Showing newest posts with label Big Star. Show older posts
Showing newest posts with label Big Star. Show older posts

Monday, 22 March 2010

The Song - Big Star's "Back of a Car"




Sitting in the back of a car. Music so loud, can't tell a thing. Thinkin' 'bout what to say. And I can't find the lines. Know I love you a lot. I just don't know, should I or not. Waiting for a brighter day.


Another beautiful bijou Big Star slice of youthful infatuation. Those tragicomedic moments when you finally do get close to that special girl and you're "thinkin' 'bout what to say and .. can't find the lines." Those wonderful moments when a little later things unexpectedly kick off! Those unforgettable moments when you gind yourself asking 'Why don't you take me home?"

Written by Alex Chilton with help from Jody Stephens and an uncredited Chris Bell, "Back of a Car" appeared on the then two-piece Big Star's sophomore collection "Radio City" released back in early 1974. A truly great album, described by Cashbox magazine in January 1974 as "a collection of excellent material that hopefully will break this deserving band in a big way." Criminally and sadly it never did.

Here, a version of Big Star - replete of course with the late great Alex - knock out a great version of the song at the Brooklyn Masonic Temple only a few months back - November 18,2009.

Wait a f*cking minute! Why are they performing in a Lodge of the abhorrent arcane satanic Freemason sect? Was the audience full of New World Order weirdos in ancient clobber spouting about Osiris and carrying beacons like the vile Masonic idol, the Statue of Liberty ? ... Yeah, show me the light mofos! Lead me back into 'Egypt'!















Saturday, 20 March 2010

The Song - Big Star's "Kangaroo"






I next saw you ... you was at the party. Thought you was a queen. Oh so flirty. I came against. Didn't say excuse. Knew what I was doing. We looked very fine.



A sublime moment from Big Star's third, final and very fractuous, troubled album known as 'Third/Sister Lovers" laid down over late 1974/ early 1975. An album recorded by the Bell-less version of the band. An album that's bleak and dark yet beautiful. An album deemed by record companies to be so f*cked up it was unreleasable! An album that would not see light of day for over three years after the demise of the band, and then only in an unfinished form. An album never officially given a proper title! An album described by Parke Putterbaugh of Rolling Stone as "one of the most idiosyncratic, deeply felt and fully realized albums in the pop idiom."

An album that in 2003 would be ranked number 456 on Rolling Stone magazine's list of the 500 greatest albums of all time. A classic album. Alex Chilton's true magnum opus.

And this is my favourite track thereon, Chilton's timeless "Kangaroo." A song that's been covered by a diverse array of artists like Beck and, best of all, in a tremendous version by This Mortal Coil.

Chilton's disregard for recording conventions on this occasion led to some very wild experimentation in the studio, all - very thankfully! - readily accomodated by producer Jim Dickinson. For a moment there, I guess Alex Chilton became the Brian Wilson of rock! And if that's the case, this collection could be described as his "Pet Sounds"!

Although Chilton didn't want to be in the studio or even in the band in in late '74 and by some accounts tried to do his best to sabotage the sessions, he couldn't avoid creating a collection of true nuggets. None moreso than this.

"Kangaroo" is, on one level, another beautifully affecting aching Chilton love ballad. However, there's a real sense of desolation here this time. It's a raw discordant song of desolate love written in a post-modern stream of counciousness style. A song of loneliness really; a tortured dream of happiness gone, of a great love lost.

A song of beauty. Beauty that Chilton tries to drown under dissonant intrusive Velvets style instrumentation. Plus a spasmodic slapdash attempt to play a 12-string guitar!! And even a f*cking cowbell!! ... But try as he may, the beauty wins out!

A song with great fragmented lyrics with short fractured lines like "I came against. Didn't say excuse." Lyrics replete with the wonderful couplet "Cause we were leaving like Saint Joan doing a cool jerk."

And then there's that cryptic final line ... "Oh, I want you, like a kangaroo"! What the hell's that supposed to mean? ... Well, maybe it means "I want you so f*cking bad I can't understand it"?

There's a wonderful tale of how the Kangaroo obtained it's English name. Apparently, the name derives from the Aboriginal words for "I don't understand you." Legend has it that when Captain James Cook and naturalist Sir Joseph Banks were exploring Australia, they happened upon the animal and asked a local what the creature was called. The Aborigine responded "Kangaroo" ... meaning "I don't understand you"!Cook and Banks however took "Kangaroo" to be the name of the creature!!
















I first saw you,
you had on blue jeans.
Your eyes couldn't hide anything.
I saw you breathing, oh.
I saw you staring out in space.
I next saw you,
you was at the party.
Thought you was a queen.
Oh so flirty.
I came against.
Didn't say excuse.
Knew what I was doing.
We looked very fine.
'Cause we were leaving
like Saint Joan
doing a cool jerk.
Oh, I want you.
Like a kangaroo.


























Moments In Time - Big Star take a car ride (1972)





Alex Chilton in the early '70s with other Big Star members Andy Hummel and Jody Stephens.

The boys really knew how to have fun!!














