Shot a Hole in My Soul

Alex Chilton died yesterday.

The online outpouring was immediate, astonishing, and moving. I've been a fan of Chilton since my dad played me his then-new EP Feudalist Tarts when it came out in 1985. Two years later, I picked up his new album High Priest, which included the EP and both sides of his "No Sex" single, and had it in constant rotation for many many years. Even now, almost every "general" playlist in my iPod contains at least five Chilton songs that I must have handy to sing along to at top volume in the car.

But my fandom was based mainly on his post-'85 work -- I was somewhat aware of the Big Star albums, and knew the big Box Tops single, of course. I was just getting around to getting more familiar with those periods (and some of the gaps in his later work I'd discovered) recently. Like just this month. If you'dve asked me, I would have thought that when Chilton died, the reaction would only be a bit more than what the great cult recording artist Jim Dickinson (who produced work by Big Star and Chilton and was in no small way responsible for the sound and feel of Chilton's later career) received when he died seven months ago. Cult artist. Influential. Barely listened-to. Chilton would get a bit more attention because of Big Star and The Box Tops (and singing "The Letter" when he was 16 years old), but not much.

I was stunned and moved to see dozens and dozens of my Facebook friends, not just the musicians and music geeks, but EVERYONE, eulogizing the man or saying goodbye or writing about what he meant to them. I didn't know how deeply the Big Star albums in particular had actually spread and penetrated the common consciousness. Wow. Lots of sad and beautiful words out there. It appears that the classic Replacements song "Alex Chilton" (which is also getting new life with a new generation as a track in the Rock Band 2 game) has caused a LOT of people to go back and find out why the hell Paul Westerberg was singing about this guy.

And I think people are also hard-hit by AC's death because he was fairly young, and not only that, he was still working. Not just the revival shows with the revived "Big Star" (which he apparently wasn't all that fond of, but tolerated) and occasional work with the revived Box Tops (the original lineup! - which he WAS very happy to do, his wife says), but there was MORE WORK for Alex Chilton to do. His last couple of albums weren't his best, though there are some gems there -- a few too many covers of too much varied quality, maybe, but hearing him take on standards by Stuff Smith, Allen Toussaint and Yip Harburg was worth it -- and he was certainly still changing and finding new things. His wife says he was more and more into classical music and classical guitar, and it would have been interesting to hear how he might have brought that into his own very distinctive style. But now we won't. I'm positive we could have had at least another couple of decades of interesting and valuable music from Alex Chilton, and I'm PISSED OFF that I won't get to hear it now.

But there's over four decades of his work past us to keep listening to. I put everything I have of his -- Box Tops, Big Star and solo -- in a big playlist (8 hours long) that I'm still working through. This is good stuff, and I'm glad to have it.

I posted a whole bunch of Chilton videos to Facebook last night, but there were more I wanted to share, so here they are (behind the cut -- and they won't be visible when this reposts on Facebook; you'll have to click the link to "View Original Post"). Enjoy . . .

( Alex Chilton -- 11 videos )

And a classic story, which Adam Swiderski posted on Facebook this morning, from Our Band Could Be Your Life by Michael Azerrad. This happened in the midst of a massive freakout by a drugged up Gibby Haynes from the Butthole Surfers at a Dutch music festival:

Haynes then made a successful run for the dressing room and slammed the door behind him. Kramer could hear Leary and Haynes screaming at each other inside, and when he finally worked up the courage to open the door, he found the two of them smashing guitars, bottles and chairs in what Kramer calls “the most potent example of bad behavior I have ever seen. To this day, more than fifteen years later, I have no more vivid memory of the effect a life in music can have on a human being.”

Moments later a man entered the dressing room and asked if he could borrow a guitar. “BORROW A GUITAR??!!! WELL, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU???!!! Haynes screamed, eyes flashing in delirious anticipation of forthcoming violence. But the man was totally unfazed.

“I’m Alex Chilton,” the man answered calmly.

Haynes was flabbergasted. After a long pause, he methodically opened the remaining guitar cases one by one and gestured at them as if to say, “Take anything you want.”

RIP Mr. Chilton. Take anything you want.