Just a micro-post, slightly too long for FB. I am getting The Box Tops' The Letter/Neon Rainbow album from Hennepin County Library's Freegal system for free at a rate of three tracks per week. I found the track "I Pray For Rain" to be one of Alex Chilton's best vocal performances ever. People using Freegal or people who like Big Star/Alex Chilton should check this out. That is all.
To log in through Hennepin County Library (requires a library card):
http://www.hclib.org/pub/search/LoginActionFreegal.cfm
Enter your barcode to enter the site.
Search for "The Letter/Neon Rainbow" using the "Album" search. Click on the album name when it appears. "I Pray For Rain" is track 12.
This album appears to have gone out of print in physical form, which is why I was getting it here in the first place.
Showing posts with label Alex Chilton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alex Chilton. Show all posts
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Saturday, September 24, 2011
The Ten Greatest Guitar Solos Ever Recorded
1. "Let It Be" (album version), George Harrison
Perfect tone. A melody you can whistle. Versatility: I have learned and used this solo verbatim - in other songs. A transcendent overall form, building slowly to its highest notes, then relaxing back down to make way for McCartney. The perfect blend of repetition and freshness from one phrase to the next. The guitar comes raging back and is a soulful co-lead singer on the outro.
Honestly I could have made this whole list out of George Harrison solos. Hearing this song recently inspired me to write this list.
2. "Sympathy For The Devil", Keith Richards
The guitar solo that channels everything people who think Satan is cool think is cool about Satan. Violent, brusque, screaming insanity. The solo tells the story just as much as the lyrics do. And that last ripped chord before Jagger comes back in? A frustrated Satan vanishing in a burst of hellfire.
3. "Candy's Room", Bruce Sprinsteen
The fastest, most intense song on Darkness on the Edge of Town comes to a literally screeching halt then gradually speeds up and loses its mind to become even more intense than before. It seems he's tried to become this sort of this folky, songwritery guy now but here Bruce just freaking wails.
4. "The Wind Cries Mary", Jimi Hendrix
More eloquent than any words could be, this solo makes an initial powerful statement and then sings about the variations the statement suggests. Then it goes veering off into places that appear nowhere else in the song. Finally, a return and resolution of the early statements. This solo is like a satisfying mathematical proof if a mathematical proof was translated into a heroic fanfare.
5. "Sunshine Of Your Love", Eric Clapton
I once created a piece of art with construction paper, two corks, and a wire that tried to depict how this electric solo blazed and flew above a sea of color. This made me realize the necessity of getting my first wah pedal.
6. "Sweet Child O' Mine", Slash
The awkward fourth note of the scale has been involved in a lot of poignant moments over the years, usually yielding to the sweetness of the third, never more so than in the indelible first two lines of the solo over the verse chords. The more violent, minor solo later on and of course the intro that kicks the whole thing off are possibly the best guitar moments of the entire 1980s.
7. "Bell Bottom Blues", Eric Clapton
Like Coltrane he sort of plays the melody but with embellishments. Also like Coltrane (come to think of it) he uses harmonics. This song taught me to use the edge of my picking thumb to make the guitar cry a little bit.
8. "The Crane", Matt Wilson
From Trip Shakespeare's Across The Universe album. It's an entire melody to itself, climbing up in bent fits, then falling down into the lowest notes the guitar has to offer. Once I finally figured out how he was articulating some of the climbing parts, this solo taught me to bend a note on one string to match a note on a higher string, something I later found in Hendrix as well.
9. "Way Out West", Alex Chilton
From Big Star's Radio City album, a melodic distillation of everything good and chimey Roger McGuinn ever played. Hearing this taught me how to solo using chord shapes and to mix open strings with fretted strings where possible.
10. "Octopus' Garden", George Harrison
In a demo session in the now unavailable Let It Be film Ringo is plonking out this silly little number on the piano. Months later, with a fellow underrated Beatle leading the way it exploded into a 3-D rock masterwork. I used to quote bits of this during Honigman shows. The guitar intro, verse arpeggios, solo, and outro are justification for the song's existence and inclusion on the greatest rock masterpiece of all time, Abbey Road.
