I first read about Big Star in Village Voice music critic Robert Christgau’s first Consumer Guide collection. But reading about Big Star and finding their records was a tricky proposition in 1981. Then one day, I found a copy of Radio City in a cutout rack at Rose Records. It was a great introduction — I was fixated for months on “O My Soul”, which took so many familiar ’60s rock elements, but rearranged them in new and exciting ways. Eventually, I came to love the other songs on the album. And that was all I heard by them for years, since Big Star didn’t have anything in print. Even when Radio City and #1 Record came out in CD, it was import only. But eventually I had all the albums, which are so distinctive, and have become part of the power pop canon. Big Star ran the gamut, from the teenage ecstasy of “In The Street” to the tender defiance of “Thirteen” to the blissful longing of “September Gurls” to the desperation that permeates the Third/Sister Lovers project, this was pop music that had strong emotional resonance.
Alas, things weren’t so easy for main man Alex Chilton. A teenage star with The Box Tops, his preternaturally mature soulful voice keyed hits like “The Letter”. But the band was controlled by the record company and producers. And he never made much money from the Tops. He began to explore his own sound, captured on Chilton’s 1970 album, which eventually came out in the ’90s. Finally, with the talented Chris Bell, Andy Hummel and reliable drummer Jody Stephens, Big Star was born. The name wasn’t intended to be ironic (thought that’s how it turned out) — they took it from a local supermarket chain.
Signed to the local label Ardent (an affiliate of Stax), there was no promotional muscle for the band’s music, and perhaps they weren’t quite as mainstream as, for example, The Raspberries. So the records didn’t sell. This took it’s toll. It took years for the cult to expand, and Chilton and Big Star were championed by artists like R.E.M.s Peter Buck, Teenage Fanclub, The Posies, and, most famously, The Replacements, in the classic song, “Alex Chilton”. From these ripples, more and more bands have shown the influence of Big Star.
Chilton’s death just two days ago, at age 59, is such a shame. I wonder if he’d realize just how many people he touched, as illustrated by scads of Facebook updates and tweets in his honor.
I only saw Chilton once, when Big Star (featuring Jon Auer and Ken Stringfellow of the Posies, with Stephens on drums) played Metro. It was an amazing night, as I saw the great local band Frisbie for the first time, and they raised the roof. Fortunately, Big Star was up to the task of following that set. And I started following Frisbie, which led to friendships and contacts that are why I’m now at CHIRP. So Chilton’s music has touched me on many levels.
The first song played on CHIRP, just two months before Chilton’s death, was Big Star’s “Thank You Friends”. It was the perfect song to kick CHIRP off, and typical of Chilton’s ability to capture feelings, both lyrically and melodically. We’ll all miss him, but we’ll always have him around.
In Chilton’s honor, please grab your iPod/MP3 player, hit shuffle and share the first 10 songs that come up.
- Parasites — You’re Gonna Miss Me (Retro Pop Remasters): I must have read a review of a Parasites album, which led me to picking up the band’s album Pair. Despite the ugly name, the Parasites are a sugar rush of punk-pop. Unlike bands of the Blink 182 stripe, Parasites are grounded more in classic pop with stronger vocals. They really get the balance right, with punky energy and strong swoony melodies. Maybe this would be better described at power X 2 pop.
- Blur — Colin Zeal (Modern Life Is Rubbish): On Blur’s second album, they were in the process of honing their Brit pop approach, with a character study of a middle class twit, in the tradition of Ray Davies and Andy Partridge. The verses in this song are static, but they set up the big hook. At the time, this sounded so good, but there were even better things to come.
- Radio Birdman — Murder City Nights (Radios Appear): Radio Birdman was strongly influenced by Detroit proto-punk (The MC5 and The Stooges) and surf rock, and came up with a sound that really defined Australian punk rock. There were some garage and R & B undercurrents, with fantastic guitar parts. Deniz Tek has a typically slashing guitar solo here. I was so happy to see them on their reunion tour, as Tek was a monster and the whole band ripped. One of my favorite songs on the band’s classic debut.
