RIP Alex Chilton, American Music Man

I was supposed to go out and hear some music tonight. I didn't know if it would be some clanging revelation, a sound I'd never heard before, or a blast from the past given new oomph by some young punks so in love with the big, crazy history of American music that they have to rip it open and devour it. I'm at South by Southwest in Austin, Texas, the biggest, wildest annual gathering of melodic music-makers this nation knows, where old and new collide in an explosion of amplifier feedback and spilled beer.

I should be out there, damaging my hearing and locating some joy. Instead I'm sitting in my hotel room, writing this elegy for Alex Chilton, the Memphis-rooted musician who died of an apparent heart attack at 59 earlier Wednesday in New Orleans. Chilton was supposed to play here Saturday with his band, Big Star; it was the one show on my schedule that I was unequivocally excited to see. Instead, he's gone, leaving South by Southwest -- and rock 'n' roll -- punched through like a cheap paper bag.

That paper bag analogy has a specific reference point. Big Star, which Chilton formed in 1970 with the late Chris Bell, Andy Hummel and Jody Stephens, was named after a Memphis Supermarket chain.

That group's indignantly loud and gorgeous power pop inspired more young rockers than did any other fairly obscure rock save that of the Velvet Underground. Somewhere in a trunk, I have a tattered souvenir from a Big Star store in Memphis, picked up on a pilgrimage to the South that I made when I was barely 21, when I set forth to find some mineral traces of the blues and early rock heritage I'd only read about in books.

What I found on that journey was Alex Chilton. I'd already come to love Big Star's catalog, introduced to me via the mix tapes my friends and I made for each other as we built our own twisted history of Americana from what the band X once called "the unheard music." Alex Chilton was a wandering, heretical patriarch of our new religion. Bands like the Replacements and R.E.M. found him inspirational. (Members of one such group, the Posies, would later play with a reformed Big Star.) College radio DJs turned Big Star's catchy but unkempt songs into the hits they should have been the first time around. The band had been active in the 1970s, but they belonged to us, the kids fighting off the shadow of the Baby Boomers who'd been too dumb to realize how great it was.

We shook our messy hair to Big Star's strutting rockers, like "In the Street" (the band's best-known song, thanks to Cheap Trick's version for "That 70s Show"), and "September Gurls," party anthems that were like Led Zeppelin hits for the kids who got beaten up by real Zeppelin fans. And we slow danced to Chilton's ballads, especially those from Big Star's third album, "Sister Lovers,"  made after the band had basically fallen apart. That record remains one of the most lucid expressions of youthful sorrow in the annals of guitar pop, a perfect encapsulation of the pain of that worst, first heartbreak.

Chilton was a music-industry vet by the time he made "Sister Lovers" with the help of Stephens, producer Jim Dickinson and a bunch of other Memphis characters. He'd been a teen one-hit wonder fronting the Box Tops, whose song "The Letter" featured a Tom Jones-style vocal style that Chilton quickly abandoned for something more cracked and crazier. Big Star had not made it big. "Sister Lovers" tells the story of Chilton's unraveling. Its songs are as beautiful as a red drop of blood, but it's never sentimental. They made me love this mess of a guy.

Then I saw him live, first on tour with a shaggy outfit he'd put together after the indie rockers had uncovered his past work, and then down South, on that pretentious sacred walkabout I'd taken into the land of Elvis and Muddy Waters. By that time, Chilton had explored raw noise with the performance art-damaged combo Tav Falco and the Panther Burns, and helped the Cramps, whose debut album he produced, turn rockabilly into horrorcore. He'd seen and done enough to be cynical. And he projected that attitude. Yet in the midst of music-making he became something remarkable: a living repository of that unheard music, a profane, profound, wisecracking American Music Man.

Chilton was famous for packing his sets with the most obscure and hilarious rhythm and blues and early rock songs he could find. He'd take them at double speed, or stretch them out as if we were all tripping on hallucinogens in a hotel lounge in the hinterlands. He recorded some of these shattered gems on solo albums, but they were best experienced live, in sets that delighted everyone present, especially the rascal in front of the microphone.