Also essential learning:
"Johnny B. Goode", Chuck Berry
"Patience", Slash
"Eruption", Eddie Van Halen
"Bohemian Rhapsody", Brian May
"Let's Dance", Stevie Ray Vaughan
"Dear Prudence", George Harrison
All right, what did I forget?
Perfect tone. A melody you can whistle. Versatility: I have learned and used this solo verbatim - in other songs. A transcendent overall form, building slowly to its highest notes, then relaxing back down to make way for McCartney. The perfect blend of repetition and freshness from one phrase to the next. The guitar comes raging back and is a soulful co-lead singer on the outro.
Honestly I could have made this whole list out of George Harrison solos. Hearing this song recently inspired me to write this list.
2. "Sympathy For The Devil", Keith Richards
The guitar solo that channels everything people who think Satan is cool think is cool about Satan. Violent, brusque, screaming insanity. The solo tells the story just as much as the lyrics do. And that last ripped chord before Jagger comes back in? A frustrated Satan vanishing in a burst of hellfire.
3. "Candy's Room", Bruce Sprinsteen
The fastest, most intense song on Darkness on the Edge of Town comes to a literally screeching halt then gradually speeds up and loses its mind to become even more intense than before. It seems he's tried to become this sort of this folky, songwritery guy now but here Bruce just freaking wails.
4. "The Wind Cries Mary", Jimi Hendrix
More eloquent than any words could be, this solo makes an initial powerful statement and then sings about the variations the statement suggests. Then it goes veering off into places that appear nowhere else in the song. Finally, a return and resolution of the early statements. This solo is like a satisfying mathematical proof if a mathematical proof was translated into a heroic fanfare.
5. "Sunshine Of Your Love", Eric Clapton
I once created a piece of art with construction paper, two corks, and a wire that tried to depict how this electric solo blazed and flew above a sea of color. This made me realize the necessity of getting my first wah pedal.
6. "Sweet Child O' Mine", Slash
The awkward fourth note of the scale has been involved in a lot of poignant moments over the years, usually yielding to the sweetness of the third, never more so than in the indelible first two lines of the solo over the verse chords. The more violent, minor solo later on and of course the intro that kicks the whole thing off are possibly the best guitar moments of the entire 1980s.
7. "Bell Bottom Blues", Eric Clapton
Like Coltrane he sort of plays the melody but with embellishments. Also like Coltrane (come to think of it) he uses harmonics. This song taught me to use the edge of my picking thumb to make the guitar cry a little bit.
8. "The Crane", Matt Wilson
From Trip Shakespeare's Across The Universe album. It's an entire melody to itself, climbing up in bent fits, then falling down into the lowest notes the guitar has to offer. Once I finally figured out how he was articulating some of the climbing parts, this solo taught me to bend a note on one string to match a note on a higher string, something I later found in Hendrix as well.
9. "Way Out West", Alex Chilton
From Big Star's Radio City album, a melodic distillation of everything good and chimey Roger McGuinn ever played. Hearing this taught me how to solo using chord shapes and to mix open strings with fretted strings where possible.
10. "Octopus' Garden", George Harrison
In a demo session in the now unavailable Let It Be film Ringo is plonking out this silly little number on the piano. Months later, with a fellow underrated Beatle leading the way it exploded into a 3-D rock masterwork. I used to quote bits of this during Honigman shows. The guitar intro, verse arpeggios, solo, and outro are justification for the song's existence and inclusion on the greatest rock masterpiece of all time, Abbey Road.
Also essential learning:
"Johnny B. Goode", Chuck Berry
"Patience", Slash
"Eruption", Eddie Van Halen
"Bohemian Rhapsody", Brian May
"Let's Dance", Stevie Ray Vaughan
"Dear Prudence", George Harrison
All right, what did I forget?
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Twelve Very Sad Musician Deaths
Elvis. His last album, Moody Blue, still sounds fresh, new, emotional, and fascinating. It pointed the way for much of what I remember of the next five years or so of music, especially early '80s country, which all sounds derived from "For The Heart" and "Moody Blue" and "He'll Have To Go". He was still active and creative and innovative and I'd love to know what he would have done for the last thirty years or so.
