Richard Buckner is a triple-threat: he’s a fantastic guitar player, a seriously poetic songwriter and a singer with one of those weathered and grainy voices that is a thing of sun-bleached beauty.
Buckner has been releasing deep and rewarding records for over 20 years. His songs often drift away from standard song form, generally doing without repeating refrains, though using melodic choruses. Buckner is one of those singers who can bring tears to your eyes, and you might not even be sure why. His 2006 record “Meadow” is both driving and heartbreaking.
Buckner has an eye for interior details — windows, curtains and doorways populate his songs. Characters in his songs often seem to be blowing town, ducking out the back without being noticed, following some tail lights in the rain or pondering the meaning of defeat. He’s a literary songwriter. (He’s written short stories, too.) He made a record using the death-haunted pieces of verse from “The Spoon River Anthology.”
Imagine some sort of composite of Bert Jansch, George Jones and Lawrence Ferlinghetti and that might give you an idea of Buckner’s artistry and heft.
See Richard Buckner at Cafe Nine, 250 State St., New Haven, on Nov. 18 at 4 p.m. $10 to $12. 203-789-8281 or cafenine.com