- Aimee Mann — Choice In The Matter (I’m With Stupid): Nick Hornby has wondered how Mann can marry such downbeat lyrics with such upbeat melodies. I don’t know, but it’s her greatest talent. On her second solo record, it sounds like she was reaching for a warm sound akin to Matthew Sweet’s Girlfriend album. Her later records got a bit prettier, but all the ingredients that led her to greater prominence as a solo act were all on this disc.
- Duke Ellington & His Famous Orchestra — Caravan (Highlights from the Centennial Edition): The music fits the title, as the band chugs along in rhythmic fashion, setting up a wonderful clarinet solo. The interplay between the drums and the piano is splendid, with a bass guitar also playing along. Then a violin solo gives an Eastern feel to the song. This just sounds so cool.
- M.I.A. — Galang (Arular): The song that really broke M.I.A. in the U.K. Her tracks almost always have bright and insistent rhythm tracks. There is so much going on and the rhythms are catchy unto themselves. M.I.A. isn’t really much of a rapper, but she has a ton of personality and her Sri Lankan/Brit accent adds to the third world meets first world sensibility that is the essence of her recordings. Both her official albums are essential.
- New Model Army — Ballad of Bodmin Pill (Thunder And Consolation): Musically, are punk in attitude, with hard guitars mixed with post-punky bass lines and music that sometimes is Clash-y and sometimes folk-y. Lead singer Justin Sullivan is articulate and passionate, railing against the injustices of the world. Like Midnight Oil, the band makes it go down easier with anthemic choruses. This is vital, as otherwise this would just be monochromatic hectoring. Instead, New Model Army provides a platform to channel anger. This is from my favorite album of theirs. It positively seethes.
- The Four Tops — Ain’t No Woman (Like The One I Got)(The Singles + More): A ’70s hit for the Tops. This has more of a Philly soul vibe. It’s a great song, but it doesn’t sound much like a Four Tops song until they finally let Levi Stubbs take the lead. And even then, it’s not typical. Good, but not typical.
- The Undertones — Listening In (The Undertones): The first two Undertones are about as good as punky pop has ever been. The songs are so tight and well constructed, with a combo of hooks in the chorus and the lead guitar figures. On top of that, Feargal Sharkey’s warble is quintessentially teenage and the rhythm guitar tone is simply awesome. Not one of their best known songs, but it’s still great.
- The Grip Weeds — Every Minute (The Sound In You): This New York power pop group mixes it’s love for groups like The Who and The Move and big guitars with an affinity for folkier rock in the vein of The Byrds. So the drums pound and the melodies soar, while guitarist Kristen Pinell comes up with some amazing solos. This band makes good records, but really must be seen live — they are explosive.
This week, let’s pay tribute to a cornerstone of the Chicago music scene, Leonard Chess. Over 60 years ago, he and his brother Phil launched Chess Records, the label that launched the careers of Muddy Waters, Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley, among others, releasing some of the most vital records in blues and rock ‘n’ roll history. Sure, Leonard may have engaged in questionable business practices, but the list of honest record executives starts (and may end) with Corey Rusk (NOTE: this is an exaggeration). But Chess is simply a seminal label that changed the face of music — and it happened here in Chicago. So pay tribute to Leonard and the Chess roster by grabbing your iPod/MP3 player, hitting shuffle and sharing the first 10 tunes that come up.
- Nada Surf — Blonde on Blonde (Let Go): This Anglophile band managed to shake their novelty one-hit wonder status and make some really good albums in the vein of The Bends-era Radiohead. Unlike their British contemporaries, such as Coldplay and Keane, Nada Surf is not about overkill. Indeed, there’s a distinct measure of ’80s college radio rock in their sound, meaning that even when the band ups the drama, they don’t go over the top. This is a low key mid-tempo tune that reminds me a little bit of The House Of Love.
- Simon & Garfunkel — The Dangling Conversation (Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme): What’s amazing about S & G is how their many hits, for the most part, only reveal a few aspects of Paul Simon’s amazing songwriting talents. The duo added a pop lushness to folk-rock and combined with Simon’s acute lyrics and sense of grandeur, this made for some of the best music of the ’60s. Since they were such a major pop act, I think they aren’t considered with the more conventional rock acts of the period. This is a shame. Their music may have been softer, but Simon is right up there with Ray Davies when it comes to observational songwriting.