In New Orleans, the town Chilton called home for many years, I saw him play a show heavy on boogie woogies and rolling, sexy blues. Two nights later, he and I were both at the famous Antenna Club in Memphis, and his sound that night was rougher, more damaged, yoking together the legacies of punk and outlaw Southern bar music. These Alex Chilton performances opened my ears to American music in ways that nothing I'd read or heard before had. His off-hand genius reminded me that this music was funny and rude as well as deep and beautiful.

I was a young woman in love with American sounds but a little scared of what seemed like a hallowed history; Chilton was a seasoned knockabout who insisted on showing me -- and everyone in the room -- that history is simply what people make out of their damage and their rudeness, their lust and their ambitious beating hearts. For that lesson, and all the laughs, I will never forget Alex Chilton. And I'm mad he's not playing in Austin on Saturday night. I was going to yell out for a few of those songs he'd taught me so long ago, plus one or two of his own, and was prepared to be rebuffed, and thrilled, at what he'd play anyway.

-- Ann Powers

Photo: Alex Chilton on stage at the House of Blues.  Credit: Luis Sinco / Los Angeles Times

Comments

[NS]

RIP. I'm quite saddened to hear this news. Nearly 25 years ago I was mesmerized by an Alex Chilton performance in Atlanta. Not knowing who he was and having no expectations made the music even more surprising and special. He played at the 688 club, which was more of a punk scene, although previews mentioned "The Letter" and Big Star. What a loss.

[greg]

Nice thoughts Ann, thank you for sharing. R.I.P. Alex, thank you for the music.

[Charlie]

Sic transit gloria mundi....

[David Ehrenstein]

Exceptionally sad to hear of Chilton's passing. My favorite version of "The Letter" is by Joe Cocker.

[aracorbett]

Beautiful elegy, Ann. Thank you. RIP, Alex. You and Chris Bell live on in the hearts of your legions of fans.

[Roberta DiBisceglie]

...history is what we make of our damage and our rudeness.." Indeed! Thank you for a beautiful elegy. Chilton's death is a huge loss. Btw, this is one baby boomer who was a fan even way back in the 1970s.

[Phast Phreddie Patterson]

As one of the Baby Boomers not "too dumb to realize how great [Big Star] was," having owned both original LPs and a couple singles when Ms. Powers was about 10 years old, I take issue with her suggestion that The Box Tops were a one-hit wonder. "Cry Like a Baby" went to Number Two nationally in 1968 and I distinctly remember heavy radio play for "Neon Rainbow," "Choo Choo Train," "I Met Her in Church" and "Soul Deep"--all of which were Top 40 nationally.

I had a couple Alex Chilton experiences, but will share one. Around 1978, when Chilton was in LA mixing the first Cramps recordings he produced, he called me out of the blue. Lux Interior had told him that I was a guy to contact if he needed anything while in LA (I met Lux a year prior when I was visiting friends in NYC while on assignment for my fanzine, Back Door Man).

Chilton needed a ride to the airport from the A&M offices in Hollywood, would I provide it? I explained to him that I lived in Torrance--a good 20 miles or so south of Hollywood and that it would be an inconvenience. He told me he could give me some free records--as many as I wanted--from the A&M offices. So I agreed to pick him up.

He met me at the front door of the office building and led me inside. He went into several offices, grabbing records off desks and shelves. I asked if anyone would get mad and he insisted that everything was cool. We loaded as many records as we could carry into my '71 Gremlin and took off for the airport.

Thanks for the records, Alex, and for the music. I miss you.

[innadaze-n-LA]

Wow. As a 12-year-old junior high kid playing in neighborhood garage bands way back in ’68, I remember wearing out my 45 of “The Letter” listening to it over and over and over. I can’t believe you’re gone Alex.

[Pat Rainer]

Ann - I am stunned at the brillance of your piece on Alex. I was one of those Memphis characters that participated in the making of Sister Lovers. Alex was a great singer, guitarist, and artist. I am proud to have been his friend. Thanks for speaking the truth. Hope we can meet someday and compare notes on music.

[Buh Zing]

Incredible tribute, Ann. You hit a grand slam home run with such a fitting eulogy. America has no idea what it just lost in this songwriting heavyweight. It feels like we've been robbed of a pricelessly rare rock n' roll gem.

