Remember me?  Jeff Buckley drowned three years ago. He'd seemed
on the brink of a brilliant rock 'n' roll future. Yet he had
never shaken off his obsession, part anger, part yearning, with
the father he had barely known - Tim Buckley, legendary singer-
songwriter. David Browne on their lives and destiny  Although
dusk was in sight, the moist, breezy Memphis air still felt
mosquito-muggy inside and outside. It was May 1997 and Jeff
Buckley, who had turned 30 about six months earlier, emerged
from his bedroom in black jeans, ankle-high black boots, and a
white T-shirt with long black sleeves and "Altamont" (in honour
of the Rolling Stones' anarchic, death-shrouded 1969 concert)
inscribed on it. Though officially out of his 20s, he remained a
rock'n'roll kid at heart. As he and his tour manager Gene Bowen
stood outside on the front porch, Jeff said he was heading out
for a while. Generally Bowen would accompany Jeff on expeditions
while on tour, but tonight Bowen needed space. Some mattresses
would be delivered s