- Ohio Players — Sweet Sticky Thing (): While best know for their funk hits “Fire” and “Love Rollercoaster”, the Ohio Players had their softer moments too. This is a mid-tempo number that appears to have been an attempt to ape The Isley Brothers’ loverman shtick. It’s not as good as the Isleys, but it has such a winning soft vibe and some cool saxophone work.
- Slow Jets — Dreams Come Out (Remain in Ether): A Baltimore band who followed down the path blazed by bands like The Embarrassment. This is off-kilter indie rock, catchy but not straightforward. This song has a bit of a Pere Ubu touch with spacey keyboard noises and tones augmenting the guitar based song. Good song.
- Ross — LaughCream (Supersonic Spacewalk): Ross is a Spanish power pop artist with a wavering command of the English language. His songs are laden with guitars and sweeping harmony vocals. This song has a bit of an Electric Light Orchestra vibe with some psychedelic pop tricks.
- The Cars — Moving In Stereo (The Cars): A great nocturnal driving track from one of the great debut albums of the ’70s. The Cars were considered a new wave band when they began, and with their wide variety of influences, including the Velvet Underground and Roxy Music, that was as a good a spot for them as anywhere. This is such a great piece of mood music, with Greg Hawkes’ gloomy keyboards and Elliot Easton’s atmospheric guitar work. And producer Roy Thomas Baker should get credit for the mechanistic drum sound, which fits the rest of the track so well.
- Kid Creole & The Coconuts — Things We Said Today (To Travel Sideways): A nifty take on the well known Beatles song. Kid Creole finds a way to fit the tune into his patented supper club funk/salsa mix, while not messing with the classic haunting melody.
- Supergrass — Cheapskate (In It For The Money): While the first Supergrass album is probably the favorite of most fans, its on the brilliant second album where Gaz Coombes’ songwriting fully flourished. Indeed, when this came up, I had to check which album it was off of, since the band has generally been so consistent from this point forward. This song has a great R & B rhythm base and is a fine example of how good pop-rock songwriting often involves building up tension in the verses and then releasing it with a wide open melody in the chorus.
- Merle Haggard — I Made the Prison Band (Branded Man): Has anyone done a compilation of Merle Haggard songs about being in prison, committing a crime or getting out of prison? It would cover at least two CDs. During the late ’60s, Haggard was bursting with great honky-tonk tunes, especially on this fantastic album.
- Real Cool Killers — Something’s Wrong (The Violence Inherent In The System): French band rocking out on a track from a stellar compilation of European bands put together by Steve Gardner, who used to publish the Noise For Heroes fanzine and later wrote for The Big Takeover. The songs on this compilation are inspired by the Stooges, New York Dolls, The Cramps among others. This song could be passed off as the work of some Aussie punk band of the early ’80s.
In 1972, I was in the living room with my mom and dad watching the Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethon. Johnny Cash was singing a song live from the WLAC-TV studios in Nashville. During the performance, there was a camera shot from behind the Man In Black, and there, in the front row, was my Grandmother and Grandfather Booth. I was so excited. I would have been even more excited had they not cut away from the local feed after the performance, as my Grandfather went on the stage and gave Johnny a check for Muscular Dystrophy from the insurance conglomerate for which he worked. I have a picture of that presentation in my home. It’s hard to sum up Johnny Cash in a few words. He was a special part of American music, representing rebellion and a gentle spiritual side, but his religious songs didn’t proselytize — they dealt with the complexity of human behavior. Moreover, he was always, always cool. So in honor of Johnny, grab your iPod or MP3 player, hit shuffle, and share the first 10 tunes that come up.
- Donovan — Hurdy Gurdy Man (Love Is Hot, Truth Is Molten): Of course, I already knew this song (and also enjoyed the Butthole Surfers’ version), a fey psychedelic classic when I got this Australian compilation from the awesome Raven label. This generous comp spans Donovan’s prime ’60s work, from his days as a slavish Dylan imitator until he discovered his own flower power voice. Donovan isn’t great overall, but he did a lot of great work.
- Scissor Sisters — Lovers In The Back Seat (Scissor Sisters): This album was a revelation. A band that mixed disco, sometimes in a Pet Shop Boys-ish fashion, and classic ’70s pop, with a strong Elton John influence, and was proud to be pop. I haven’t listened to the whole thing in a while, but I think it may be a classic. The follow up was a bit overdone and I’m anxious to hear album number three, whenever that is. This is just a really good song, probably not too far from Robbie Williams’ better material.
