Just heard the news this morning. The NPR show "Fresh Air" with Teri Gross did a retrospective on his career. At the end they faded out with "Thirteen" and I'm not ashamed to say I lost my shit right there.
Back of a Car
When My Baby's Beside Me
In The Street
September Gurls (forget The Bangles version!)
Thank You Friends
I'm In Love With A Girl....
Gonna hoist more than one in his honor this weekend.
"In my opinion, Alex was the most talented triple threat musician out of Memphis - and that's saying a ton," Paul Westerberg, the former Replacements frontman, said in an e-mail to The Associated Press. "His versatility at soulful singing, pop rock songwriting, master of the folk idiom, and his delving into the avant garde, goes without equal. He was also a hell of a guitar player and a great guy."
"Alex was an amazingly talented person, not just as a musician and vocalist and a songwriter, but he was intelligent and well-read and interested in a wide number of music genres," said his friend [John] Fry, the owner of Memphis-based Ardent Studios.
Sadness over Chilton's passing was felt all the way to Capitol Hill, where U.S. Rep. Steve Cohen of Memphis said in the House: "He did it his own way, independent, iconoclastic, innovative ... He is the embodiment of Memphis music. Hard, different, independent, brilliant, beautiful. We're lucky he came our way."
Here's more from Paul Westerberg in the NYT appreciation pages today ->
HOW does one react to the death of one's mentor? My mind instantly slammed down the inner trouble-door that guards against all thought, emotion, sadness. Survival mode. Rock guitar players are all dead men walking. It's only a matter of time, I tell myself as I finger my calluses. Those who fail to click with the world and society at large find safe haven in music "” to sing, write songs, create, perform. Each an active art in itself that offers no promise of success, let alone happiness.
Yet success shone early on Alex Chilton, as the 16-year-old soulful singer of the hit-making Box Tops. Possessing more talent than necessary, he tired as a very young man of playing the game "” touring, performing at state fairs, etc. So he returned home to Memphis. Focusing on his pop writing and his rock guitar skills, he formed the group Big Star with Chris Bell. Now he had creative control, and his versatility shone bright. Beautiful melodies, heart-wrenching lyrics: "I'm in Love with a Girl," "September Gurls."
On Big Star's masterpiece third album, Alex sang my favorite song of his, "Nighttime" "” a haunting and gorgeous ballad that I will forever associate with my floor-sleeping days in New York. Strangely, the desperation in the line "I hate it here, get me out of here" made me, of all things, happy. He went on to produce more artistic, challenging records. One equipped with the take-it-or-leave-it "” no, excuse me, with the take-it-like-I-make-it "” title "Like Flies on Sherbert." The man had a sense of humor, believe me.
It was some years back, the last time I saw Alex Chilton. We miraculously bumped into each other one autumn evening in New York, he in a Memphis Minnie T-shirt, with take-out Thai, en route to his hotel. He invited me along to watch the World Series on TV, and I immediately discarded whatever flimsy obligation I may have had. We watched baseball, talked and laughed, especially about his current residence "” he was living in, get this, a tent in Tennessee.
Because we were musicians, our talk inevitably turned toward women, and Al, ever the Southern gentleman, was having a hard time between bites communicating to me the difficulty in ... you see, the difficulty in (me taking my last swig that didn't end up on the wall, as I boldly supplied the punch line) "... in asking a young lady if she'd like to come back to your tent?" We both darn near died there in a fit of laughter.
Yeah, December boys got it bad, as "September Gurls" notes. The great Alex Chilton is gone "” folk troubadour, blues shouter, master singer, songwriter and guitarist. Someone should write a tune about him. Then again, nah, that would be impossible. Or just plain stupid.
Paul Westerberg, a musician, was the lead singer of the Replacements
Upon sober reflection, I now remember that I actually did write some miserable tune, not about Paul, but about the break-up of The Replacements. Full of whiny, sad-sack imagery that I can't remember now and am glad not to.
Back on topic:
I remember going to the first Chicago Big Star reunion show at Metro and arriving early for some reason. The doors would not be open for about an hour, so I went across the street to a little greasy spoon for some pre-concert chow. As I'm sitting there, inhaling a chili-dog and checking out the hot chicks that stroll around that neighborhood, up pulls a taxi-cab. And out pops a short, 40-ish white guy carrying a guitar case.
Immediately, a young couple steps up, grinning from ear-to-ear, and they start talking to him. And I realize that its Alex Chilton. He didn't look anxious to get away or act like a prick at all. He actually set down the guitar case, fired up a cigarette and talked for a while. More people passing by recognized him, and he posed for a couple pictures, signed some autographs. Everyone looked so happy and I was happy for him, too. After all the years of obscurity, he was getting some recognition.
And on top of that, it was a great show. All Big Star material, plus a few covers, including Todd Rundgren's S.L.U.T.