[Purchase]
Dear Penthouse;
Though I've been a long time reader of your fine magazine, I never thought I'd have a reason to write you a letter. That is, until a September day in 1972, when I purchased Tim Buckley's new album Greetings From L.A. The cover may have shown a smogged-in City of Angels, but the music inside was a crystal clear celebration of energetic, banging against the bedposts sex.
The album opens with "Move With Me" in which our "hero" meets a big ol' healthy black girl in a meat rack tavern and winds up in bed with her. It's all good until the man of the house walks in, grab shim by the throat and tosses him down the stairs. "Get On Top" was my introduction to Buckley: a celebration of the cowgirl position, speaking in tongues and squeaky bed springs.
Side Two finds Buckley driving a cab with a dangerous Vietnam vet in the back seat; remembering a love making session on a train and hitching a ride with hopes of finding the kind of girl who will "beat me whip me spank me"..and make it right again.
For the folksinger turned esoteric jazz man, Buckley's Greetings introduced a new phase featuring the "sex funk" sound that would last until Buckley's fatal overdose in 1975 at the age of 28. He left behind a strange assortment of albums and, of course, a son named Jeffrey Scott ( Jeff Buckley).
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