- The Kinks — You Still Want Me (Greatest Hits): A rare early Kinks number that doesn’t really have a distinctive personality. This sounds more in the vein of The Searchers, a solid beat group harmony vocal number. It’s nice, but not a Grade A Kinks tune.
- Blur — Fade Away (The Great Escape): The Great Escape is my favorite Blur album, because it is the most multi-dimensional of their Brit pop efforts. On this album, the influence of Madness seems pretty strong, as illustrated by this ska-inflected number with a melancholy horn section and a haunting chorus. The trilogy of albums — Modern Life Is Rubbish, Parklife and The Great Escape — is one of the better runs of the era.
- Jackie Brenston & His Delta Cats — Rocket 88 (The Roots of Rock ‘n’ Roll): This three CD compilation gathers early rock sides along with key pre-rock jazz, blues and country numbers. When musicologists debate what is the first rock ‘n’ roll song, this tune is certainly part of that conversation. The up-and-down rhythm on the bass, the swinging drumming and the lively piano and sax are all touchstones of the early rock ‘n’ roll sound. Regardless, an enduring classic.
- The Shazam — Oh No! (The Shazam): A great track from the best power pop band of the past 10 years or so. Hans Rotenberry has mastered the punchy pop sound typified by certain sides by The Who and The Move and perfected by Cheap Trick. Of course, none of this would mean anything if the band didn’t have such a big sound, with a beefy rhythm section and great guitar playing. And Rotenberry has scads of personality as a vocalist. Someday, when there’s a Nuggets of Late ’90s/early ’00s power pop, The Shazam will be one of the dominant bands on the collection.
- The Move — Wild Tiger Woman (Movements: 30th Anniversary Anthology): Hey, speak of the devil! Here’s the real thing. The early Move was full of masterfully melodic proto-Brit pop songs. Then, as time went on, they began to rock more and more. Sometimes it was with pure brute power, in a way that may have influenced fellow Birmingham rockers Black Sabbath. Other times, there was more of a ’50s vibe, as on this Roy Wood composition. Everything The Move did deserves attention.
- The Yardbirds — Here ‘Tis (Ultimate!): My iPod is leaning to the ’60s today. This is an early Yardbirds tune, when they were one of the most authentic blues/R & B bands amongst the British Invasion brigade. This song has a bit of a Bo Diddley feel, though it doesn’t have a classic Bo Diddley beat. This is the blues accelerated, and it blows away about 99 percent of the garage bands working today.
- The Sights — The Hott Seat (Are You Green?): This Detroit band was 80 percent garage rock with the other 20 percent being other ’60s rock influences. The debut mixes some great pop hooks with some intense rocking. This song is lifted a bit from Jimi Hendrix’s “Foxy Lady”, using the basic rhythm as a jumping off point for some guitar freakouts. A fairly decent instrumental and quite short.
- Tubeway Army — It Must Have Been Years (Replicas): The album that made Gary Numan a star in England holds up so well. He made the most of his limited voice, making it a vehicle for his paranoid sci-fi fantasies. Replicas is a concept album, which, like most concept albums, isn’t well fleshed out in the lyrics. As Numan explained it, the British government has determined that it must program computers and robots to solve the country’s intractable problems. The computers determine that the real problem is humans, and seeks to kill them all. Cheery stuff. This tune is the best showcase for Numan’s underrated guitar playing. It really rocks.
I’m passing on some major birthdays (Tony Iommi of Black Sabbath, Dave Wakeling of The English Beat and, of course, Falco) to honor Peter Holsapple, who, with and without Chris Stamey, did some amazing work with The dB’s in the ’80s and has gone on to The Continental Drifters and further work with Mr. Stamey. I got to interview Peter in college, when The dB’s opened for R.E.M. in Carbondale in 1984. He was a really nice guy with a great sense of humor. Me and my friend Dale ran into him after the gig, he had his hands full, so I opened the door for the band’s van…and a jar of peanut butter rolled out and shattered on the sidewalk below. Holsapple put down his stuff, said in a ceremonious voice, “He broke the jar of peanut butter!” and then said I was entitled to a prize for this deed. He reached in the van and gave me a copy of the new dB’s album, Like This. As an 18-year-old college student, this made me feel really cool, which happened so rarely back in those days. So please honor Mr. Holsapple and grab your iPod/MP3 player, hit shuffle and share the first 10 songs that come up.