John Lennon. Possibly the saddest, most shocking, senseless, unfair rock star death ever. He wasn't effed up on drugs. He had a five year old son he loved, a smart, loving wife and collaborator, a new album (Double Fantasy) that was the best thing he'd done in almost ten years, and a public ready and waiting to welcome him back from his self-imposed exile. And he was only 40!
George Harrison. The last album (Brainwashed) is brilliant, the equal of anything he'd ever done. I would love for him to have gotten another twenty or thirty years; both for his own music and so he could hear the excellent music his son is now making (Fistful of Mercy) and tell him in person how proud he was.
Kirsty MacColl. Again the fantastic creative leap of the last album (Tropical Brainstorm) pointing the way to what else she might have done. She also never got the widespread, A-list acclaim she deserved for her outstanding songwriting.
Kurt Cobain. Nirvana is still the most interesting thing on modern rock radio, despite the familiarity of all the tunes. I never switch stations when "Lithium" or even "Smells Like Teen Spirit" comes on. I started teaching guitar the year he died and I always felt like the kids really learned something musically important by playing his songs.
Jimi Hendrix. What would he have done next? What would he be doing now? I can't even imagine it and neither can anyone else. That's what's so frustrating about a lot of the people on this list. A sense of an unfulfilled mission, the continuation of which would have benefitted the entire world. Perhaps most especially...
John Coltrane. His last recordings were the most extreme, intense, intelligent thing anyone had ever done and no one has ever matched him. Would he have topped himself somehow and showed us something even more new and revolutionary? The frustrating answer is that only he had the mind, the technique, the feeling, and the soul to do whatever it is he would have done next. You could make a case that an entire genre died with him.
Janis Joplin. Wouldn't it be cool to have some late '70s Janis albums? They would sound so soulful and rockin' and mellow by turns and probably sometimes all at once.
John Stenseth. My favorite regular performer at St. Olaf's Larson Coffeehouse by a wide margin and the only one to whom I willingly, enthusiastically surrendered the open mic night stage back in the day. His 12-string was a marvelous machine of melody and rhythm and his voice was a fountain of soul. It makes me question the very nature of existence that he, of all people, died so young.
Sandy Denny. I only recently discovered for myself the true glory and power of this British singer/songwriter, a giant of folk, and I look forward to hearing everything else she ever did and I'm sure I'll get to the point where I am knowledgeable enough to wish there was another thirty years of it.
Chris Bell. His post-Big Star recordings (I Am The Cosmos) are really excellent and I'd love to see where he would have gone. Plus, Like John L. above, his band's inevitable reunion would have been a lot more interesting and authentic.
Alex Chilton. He seems to have been pretty much done with studio recordings but his shows were still great, be they with Big Star, The Box Tops, or solo. I would've liked to have seen him another time or two.
Ars longa, vita brevis.
R.I.P.
Wish You Were Here.
John Lennon. Possibly the saddest, most shocking, senseless, unfair rock star death ever. He wasn't effed up on drugs. He had a five year old son he loved, a smart, loving wife and collaborator, a new album (Double Fantasy) that was the best thing he'd done in almost ten years, and a public ready and waiting to welcome him back from his self-imposed exile. And he was only 40!
George Harrison. The last album (Brainwashed) is brilliant, the equal of anything he'd ever done. I would love for him to have gotten another twenty or thirty years; both for his own music and so he could hear the excellent music his son is now making (Fistful of Mercy) and tell him in person how proud he was.
Kirsty MacColl. Again the fantastic creative leap of the last album (Tropical Brainstorm) pointing the way to what else she might have done. She also never got the widespread, A-list acclaim she deserved for her outstanding songwriting.
Kurt Cobain. Nirvana is still the most interesting thing on modern rock radio, despite the familiarity of all the tunes. I never switch stations when "Lithium" or even "Smells Like Teen Spirit" comes on. I started teaching guitar the year he died and I always felt like the kids really learned something musically important by playing his songs.
Jimi Hendrix. What would he have done next? What would he be doing now? I can't even imagine it and neither can anyone else. That's what's so frustrating about a lot of the people on this list. A sense of an unfulfilled mission, the continuation of which would have benefitted the entire world. Perhaps most especially...
