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In the late 1970s, many music experts believed that Garland Jeffreys was destined to become a major star. Rolling Stone labeled him the “most promising artist” of 1977. The renowned PBS show Soundstage anticipated he would emerge as “the next performer to claim superstardom.” Powerful radio stations like WNEW-FM in New York heavily featured his songs “35 Millimeter Dreams” and “Wild in the Streets.” The sound that elicited such acclaim was characterized by vocals reminiscent of the sardonic style of Jeffreys’ close friend Lou Reed, blended with a theatrical rock flair similar to that of another friend, Bruce Springsteen—had he grown up in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn instead of New Jersey.
The belief in Jeffreys’ talent was so strong that, two decades later, he was still prominent enough for the popular TV quiz show Jeopardy to reference one of his most celebrated songs as an answer. Unfortunately, the response from the three contestants in 2000 revealed a disheartening gap: none recognized his song when mentioned. “That tells you everything,” reflects Claire Jeffreys, the singer’s wife of over 30 years and manager. “Garland was significant enough for Jeopardy’s writers to include his song, yet not well-known enough to elicit a single response from the general public.”
This feeling of lost potential is at the heart of a new documentary titled Garland Jeffreys: The King of In Between. The title refers to both Jeffreys’ genre-defying musical style—a blend of rock, reggae, and soul—and his identity as a mixed-race individual; the son of a Black father and Puerto Rican mother, struggling to carve out his place within the largely white rock scene of the ’70s and ’80s. This internal conflict became a recurring theme, underpinning many of his most impactful songs. “I don’t know anyone who discusses race with such candor as Garland,” Springsteen asserts in the documentary, which debuts at New York’s IFC Center on June 6, with additional screenings in select theaters following. The film will then stream on Amazon Prime, iTunes, Google Play, and Tubi starting in August.
Though the story of Jeffreys’ career is captivating, it has been overshadowed by significant personal events that have unfolded over the nine years since his wife began making the documentary. In 2018, the now 81-year-old musician showed signs of dementia, a condition that has since worsened, leaving him unable to care for himself and struggling to communicate. His wife has taken on the considerable responsibility of his care at their Manhattan apartment, supported by a home aide.
Despite this, she chose to omit his dementia from the film. “I felt it would overshadow the music and other aspects of his life,” she explains. Ultimately, she shares, she agreed to discuss this with Rolling Stone to provide fuller context to a narrative already rich with complex issues.
Sally Davies for Rolling Stone
Even now, years later, Jeffreys’ autobiographical approach to songwriting is still remarkable. “Garland has bravely tackled the subject of race in ways that are truly intimate,” observes guitarist Vernon Reid, who collaborated with Jeffreys on one of his albums in the ’90s. “His work contains an authenticity that sets it apart from others.”
Jeffreys introduced his unique style on the first track of his self-titled debut album in 1973. In the “Ballad of Me,” he articulated his mixed heritage: “Black and white as can be…a freak in the family/Like a newborn child/With a frozen smile.”
As his lyrics reflect, Jeffreys’ family life was tumultuous from the outset. His biological father abandoned the family when he was just two years old. His mother, described by his wife as “high maintenance,” remarried a few years later to a man who physically abused Garland for minor offenses. “His mother would report him, saying ‘Garland didn’t sweep the stoop,’ and then his father would hit him,” Claire recalls. “The person who should protect him, his mother, betraying him created a profound psychological distrust of people within him.”
Moreover, she notes, “It molded Garland into someone with a significant chip on his shoulder, both personally and in his career.”
Nonetheless, she points out that his childhood in Sheepshead Bay had many bright moments—some with family and others involving neighbors he would entertain by singing doo-wop on street corners, emulating his idol, Frankie Lymon. At seven, he started taking piano lessons in the city. By his early teenage years, he would sneak into jazz clubs in Greenwich Village to hear singer Carmen McRae—who is a distant relative—and saxophonist Sonny Rollins (who later played with him during his PBS Soundstage performance). A few years later, his father ensured Garland attended Syracuse University, a notable achievement for someone who primarily earned a living as a waiter.
While studying at Syracuse in the early 1960s, Garland became friends with fellow student Lou Reed. Reed’s songwriting, despite his limited vocal range, inspired the more vocally talented Jeffreys to perform his own music. Their connection was strengthened by their shared ability to embody the essence of New York City in their works. “You can hear New York in both of their sounds,” comments Laurie Anderson, who married Reed in 2008. “Both were closely connected to the street language, often riffing off each other’s ideas and transforming them into songs.”
After college, Jeffreys enrolled at the Institute of Fine Arts in New York but dropped out to follow his musical aspirations. In 1969, he contributed guitar to John Cale’s debut solo album, Vintage Violence, and that same year formed the band Grinder’s Switch, signed to Vanguard Records, and performed at the Fillmore East. Their debut album was produced by Lewis Merenstein, who previously worked on Van Morrison’s acclaimed Astral Weeks.
