Free Again: Alex Chilton, RIP

Okay, I admit it.  My Big Star post may have been ill-timed.  Then again, with Big Star slated to play the South by Southwest Festival this month, so was Alex Chilton’s death.

Alex Chilton was not the greatest rock and roll artist of all time.  In fact, he's been compared to Rod Stewart in his capacity to turn his back on what he was great at.  But for a brief period of time, Alex Chilton could do no wrong.  And for a brief time after that, his selfdestructive habits created great art anyway.

In both cases, the public ignored it. 

Maybe it was a good thing that the Beatles broke up when they did, because hard rock was the in thing at the time.  In 1969, a friend told me that Led Zeppelin was better than the Beatles.  So, even with the great guitar playing on “Abbey Road”, it's hard to see the Beatles taken as seriously in that environment.  And in the mid-seventies, John Lennon himself ventured a guess that had they not broken up, they would probably have been doing music similar to ELO.  (Sorry, but, ewwww.)  So how could Big Star - the natural heirs to the Beatles – prosper in such an environment?

But to listen to their music now is to forget all that and wonder how they didn't make it, well, big.   But enough of that.

Alex Chilton, above all else, valued his freedom.  Why else break up the successful Box Tops?  Why else record "Free Again" right after it, and then later "You Can't Have Me."  There's a story about how a record company guy hanging out in the studio said that a new song Chilton was recording had hit potential.  Chilton, taking this opinion for what he thought it was worth, completely changed the arrangement.  To the song's detriment, probably.  But that was Alex for you.

Why else release a greatest hits record called “19 Years” instead of waiting one more year?

Why else put “Thank You Friends” - a natural album closer – second?
His behavior sent Chris Bell packing from Big Star, and yet they may have gone on to make even better music without him.

He had a great way of playing rhythm guitar, where the chords never seemed to come when you’d expect them – “You Can’t Have Me” and “What’s Going Ahn”, being great examples.

Artists from the Replacements, the Bangles, Elliot Smith and others know they owe a debt to Alex Chilton.  Alex himself could probably have cared less as he pretty much disavowed the Big Star records.  He was too busy making what he called "untamed" music.

He did eventually cave and do reunions with both the Box Tops and Big Star, but after decades of working in obscurity who could blame him?

So, no, he wasn't the greatest rock and roll artist of all time.  But he was great in the Bob Dylan and Neil Young tradition of going his own way and to hell with the consequences.

Well, he’s gone his own way again.  I hope we cross paths some time.

My Wife's Big Star Problem, and Most Likely, Yours

My wife is the only person I know who can listen to a CD that I put on, hum all the way through it, and then, when it’s over, say “God, I hate those guys!”

There I’d be, so proud of myself for bringing home yet another brilliant CD (which I’d somehow come to equate with being brilliant) that gave her joy and broadened her horizons (my specialty, since my horizons are fine just the way they are) only to find that I’d merely given her yet another reason to question why she married me.  Such questions arise frequently, but usually in regard to my character, so who cares?   But when it comes to my taste in music…well now, that's serious.

And it keeps happening when I put on Big Star.  You've heard of them.  They’re one of those “seminal” (you know, important, but not necessarily good) artists you’re always reading about, but never finding yourself interested enough to investigate.  Well I did all the work for you,

Their first two records are available on a single CD, and it’s one of the essential documents of 70s pop music – a critical piece to an otherwise confusing picture. 

Their third record – recorded in 1974 but not released until 1978, rivals “The Basement Tapes” in hip aura.  It also rivals “Tonight’s the Night” in its depiction of a soul’s – Alex’s Chilton’s – dark hour.  I can understand someone just not getting it, but to me, it’s almost as good as their greatest pop moments.

I think they’re great.  Not so my wife.  What’s her problem?  I’ll try to break it down:


What’s undeniably great about Big Star:

From “Number One Record” – "Thirteen", "India Song", "When My Baby’s Beside Me", "Give Me Another Chance", "Watch the Sunrise".  In other words, perfect pop music.

From “Radio City” - "Oh My Soul", "What’s Goin Ahn", "Back of a Car", "Daisy Glaze", "September Gurls", "I’m in Love with A Girl".  Even better now, but a little strange.

From “Third/Sister Lovers” - "For You", "Nighttime", "Blue Moon". Desolate, but beautiful.

The above, if combined into a single record would be one of the greatest of all time.  And yet the above, burned onto a CD, still drives my wife nuts.

And I didn’t even get to…


What may be off putting about them:

“Number One Record” – "Feel", "The Ballad of El Goodo", "In the Street", "Don’t Lie to Me", "My Life is Right".  Maybe a touch too ironic, and lots of adenoids.

“Radio City” - "September Gurls", "Life is White".  Purposely out of tune, a little demented.

“Third” – Most of it.  Tortured, dark.

Mind you, I’m not saying that this second list is “bad”.  It’s just what I’d consider the most likely source of irritation if you’ve found yourself on the fence about them.  But even the first list didn’t win anyone over.