John Coltrane. His last recordings were the most extreme, intense, intelligent thing anyone had ever done and no one has ever matched him. Would he have topped himself somehow and showed us something even more new and revolutionary? The frustrating answer is that only he had the mind, the technique, the feeling, and the soul to do whatever it is he would have done next. You could make a case that an entire genre died with him.
Janis Joplin. Wouldn't it be cool to have some late '70s Janis albums? They would sound so soulful and rockin' and mellow by turns and probably sometimes all at once.
John Stenseth. My favorite regular performer at St. Olaf's Larson Coffeehouse by a wide margin and the only one to whom I willingly, enthusiastically surrendered the open mic night stage back in the day. His 12-string was a marvelous machine of melody and rhythm and his voice was a fountain of soul. It makes me question the very nature of existence that he, of all people, died so young.
Sandy Denny. I only recently discovered for myself the true glory and power of this British singer/songwriter, a giant of folk, and I look forward to hearing everything else she ever did and I'm sure I'll get to the point where I am knowledgeable enough to wish there was another thirty years of it.
Chris Bell. His post-Big Star recordings (I Am The Cosmos) are really excellent and I'd love to see where he would have gone. Plus, Like John L. above, his band's inevitable reunion would have been a lot more interesting and authentic.
Alex Chilton. He seems to have been pretty much done with studio recordings but his shows were still great, be they with Big Star, The Box Tops, or solo. I would've liked to have seen him another time or two.
Ars longa, vita brevis.
R.I.P.
Wish You Were Here.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Flash! A-aaaah! (Flash Gordon part three)
Did you miss part 1 or part 2?
The next day, Monday, I did the vocals in the afternoon. The evolving rough, literally caffeine-fueled, punk feel of the recording was too fast for me to get all the words in. Also, the notes of the melody are way out of what I might conservatively think of as "my vocal range." As I am sometimes able to do, I put all these limitations out of my mind and just did it and it's fine. It was super fun.
I have been thinking about Alex Chilton's death. When I heard about it, I immediately had the idea to record one of his songs and maybe even make a video of myself playing it and post it online. Then I thought about how very, very many people very much like myself will do that very thing. Alex Chilton was a master at confounding expectations, mixing genres, and doing exactly what he wanted to do in music without any consideration for commercial success or even, you know, logic.
I began to think of my Beatles/Punk version of Queen's "Flash (A.K.A. Flash's Theme)" as a spiritual tribute to Alex Chilton and so it is.
Finally, has anyone listened to "Chimes of Freedom" from Another Side of Bob Dylan lately? I mean really listened, not just let the recording you've heard a hundred times wash through your ears. I actually listened to that the other day and it was shocking how compassionate, wise, and moving it was. How many songs anywhere near the rock genre actually celebrate "the gentle" and "the kind"? I just sat on the couch and cried and loved everything and everyone. Okay, that's where I'm at with the whole thing.
The next day, Monday, I did the vocals in the afternoon. The evolving rough, literally caffeine-fueled, punk feel of the recording was too fast for me to get all the words in. Also, the notes of the melody are way out of what I might conservatively think of as "my vocal range." As I am sometimes able to do, I put all these limitations out of my mind and just did it and it's fine. It was super fun.
I have been thinking about Alex Chilton's death. When I heard about it, I immediately had the idea to record one of his songs and maybe even make a video of myself playing it and post it online. Then I thought about how very, very many people very much like myself will do that very thing. Alex Chilton was a master at confounding expectations, mixing genres, and doing exactly what he wanted to do in music without any consideration for commercial success or even, you know, logic.
I began to think of my Beatles/Punk version of Queen's "Flash (A.K.A. Flash's Theme)" as a spiritual tribute to Alex Chilton and so it is.
Finally, has anyone listened to "Chimes of Freedom" from Another Side of Bob Dylan lately? I mean really listened, not just let the recording you've heard a hundred times wash through your ears. I actually listened to that the other day and it was shocking how compassionate, wise, and moving it was. How many songs anywhere near the rock genre actually celebrate "the gentle" and "the kind"? I just sat on the couch and cried and loved everything and everyone. Okay, that's where I'm at with the whole thing.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
So You Want Some Big Star
Here's the thing. They really only made two albums and sort of three. Those are essential, but even so you have some choices.
