Like Lou Reed (1942-2013), listeners are still trying to wrap their heads around the music and myths of American legend Alex Chilton (1950-2010). Both went through a myriad of artistic changes and phases in their career. One started in a cult famous band (the Velvet Underground) and transformed into a bigger solo star during the classic rock era. In contrast, Alex Chilton started right from the top with the enduring 1967 hit “The Letter.” After forming the critically acclaimed, but marketplace flops Big Star, he worked along the periphery as a solo performer, provocateur and producer of bands like the Cramps and the Royal Pendletons. While Alex and Lou’s career trajectories went in opposite directions, a majority of their music continues to not only endure, but somehow reveal additional layers of depth with each passing year. Lou Reed (as a person and performer) could be said to be a face changer (Bian Lian 變臉), while Alex Chlton seemed to be just enigmatic Chilton.
Alex was said to be petulant, mercurial and frustrating like a child, but also capable of numemous moments of brilliance and near genius. When he rose to the occasion and played up to his abilities, Chilton could overflow with joyous inspiration as he sang to his devoted audience and transfigured the moment like adult-child Brian Wilson. Appearance-wise Chilton was as handsome as Dennis Wilson and he could look so debonair like a soul deep and professorial Southern gentleman. Other times, he would wear shabby plain white t-shirts like the New York City cab driver he once was.
Alex Chilton & Dennis Wilson-1968 Beach Boys/Box Tops tour. |
It has taken me almost 50 years to finally get into his untamed and unvarnished solo sides after growing up with the Box Tops on oldies radio and the requisite discovery of Big Star during my college years in the early '90s. I recall going to Tower Records in Chicago, which yielded Big Star's #1 Record/Radio City two-fer on CD and a copy of the revelatory Memphis ‘zine Wipe Out! Guide for Goners no. 6 besides being blown away seeing rack after rack of Ventures reissues from Japan.
Off the Cuff
While many will say he squandered some of his immense talents, Chilton seemed to relish in venturing far off the musical rails and defying most expectations. However, he could quickly snap into the alignment when necessary due to those aforementioned talents and/or when it was necessary to make some money (as he would candidly admit in interviews about the Box Tops and Big Stars reunions). Still he seemed to have never left his wilderness years and appeared content to play music from time to time and flip channels between Walker, Texas Ranger and college basketball. This was the same artist who collaborated with photographer William Eggleston and created spiritual pop with Chris Bell! An any rate, it was all a part of what made Alex who he was along with his refreshing “Take It or Leave It" attitude.
Nevertheless, the spotty studio albums along with a protracted jumble of odds & ends from labels from all over the world continued to surface year after year. It was understandable when a friend declared, “I don’t go out of my way to seek out Alex Chilton solo albums, I let them come to me.” Still, Like Flies on Sherbert is a compelling stripped-down rock ‘n’ roll record and sounds nothing like 1980 (and 1980 was a pretty good year for music in general.) I would say age, additional exposure to music and hopefully some more wisdom regarding the human condition does certainly lead to the understanding and enjoyment of Chilton’s perennial messiness. By the way, you can hear the influence of the title track on Freezing Hands’ “High Diver!” found on their Empty the Tank album from 2023.
Electricity by Candlelight NYC 2/13/97 is Chilton’s own Beach Boys’ Party! moment that has him “preaching to the choir” with three Beach Boys numbers (“Wouldn't It Be Nice,” “Surfer Girl,” “Solar System”) who return the mutual love in return. You can hear the communion in the room by the sound of overflowing applause during this stretch of the show. (Remember that Chilton’s Box Tops toured with Beach Boys in 1967-68 and the Beach Boys’ own live 1967 cover of “The Letter” can be heard on Sunshine Tomorrow.) It was the right place at the right time as Chilton was in his impromptu comfort zone and electrifying as Reddy Kilowatts. This all-covers and acoustic recording is highly recommended when it comes to capturing absolute Alex and an overall majestic performance.
Alex also expressed his devotion to the Beach Boys after his remarkable April 1996 set with Teenage Fanclub in their Glasgow hometown when he thanks Carl, Dennis and Brian…and inexplicably Gene Krupa. With being the master of the straight-foward, endearing and catchy pure-pop song, Alex was embraced and adored by the shambolic Scottish pop scene. Teenage Fanclub and Alex Chilton made for quite a combination in the realm of guitar-driven pop. “Telstar” and “Have I the Right,” “Free Again” and “Patti Girl” by ‘60s Ohio kiddie band Garry and the Hornets were all part of the stellar set-list that night.
Chilton’s taste in music was undeniably Grade-A. Over the years, his expansive “human jukebox” repertoire ranged freely from the most unvarnished R&B, country shuffles, ‘70s soul and snotty garage punk of the Seeds to cosmopolitan classics like “Volaré,” “The Girl From Ipanema” along with the warmth of the Beach Boys. While sometimes criticized for “relying” heavily on covers, Alex was generously sharing his discoveries, recognizing the unsung and tapping his vast talents with his interpretations. In other words, his tastes were too universal and his passion too strong to be contained and listeners are all the better for it.
20 years earlier, Alex was seemingly in another one of his murky and makeshift phases of his life that lead to the gritty Ocean Club ‘77 performance. The February night show has Chilton fronting a trio with backing vocals & bass from Chris Stamey and Lloyd Fonoroff on drums. The Lower Manhattan Ocean Club was a bar, restaurant, and performance venue operated by Max's Kansas City owner Mickey Ruskin and was commonly known as simply, "The Ocean Club." The New York-area seemed to be a place where Chilton thrived as a live performer as evidenced from the raspy voiced performance of “The Letter” at The Bitter End* (*actually a soundstage in New Jersey) where he seemed to tap into his inner-Jim Morrison to his cover of “Duke of Earl” at Coney Island High in 1998 where you can detect his influence on Ted Leo.
In the Ocean Club ‘77 liner notes, Michael Hurtt articulately conveys the “crossroads” both New York City and Chilton were at in 1977. Hurtt writes that Chilton's particular stint in the city is crucial for “Revealing a hitherto unheard middle ground between pop perfection and rock ‘n’ roll iconoclasm.” On this night, Alex was generous with the Big Star songs that were then of recent vintage. At the time, “September Gurls,” “In the Street,”, “Back of a Car” “O My Soul” and “Way Out West” had yet to achieve their full exalted status. After a snarling and coiling version of the Seeds’ “Can’t Seem to Make You Mine," the trio unfolds “The Letter” which is reconfigured in a hard, heavy manner bordering on deconstruction.
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