- The Liquor Giants — I Don’t Know Why (Something Special For The Kids): This is off of the Giants’ all covers album. Unlike most such affairs, the songs are, for the most part, quite obscure. This song was originally done by Sons Of Thunder, who I know nothing about. Ward Dotson and crew bust out the Farfisa for this tinny light garage rock song with almost a girl group feel.
- Pavement — Stare (Crooked Rain Crooked Rain): I am such a Johnny Come Lately to the Pavement party. Other than Slanted and Enchanted, there’s no Pavement album I love, as my iPod is introducing me to some of their music. That includes this low key track with a lot of reverb guitar. Not one of Pavement’s shining moments.
- Maximo Park — Going Missing (A Certain Trigger): One of the better new wave revivalists of the last decade, the band revolves around Paul Smith’s sharp lyrics and intent personality, which are supported by the tight playing of the supporting band. There are some slight post-punk nods here, but in the service of hooky, melodic ends. Oddly enough, though the band’s sound gets better with each album, the songwriting is a bit weaker each time out. So this debut album is the one to go with, if you’re only having one.
- Husker Du — No Promise Have I Made (Candy Apple Grey): Some folks ripped Husker Du a new one back in 1985, when they released their first major label album. Songs like this piano ballad from Grant Hart are why. This is an achingly tender ballad with a raw vocal performance from Hart. While this may have ticked off punk formalists, for those of us who were fans of Hart and Bob Mould as writers, hearing them expand their sound, retaining their emotional core was a great thing. A good song off a darned good album.
- The dB’s — Dynamite (Stands For Decibels): Hey! A birthday match!!! A very typical Chris Stamey song from the first dB’s album. Stamey was heavily influenced by Radio City-era Big Star and it’s reflected in this quirky power pop tune. Stamey drawls and draws out the melody, while Will Rigby punctuates and moves along the proceedings on the drums. Peter Holsapple adds some roller rink keyboards on one of many outstanding songs on this LP.
- Randy Newman — Mr. President (Have Pity on a Working Man)(Good Old Boys): The fact that Newman got any traction in the rock world is partially a testament to the notion that a well written song is a well written song. Other than the rhythm of this song, this tune could have been written in the ’30s, with its hint of a ragtime influence. The lyrics are more acerbic, of course. This is a second tier Randy Newman song, which is better than most writers first tier material.
- Pere Ubu — Heaven (Datapanik In The Year Zero): I got into Pere Ubu after they reunited, and had to work my way backwards to their early stuff. Some of it is dark, some of it is inaccessible, but some songs show that the band’s alleged pop moves in the late ’80s were foreshadowed. This is a pretty jaunty song, but for the industrial humming keyboard that oscillates throughout the song. Pere Ubu is the embodiment of one of the few maxims of music that I live by — you can’t screw with song form unless you know how to write a good song in the first place. This is a straightforward good song — most of the time they are messing with that form.
- Buck Owens — A-11 (Buck Owens Collection): This is one of Buck’s classic hits, a honky tonk lament about a guy who doesn’t want to hear a song on the jukebox that will dredge up awful memories. Of course, I’m sure Buck actually wanted people to play “A-11” on jukeboxes in honky tonks throughout the land, and I don’t know if anyone was averse to this song, even if wasn’t selection number A-11 on an actual jukebox.
- The Cardigans — Life (Rise & Shine): The first two Cardigans albums are soft-pop classics and it seems like subsequent releases found the band distancing itself from its past, as if it were embarrassed. They should be embarrassed about the sleepy serious recent efforts which waste the talents of Nina Persson, who is made for these sunny retro-‘60s pop numbers. One key to these songs is that The Cardigans were a rock band, so they played these soft numbers with a lot of punch, without overwhelming them.
- The Four Tops — Something About You (The Singles): I’ll have to check, I think this is a Holland-Dozier-Holland number … it is! This is classic Motown, with a driving rhythm and typically strong vocals (though Levi Stubbs does not take the lead) from the Tops. This is still the sound of Young America, for my money