1. #1 Record/Radio City (best edition)
Their main two albums are #1 Record and Radio City and those are both included on a great CD that was originally released in 1992. This has Ballad of El Goodo, Thirteen, Way Out West, etc. If you only buy one CD, I think this is the best place to start. Maybe. Or maybe Third.
The thing is, in 2009 the album was remastered and reissued with two bonus tracks. These bonus tracks are inessential and, to me, disruptive of the overall listening experience. I read the amazon reviews and gave it a miss. I still love my old CD from 1992, which sounds perfectly great to me. The old CD without bonus tracks is now technically out of print and, as you can see from the link above, expensive. You could just buy the mp3s and cut the bonus tracks out of your iTunes playlist. Of course, you don't get the artwork and booklet, but you could get this book for all the reading matter you could want:
Rob Jovanovic's excellent Big Star bio
-------------------------------------
2. Third/Sister Lovers (best edition - Rykodisc, of course)
The "Third/Sister Lovers" album is different and sort of bipolar but also essential. It's easier to get the best edition because there is really only one on CD.
-------------------------------------
All of the songs from these albums are also included on the 2009 box set, but some are in alternate mixes and so forth so I think of the box set as being more for people already familiar with the band.
So those two CDs (three albums) are really the place to start. Enjoy. Be sure and let me know if you need more because there is a lot to enjoy and I can certainly advise. If I had to select one other album that is radically different from Big Star but equally indicative of what a shockingly amazing musician Alex Chilton was, I would throw this out there:
Cliches
Have fun!
1. #1 Record/Radio City (best edition)
Their main two albums are #1 Record and Radio City and those are both included on a great CD that was originally released in 1992. This has Ballad of El Goodo, Thirteen, Way Out West, etc. If you only buy one CD, I think this is the best place to start. Maybe. Or maybe Third.
The thing is, in 2009 the album was remastered and reissued with two bonus tracks. These bonus tracks are inessential and, to me, disruptive of the overall listening experience. I read the amazon reviews and gave it a miss. I still love my old CD from 1992, which sounds perfectly great to me. The old CD without bonus tracks is now technically out of print and, as you can see from the link above, expensive. You could just buy the mp3s and cut the bonus tracks out of your iTunes playlist. Of course, you don't get the artwork and booklet, but you could get this book for all the reading matter you could want:
Rob Jovanovic's excellent Big Star bio
-------------------------------------
2. Third/Sister Lovers (best edition - Rykodisc, of course)
The "Third/Sister Lovers" album is different and sort of bipolar but also essential. It's easier to get the best edition because there is really only one on CD.
-------------------------------------
All of the songs from these albums are also included on the 2009 box set, but some are in alternate mixes and so forth so I think of the box set as being more for people already familiar with the band.
So those two CDs (three albums) are really the place to start. Enjoy. Be sure and let me know if you need more because there is a lot to enjoy and I can certainly advise. If I had to select one other album that is radically different from Big Star but equally indicative of what a shockingly amazing musician Alex Chilton was, I would throw this out there:
Cliches
Have fun!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
It's Wild To Be Young (Alex Chilton, part 3)
Did you miss part 1 or part 2?
It's wild to be young, isn't it? You can actually fall fully in love with stuff without thinking about it. Someday, if I keep borrowing their albums from the library and listening to them once in a while, I might like Yo La Tengo a lot, or any of these other bands that smart people recommend to me. But I can't remember the last time I really fell in love with a band the way I did with Big Star or Trip Shakespeare or...that's it really. Oh, and They Might Be Giants. And kind of Ben Folds Five, but I was still only like 26 when I heard Whatever And Ever, Amen. And I still haven't bought every single thing he's done and seen him live every chance I could since then like with Alex Chilton or Matt Wilson.
Which reminds me. I can stop looking at the bar/band/show schedules in the back of City Pages now. Matt Wilson has an online presence and an active band and notification of upcoming shows again (finally!) and Alex Chilton, the only other name I was ever really searching for, is gone.