Michael Putland/Getty Images
Although the Grinder’s Switch album did not succeed, Jeffreys secured a solo contract with Atlantic Records. Despite his 1973 self-titled debut featuring “Ballad of Me” being another disappointment, it received positive reviews for its fusion of folk-rock, blues, and reggae, a sound just starting to gain traction in the U.S. During this time, Jeffreys made headlines by claiming to be Jamaican to garner attention—an exaggeration that hinted at his knack for self-mythologizing as demonstrated by his choice of stage name: Born William Jeffreys, he adopted his middle name, Garland, to evoke a more exotic appeal.
Four years went by before he landed another recording contract, this time with A&M Records. His 1977 release, Ghost Writer, featured a track titled “Wild in the Streets”, inspired by a tragic event in the Bronx where two teenage boys raped and murdered a nine-year-old girl. “He was profoundly affected by that incident as it involved children,” Claire reflects. “He always carried the weight of feeling like a wounded child himself.”
“Wild in the Streets” received substantial FM radio airplay and was later covered by the Circle Jerks, whose rendition became so iconic that few fans realized Jeffreys was the original writer. Ironically, their version completely altered its intent, turning it from a tragedy into a celebration of freedom. “Garland didn’t mind,” Claire explains. “Regardless of how someone interprets your song, it’s still an honor when they cover it.”
With the anticipation behind Ghost Writer, including RS praising him as the “most promising artist,” Jeffreys felt the blow of its commercial failure acutely. His wife notes that frequent disputes with the label didn’t help matters. “He never felt the label treated him fairly, even when they technically did,” she states. “His foundation was rooted in insecurity and distrust.”
Despite these challenges, Jeffreys continued to flourish creatively, releasing significant albums like 1979’s American Boy & Girl, which featured a cover depicting an interracial couple, and produced a massive hit in Europe with the song “Matador.” In the U.S., he continued changing labels, releasing albums through Epic and RCA.
His debut project for RCA encapsulated his frustrations, resulting in a powerful 1992 concept album addressing race titled Don’t Call Me Buckwheat. Its provocative title stemmed from a distressing incident at a Mets game in the early ‘90s, when someone yelled at Jeffreys, “Hey Buckwheat, get the fuck out of here,” a reference to the Black character from the 1930s series Our Gang. The album cover poignantly showcased a childhood photo of Jeffreys in his baseball getup, taken at the historic game when Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier. One song, “Color Line,” and another, “Racial Repertoire,” examined the phenomenon known today as code-switching. “The way you communicate in the neighborhood differs from how you speak in a professional setting,” Vernon Reid elaborates. “Garland articulated that experience better than anyone.”
Sally Davies for Rolling Stone
Courageously, Jeffreys confronted his own internalized racial shame in “I Was Afraid of Malcolm,” a track where he grapples with the acceptance of Malcolm X’s teachings. “Malcolm demanded accountability, and Garland feared the implications of that,” Reid articulates. “Facing the reality of racism can be a daunting challenge.”
While the album resonated in Europe, with significant support from a German record executive, it remained largely unnoticed in the U.S., further emphasizing the challenges Jeffreys had long faced as a Black artist in rock music. During an interview in 2011, Garland expressed that sentiment: “I’m too Black to be white and too white to be Black.”
“We encountered similar challenges in my band,” Reid recalls about his pioneering group Living Colour. “Black artists are often overlooked in the rock genre.”
In his frustration, Jeffreys experimented with painting his face Black and even created blackface masks to wear during performances. “He was aware of the controversy that could stir,” Claire explains. “But he felt it was necessary to do something.”
Reid describes Jeffreys’ use of blackface as “an act of self-lacerating performance art. He was confronting the issue while also compelling the audience to confront their own complicity.”
The lack of success in the U.S. ultimately left Jeffreys without a recording contract in his homeland for nearly two decades. By the time he released The King of In Between in 2011, it was on his own label, Luna Park. Critics praised it, yet audiences remained indifferent.
Unfazed, Jeffreys continued to produce new material, culminating with 2017’s 14 Steps to Harlem. Two years later, he announced his retirement, although Claire believes he should have taken that step earlier. “He had been struggling in live performances for some time, forgetting lyrics or presenting meandering stories,” she recounts.
Bobby Bank/WireImage
Her initial proposal to retire wasn’t well received. “Delivering that message was unpleasant,” she recalls. “It was tough because performing mattered immensely to him—far more than success.”
However, over time, Jeffreys not only embraced retirement but also came to appreciate the successes he had by refocusing on the quality of his work. In the documentary, Springsteen provides a glowing assessment of Jeffreys’ talents: “He belongs in the great singer-songwriter tradition along with Dylan and Neil Young—he’s truly one of the American greats.”
Claire Jeffreys’ main motivation for creating the documentary was to highlight Garland’s story, but it took some persuasion to get her husband onboard. “Initially, he was hesitant because it resurrected many painful memories,” she states.
Despite his deteriorating health, Jeffreys managed to participate in much of the documentary’s filming. Eventually, however, his wife had to step in to voice his thoughts. Although relieved to have the film completed, it pains her to think that her husband may not be aware of either its premiere or its reception. Nevertheless, she finds her husband’s narrative uplifting.
“Ultimately, this is a story about resilience,” she reflects. “As we grow older, we come to terms with unfulfilled dreams. I hope this film encourages people to find validation in what they have accomplished, as Garland did. Regardless of the challenges he faced, he has led a meaningful life.”
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