I kid, but Chilton's death was a blow, and it did get me to thinking about writing again. I'll begin with this appreciation, and then I've got some other stuff planned starting next week. Time's always a-wastin', it turns out.
There have been a lot of earnest appreciations of Chilton's work with Big Star, and while I do dearly love those three discs (acquiring an original 1972 Ardent pressing of #1 Record was one of the major highlights of my vinyl buying career), I came by his music through his less-discussed solo work. In 1988 he released his "comeback" album High Priest, and I was immediately drawn into his sloppy, funky guitar playing and withering drawl. It wasn't the blues, exactly, but for a suburban college kid trying to navigate the music beyond the local classic rock station, it was just the right fit.
In interviews, Chilton was always dismissive of the Big Star years, and I get the impression that stems from the general unpleasantness of that time -- broken friendships and bad drugs. He seemed happier about his Box Tops days, and happier still to be playing the New Orleans infused R&B/rockabilly blend that populated his later albums. I got out his last studio album 2000's Set *, for my drive to work yesterday, and was reminded once again of just what a great guitarist he was. He careens from chunky jazz chords into rockabilly leads all the time, creating the illusion that it could all go off the rails at any time.
Give his version of "There Will Never Be Another You" a listen, and remember Alex Chilton in his element. Then go listen to more.
08 There Will Never Be Another You.mp3
* Called Loose Shoes and Tight Pussy in Europe, where apparently they enjoy a good Earl Butz reference more than we do.





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