It's wild to be young, isn't it? You can actually fall fully in love with stuff without thinking about it. Someday, if I keep borrowing their albums from the library and listening to them once in a while, I might like Yo La Tengo a lot, or any of these other bands that smart people recommend to me. But I can't remember the last time I really fell in love with a band the way I did with Big Star or Trip Shakespeare or...that's it really. Oh, and They Might Be Giants. And kind of Ben Folds Five, but I was still only like 26 when I heard Whatever And Ever, Amen. And I still haven't bought every single thing he's done and seen him live every chance I could since then like with Alex Chilton or Matt Wilson.
Which reminds me. I can stop looking at the bar/band/show schedules in the back of City Pages now. Matt Wilson has an online presence and an active band and notification of upcoming shows again (finally!) and Alex Chilton, the only other name I was ever really searching for, is gone.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Shows (Alex Chilton, part 2)
Did you miss part 1?
I saw Alex Chilton in concert three times, all in the 1990s, each time with a different group. I saw him at Mill City Music Festival in Minneapolis. It was the big REV105 stage out on 1st avenue and he was playing before Soul Asylum. There were these crappy little punks two or three deep standing at the stage with their backs to it, squatting for Soul Asylum. Alex was constantly trying to get the sound men to turn down the volume on his own guitar, which was ear-bleedingly loud, a characteristic shared with every other band I saw that day. (Including a mutilated version of The Lovin' Spoonful (without John Sebastian for fuck's sake) and Etta James (who did some nasty things with the microphone if I remember correctly.) It did not surprise or terribly sadden me when this festival disappeared.)
I think Chilton played "In The Street" and maybe some other songs from his then most recent albums High Priest and Black List. Honestly, it was a disappointing show. He did not seem engaged and I couldn't really blame him and I've always held it against Soul Aylum for no good reason.
I later saw him at First Avenue with the 1990s version of Big Star with original drummer and singer Jody Stephens and Jon Auer and Ken Stringfellow of the Posies. This was a better show, although the first thing I think of was his awkward, speaking-to-each-other-but-into-the-microphones fight with Jody before they played the song Jesus Christ.
Alex: We're gonna do this next song, but I don't want you to actually think we believe any of this crap.
(Some in crowd cheer)
Jody: I think it takes more courage to admit that you do believe.
(Others in crowd cheer or laugh nervously)
Alex sort of groaned and rolled his eyes and they went ahead and did the song. So I guess maybe Alex wasn't a Christian and Jody was/is? You think? Did we need to know that?
The other problem with that show was that the big pauses in the song Big Black Car were filled in with hi-hat quarter notes. Yes, the band all knew when to come back in but all the tension and despair that builds up between sections of that song was popped like a balloon.
The best show I ever saw him give was, strangely enough, a free show with the Box Tops at Taste Of Minnesota in St. Paul. In the Box Tops he didn't really write or play any instruments and as I understand it he quit way back in 1969 because he felt like a tool of the producers, who wrote all the songs, oversaw the recordings and record releases, and kept most of the money.
I guess the Box Tops got control of the name and at least some share of the money because the band I saw (with all the original members) was totally great and enthusiastic. Alex was singing his heart out and climbing the scaffolding at the side of the stage. His voice was energized and powerful, a truly soulful synthesis of the gruff voice he used on those original Box Tops recordings and the calmer, nuanced voice he had discovered and used in Big Star and his wonderfully varied solo work.
After the show he was actually standing behind a table in a tent signing autographs and talking to fans. I desperately wished I had brought one of my many CDs of him. I wanted to talk to him but didn't know what to say. How could I have put it that wouldn't have seemed totally weird?
I watched him sign a few CD booklets then someone tried to hand him a cassette, undoubtedly of their own music for Alex to listen to. He laughed and said he had stacks and stacks of tapes and he'd never get to listen to it. He was laughing and nice about it but he just left the tape on the table. Now that I'm older I totally get both sides of that.