Like me, my wife is a big Beatles fan.  I consider Big Star to be the missing link between the Beatles and late 70s power pop/new wave.  It would only be logical for her to love them, but no.

And she’s not alone.  I gave copies of that same mix CD to my siblings a couple of years back, and haven’t gotten a word back.  (I think they moved.)  The mystery deepens.


Not the Beatles:

So, who the hell are they anyway?  Jody Stephens and Chris Hummell make up the powerful rhythm section.  Then there’s Alex Chilton, who you know from the Box Tops.  That’s him singing on “The Letter” and “Cry Like a Baby”.  Somehow, that deep, soulful voice went backwards through puberty, and with Big Star, he’s singing like a skinny twelve year old white kid.

The other major creative force was Chris Bell, who wrote or co-wrote the songs with Chilton.  Chris seemed like the nice guy/Paul McCartney type, while Chilton was the loose cannon misanthropic/John Lennon type.  Their songwriting partnership only made it through the first album.  By the end of “Radio City”, Chris is gone and it’s the Alex Chilton show.  Which is okay by me - Chris’s nasally voice was even more annoying than Alex’s could sometimes be.

Alex went on to make a lot of erratic music, and Chris died in a car accident in 1978.  His solo album was eventually released, and while it’s not bad, it’s hampered by Chris’s vocal limitations.  The highlight is “You and Your Sister” which has a guest harmony by Alex.  This poignantly brief reunion has movie written all over it.

But while we wait for it to be made, buy the twofer.  But don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Getting Lyrical

Unlike poetry, great song lyrics don't necessarily impress on paper. As a matter of fact, the more "poetic" (poetical?) they sound when read, the less chance that I'll like them when they're sung. My favorites just look like matter of fact statements:

I made a lot of mistakes

Sufjan Stevens, from "Chicago"

I loved you, well… nevermind

Alex Chilton, from "September Gurls"

It ain't dark yet, but it's getting there.

Bob Dylan, from "Ain't Dark Yet"

Just single lines, really, whose original context gives them their power. And, by themselves, not very poetic. So let me play fair and try more than one line at a time. This is the first verse of "The Whistling Song" by the Meat Puppets (from "Meat Puppets II"):

It's the shadow in the dark,

The silhouette in the park,

It's the broken, faded bird

You've learned to call your heart.

Is that better? I don't know. They're just words. You might have to hear them sung by Chris Kirkwood to feel the pain and desperation. But because I heard the song before I heard the words, I'll never be able to just read them without hearing the music, too.

This is from the Shin's "Young Pilgrim" (from "Chutes Too Narrow").

Well I learned fast how to keep my head up

'Cause I know there is this side of me

That wants to grab the yoke from the pilot

And fly the whole mess into the sea.

James Mercer's delivery is almost matter of fact. (I'm big on this under-singing thing. When a song is good enough, it doesn't need the hard sell.) He's working with a pretty striking melody, so he just lets the rhythm of the words carry him along. And it's brilliant - so much so that the post 9/11 plane hijacking metaphor is forgivable.

Now, as much as I like the words above, I have no reason to think that you do. I've heard the songs and you may not have. So I suspect the words by themselves are not enough. (In case you don't agree, just listen to William Shatner's version of "Mr. Tambourine Man" and other such celebrity atrocities.) Ideally, the music and words share a symbiotic relationship. You'd think it would be easy to spot when this isn't the case. But when I try to think of songs with great lyrics and lousy melodies (or vice versa) I can't. They're out there but they probably don't register in the first place, and we as listeners don't care to know why. Let someone who's paid to do it explain it all to us.

I am open to the possibility that when the words are striking enough, they provide the real music instead of the actual melody. These may just be poems disguised as songs, though. And if the song is good enough, I'm not sure that it's critical that we understand the words anyway.

As a matter of fact, I'd like to propose a moratorium on "getting" lyrics. I'm not talking about the songs whose words you hear the wrong way ("Excuse me while I kiss this guy", the entire early R.E.M. catalogue, etc.). If it's good rock n roll, you probably can't make out some lyrics anyway. I'm talking about the words you can hear. Anyone care to explain "any jobber got the sack, Monday morning, turn it back" to me? I'm still trying to figure out what the hell Billie Joe threw off the Tallahachie Bridge. (Where the hell is Tallahachie, anyway? Anywhere near Tallahassee?) And "lineman for the county"? Who's that? A football player? A truck driver? A phone operator? And she's singing over the wire? Jesus. Beautiful song, though.

So, if we can agree that it's okay to totally misunderstand the lyrics, I will promise to actually read the lyrics when they're provided, as long as my glasses are handy - CD jewel cases having somehow justified the printing of lyrics in a 3 point font. This should improve the odds, but not guarantee that I'll get the words right. And so what if I don't understand the words I'm saying? It'll be like when I speak.

And I further promise to only sing them while alone in the car. That way, if I miss some notes, no one will notice. But that's a whole other posting...