[RonFromSeattle]

Thanks for a wonderful story Ann.

[hardrock62]

I'm with greg Ann - thanks for sharing this with us - a great loss for music and musicians everywhere.

[Tom B.]

I'm very sad about this one. A great loss to the music world. I saw Alex perform at the Morgan Wixson Theater on Pico for a Brian Wilson Tribute and Everly Brothers tribute for Habitat for Humanity back in the early 90's. Small theater and he was absolutely incredible live. Also caught a Big Star "reunion" at the House of Blues around that same time with Ken Stringfellow and Jon Auer of the Posies. One of my all-time favorite shows.
A big loss to rock n' roll.
A Big Star forever.

[Christian]

Beautiful and poetic tribute Ms. Powers. I was still reeling from the loss of Mark Linkous. It's getting a bit much. I saw Alex solo @ the Club Lingerie in the 80's. Alex was a great guitar player but was ok with being a little sloppy. That's one of the things I liked about him. He knew mistakes were always gonna be there...it's all part of the music. On stage and backstage he seemed to be alone...just sitting there smoking a cigarette. He was pure. He didn't fake it. He was the real thing.

[Andrew]

it is a beautiful obituary. thank you and also thanks for the great music section =)

-
A

[honneycombs]

Honneycombs covered Alex's beautiful Big Star-era song "Nightime" on our front porch last month... we didn't realize that by the time we posted our tribute it would be a posthumous one. So sad. We'll miss you Alex - thanks for all the beautiful songs...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qaa9NC_8WqE

[chapple]

beautiful.....

[Mike]

I saw him play one afternoon at a small club in Santa Barbara. This was the late '80s or early '90s, I forget. There couldn't have been more than a dozen people at the show, but we all seemed to be obsessives who knew his entire back catalog. He played just a few of his own choices, then started taking requests. He played everything we asked, enthusiastically and without hesitation. When it came time for a break he started to head backstage, but the green room door was locked. So he turned around, sat on the edge of the stage, and chatted with us all until it was time to play some more. An amazing show. RIP Alex.

[andy Ryan]

Read your columns in the Times for many years and agreed at times and sometimes not. Your piece on Alex Chilton was beautiful. There is much sadness here in New Orleans. My wife was a friend. The tears have not stopped as Big Star plays on an endless loop. My wife refers to him as one of the "bright lights." She is so right. We plan to go to the services as fans but more importantly as friends.
In all the years of Jazz Fest he never played. It was always whispered he was never asked. I'd swap you 10 nights of Pearl Jam for one night of Alex. RIP our friend.

[shockg99x]

RIP. Indeed. To all of those who have posted prior. I am coming at this from a totally different angle. As a young African American of the late 70s/80s, I totally missed the Alex Chilton era. But, as mired in funk as I was, a mate of mine tipped me to the Replacements--and the imortal Alex Chilton song. That plus the magic is Youtube; vintage record shops (thank gawd i live in LA), i was able to cobble together a feel for the passing giant. RIP, Alex. You will be missed by all yesterday, today and tomorrow.

Cheers!

[Dee Whitlow]

Thank you for the most wonderful commentary on one of my favorite musicians. I loved his records and listened to them yesterday and last night all night long. He was brilliant.

[stickers]

I’m so glad you guys went. Timber Timbre was amazing at Rifflandia. It hurt me to miss this line-up in Vancouver (the mid-week shows are killing me, and the best never come to Victoria), but there’s a wee bit of solace in The Low Anthem being at Squantch. You should check out the Reprise version of To Ohio. So pretty. And also, one of my favorite blogotheque shows

[sticker printing]

All the videos are awesome, i have never heard that songs even that name before in my life, well thanks for introducing this person or a big star with us, today's singers does not have this kinda potential in their songs, they should learn from these examples, anyway love to read your post as well as the songs.

Thanks
Mike

[peninggi badan]

These Alex Chilton performances opened my ears to American music in ways that nothing I'd read or heard before had. His off-hand genius reminded me that this music was funny and rude as well as deep and beautiful.

[Electronic Cigarette]

great... thanks for this information.