When I was young I wanted to send my music to him and to Matt Wilson of Trip Shakespeare for no real particular reason except that I saw myself as part of the same line that led from The Beatles to those guys to me. Hearing Alex say that he had stacks and stacks of tapes that he'd never get to listening to made me realize I was not alone in that feeling (which I never actually acted on).
There's an interesting parallel here. Hearing Alex talk about all the tapes people sent him made me realize that I was not alone in wanting my idols to hear my music. When I first heard Alex' music it had made me feel that I was not alone in the way I felt back in 1993.
Go to part 3
I saw Alex Chilton in concert three times, all in the 1990s, each time with a different group. I saw him at Mill City Music Festival in Minneapolis. It was the big REV105 stage out on 1st avenue and he was playing before Soul Asylum. There were these crappy little punks two or three deep standing at the stage with their backs to it, squatting for Soul Asylum. Alex was constantly trying to get the sound men to turn down the volume on his own guitar, which was ear-bleedingly loud, a characteristic shared with every other band I saw that day. (Including a mutilated version of The Lovin' Spoonful (without John Sebastian for fuck's sake) and Etta James (who did some nasty things with the microphone if I remember correctly.) It did not surprise or terribly sadden me when this festival disappeared.)
I think Chilton played "In The Street" and maybe some other songs from his then most recent albums High Priest and Black List. Honestly, it was a disappointing show. He did not seem engaged and I couldn't really blame him and I've always held it against Soul Aylum for no good reason.
I later saw him at First Avenue with the 1990s version of Big Star with original drummer and singer Jody Stephens and Jon Auer and Ken Stringfellow of the Posies. This was a better show, although the first thing I think of was his awkward, speaking-to-each-other-but-into-the-microphones fight with Jody before they played the song Jesus Christ.
Alex: We're gonna do this next song, but I don't want you to actually think we believe any of this crap.
(Some in crowd cheer)
Jody: I think it takes more courage to admit that you do believe.
(Others in crowd cheer or laugh nervously)
Alex sort of groaned and rolled his eyes and they went ahead and did the song. So I guess maybe Alex wasn't a Christian and Jody was/is? You think? Did we need to know that?
The other problem with that show was that the big pauses in the song Big Black Car were filled in with hi-hat quarter notes. Yes, the band all knew when to come back in but all the tension and despair that builds up between sections of that song was popped like a balloon.
The best show I ever saw him give was, strangely enough, a free show with the Box Tops at Taste Of Minnesota in St. Paul. In the Box Tops he didn't really write or play any instruments and as I understand it he quit way back in 1969 because he felt like a tool of the producers, who wrote all the songs, oversaw the recordings and record releases, and kept most of the money.
I guess the Box Tops got control of the name and at least some share of the money because the band I saw (with all the original members) was totally great and enthusiastic. Alex was singing his heart out and climbing the scaffolding at the side of the stage. His voice was energized and powerful, a truly soulful synthesis of the gruff voice he used on those original Box Tops recordings and the calmer, nuanced voice he had discovered and used in Big Star and his wonderfully varied solo work.
After the show he was actually standing behind a table in a tent signing autographs and talking to fans. I desperately wished I had brought one of my many CDs of him. I wanted to talk to him but didn't know what to say. How could I have put it that wouldn't have seemed totally weird?
I watched him sign a few CD booklets then someone tried to hand him a cassette, undoubtedly of their own music for Alex to listen to. He laughed and said he had stacks and stacks of tapes and he'd never get to listen to it. He was laughing and nice about it but he just left the tape on the table. Now that I'm older I totally get both sides of that.
When I was young I wanted to send my music to him and to Matt Wilson of Trip Shakespeare for no real particular reason except that I saw myself as part of the same line that led from The Beatles to those guys to me. Hearing Alex say that he had stacks and stacks of tapes that he'd never get to listening to made me realize I was not alone in that feeling (which I never actually acted on).
There's an interesting parallel here. Hearing Alex talk about all the tapes people sent him made me realize that I was not alone in wanting my idols to hear my music. When I first heard Alex' music it had made me feel that I was not alone in the way I felt back in 1993.
