even now.

Sketches for My Sweetheart The Drunk (Expanded Edition)

5/26/1998