Go to part 3
Friday, March 19, 2010
Thanks, Andy (Alex Chilton, part 1)
The fall of 1993 was a good time to become a Big Star fan for a few reasons. Logistically, Rykodisc had just issued the first complete, good sounding CD editions of the Third album, a live radio show, and Chris Bell's complete solo work. The previous year had seen the band's other two albums, #1 Record and Radio City, released on a single disc.
Personally, I was not doing so well. I may or may not have been suffering from what scientists today call clinical depression. Also, there was a girl. I thought about death a lot. I needed something to make me feel like I wasn't alone. Big Star music was that something.
Like most people who love the band, I did not hear about them from the media. I heard about them from other people who loved them. Trip Shakespeare, a band equally deserving of greater acclaim but which has received even less, covered "The Ballad of El Goodo" on their final album, Volt, which I loved. I did not know anything about the listed authors Alex Chilton and Chris Bell. If you can, try to imagine a world in which information about these mysterious people was not immediately available to me. There was nothing about them at the college libraries. If there was such a thing as searching the internet I was not aware of it. I had to actually ask people!
I asked the most knowledgeable music guy I knew, Andy Honigman. He provided me with a tape of a record of Third and his CD of #1 Record/Radio City, which, oddly, was signed by the drummer from Walt Mink. (Oh, by the way, which one's Mink?)
The Third/Sister Lovers album spoke to my emotional state like no other music ever had. I shortly thereafter bought the CD myself, along with all the rest of the band's music. I listened to it a lot. Along with Trip Shakespeare and R.E.M.'s then-new Automatic for the People album, this music and my own emerging writing and playing gave me a reason to get up in the morning. The music gave me a sense that other people had felt the way I felt. All this music was important to me, but Big Star was the most.
I learned the Big Star songs The Ballad of El Goodo, Thirteen, Give Me Another Chance, I'm In Love With A Girl, Blue Moon, Way Out West, In The Street, and the Chris Bell songs You And Your Sister and I Am The Cosmos. Except for the Beatles there is no other band whose songs I've put more effort into and had in my playing repertoire for longer. I'm being intentionally dramatic and overstating the case just a little when I say slightly (but only slightly) disingenuously that Big Star's music saved my life. Certainly it strengthened my friendships as I played those songs with people I loved and began to get the idea to name myself after the band's home town.
Go to part two.
Personally, I was not doing so well. I may or may not have been suffering from what scientists today call clinical depression. Also, there was a girl. I thought about death a lot. I needed something to make me feel like I wasn't alone. Big Star music was that something.
Like most people who love the band, I did not hear about them from the media. I heard about them from other people who loved them. Trip Shakespeare, a band equally deserving of greater acclaim but which has received even less, covered "The Ballad of El Goodo" on their final album, Volt, which I loved. I did not know anything about the listed authors Alex Chilton and Chris Bell. If you can, try to imagine a world in which information about these mysterious people was not immediately available to me. There was nothing about them at the college libraries. If there was such a thing as searching the internet I was not aware of it. I had to actually ask people!
I asked the most knowledgeable music guy I knew, Andy Honigman. He provided me with a tape of a record of Third and his CD of #1 Record/Radio City, which, oddly, was signed by the drummer from Walt Mink. (Oh, by the way, which one's Mink?)
The Third/Sister Lovers album spoke to my emotional state like no other music ever had. I shortly thereafter bought the CD myself, along with all the rest of the band's music. I listened to it a lot. Along with Trip Shakespeare and R.E.M.'s then-new Automatic for the People album, this music and my own emerging writing and playing gave me a reason to get up in the morning. The music gave me a sense that other people had felt the way I felt. All this music was important to me, but Big Star was the most.
I learned the Big Star songs The Ballad of El Goodo, Thirteen, Give Me Another Chance, I'm In Love With A Girl, Blue Moon, Way Out West, In The Street, and the Chris Bell songs You And Your Sister and I Am The Cosmos. Except for the Beatles there is no other band whose songs I've put more effort into and had in my playing repertoire for longer. I'm being intentionally dramatic and overstating the case just a little when I say slightly (but only slightly) disingenuously that Big Star's music saved my life. Certainly it strengthened my friendships as I played those songs with people I loved and began to get the idea to name myself after the band's home town.
Go to part two.
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