In Memoria - Why Alex Chilton should have been a big star





Why Alex Chilton should have been a big star

by Aidin Vaziri, Chronicle Pop Music Critic
Friday, March 19, 2010
www.sfgate.com




Alex Chilton, who died after apparently suffering a heart attack Wednesday at age 59, didn't sell many albums. He may have scored a No. 1 hit as a teenager in 1967 with "The Letter" as the lead singer for the Box Tops. But it was as the front man for the little-known Memphis power pop band Big Star that he made his mark, serving as a major influence on acts such as R.E.M., Beck, Elliott Smith, Ryan Adams and Wilco.

The Replacements even wrote a song for him called "Alex Chilton," which at once celebrated his allure and his relative anonymity: "Children by the million/ Sing for Alex Chilton/ When he comes 'round/ They sing, 'I'm in love/ What's that song?' "

Chilton was scheduled to join the remaining members of Big Star for a retrospective set tonight at the South by Southwest Festival in Austin. The show will now go on as a tribute to Chilton. But you can celebrate his legacy right now by downloading five of his most essential Big Star tunes.


'In the Street'

Even though it was made famous by the Cheap Trick cover that was used as the theme song for "That '70s Show," nothing beats the adrenaline surge of the original version from Big Star's premiere, "#1 Record" - a spectacular pileup of jangling guitars, longing harmonies and just enough cowbell.


'Thirteen'

Now an open-mike night staple, this acoustic ballad finds Chilton at his most vulnerable, musing on young love with the unforgettable lines, "Won't you tell your dad to get off my back?/ Tell him what we said about 'Paint It Black.' "


'Ballad of El Goodo'

R.E.M. practically used this plaintive song as the default blueprint during its early years, borrowing heavily from the song's chiming chords and world-weary soul. They weren't the only ones, either. But no matter how many followers tried, few of Big Star's disciples ever matched the heartbreak in Chilton's wailing tenor.


'Back of a Car'

From Big Star's second release, 1974's "Radio City," this is a messy, lovelorn rock 'n' roll classic that should have been. You can feel the sticky vinyl on your back and the scent of anticipation in the air every time you put it on. "Sitting in the back of a car/ Music so loud, can't tell a thing/ Thinkin' 'bout what to say/ And I can't find the lines."


'Kanga Roo'

The centerpiece of Big Star's final studio album, 1978's "Third/Sister Lovers," which only saw the light of day three years after the band broke up. The anguished tune catches Chilton in the midst of a breakdown brought on by failing to meet commercial expectations. Ironically, it was This Mortal Coil's cover of the song that lifted Big Star out of the cutout bins and made it cult stars.



Follow Aidin Vaziri at twitter.com/MusicSF. E-mail him at avaziri@sfchronicle.com.






Friday, 19 March 2010

The Cover Version - This Mortal Coil do "Kangaroo"






I first saw you. You had on blue jeans. Your eyes couldn't hide anything. I saw you breathing, oh. I saw you staring out in space.


A sublime cover of Alex Chilton's timeless song of desolate love "Kangaroo" by ad-hoc 4AD collective "This Mortal Coil." This appeared as the opener on their 1984 debut "It'll End in Tears", whereon they also covered Chilton's "Holocaust."

This is very different indeed from the original with the real beauty of the song, shrouded in dissonance on "Third/Sister Lovers", brought to the fore. Cindytalk singer Gordon Sharp delivers the powerful vocals above gorgeous strings accompaniment, while the song is really driven by Simon Raymonde's pensive and insistent bass line.

This version of "Kangaroo" was, in September 1984, released as a single to promote the album. Considering the obscure collective and song source, the single was remarkably successful hitting #2 on the UK Indie Charts.

This Mortal Coil's two fine Chilton cover versions have been credited with renewing interest in Big Star, and the cult classic "Third/Sister Lovers" in particular. The 1992 Rykodisc CD release of "Third/Sister Lovers" even includes a "thank you" to This Mortal Coil in the liner notes in acknowledgment.
















Sunday, 22 November 2009

Close to Heaven - Big Star's "Keep an Eye on the Sky" (2009)





There are box sets and there are box sets. And then there's this!

A few weeks back, I got my mitts on the recently released "Keep an Eye on the Sky" box-set by one of the most important groups of all, the mighty Big Star!It's definitely one of the best box sets I've ever listened to - and I'm not even a member of "Teenage Fanclub"!!

If I was a Samurai; and if I met Maria Ozawa; and if Maria refused to do the 'Tokyo Tango'; and if I therefore, in the interests of honour, had to commit Hari Kari; and if I had to choose a box set to play right before committing suicide ... this would be the one!! I would slit my wrists with glee and have a bloody smile on my face!

"Keep an Eye on the Sky" is a wonderful 98-song collection - yap, that's ninety eight, mofos! Importantly, unlike most box sets, the majority of these tracks are previously unreleased, encompassing an array of demos, alternate takes and live performances! All in all, a wet dream for any Big Star fan!

As well as material from founder Chris Bell's earlier groups Rock City and Icewater, "Keep an Eye on the Sky" includes all of the titles (in many cases as alternate mixes or demos) from Big Star's first three studio albums, '#1 Record', 'Radio City', and 'Third/Sister Lovers', as well as a recording of the legendary January 1973 Big Star concert which took place after Bell's departure and before the group began work on "Radio City."

Here's a nice piece on the set from the label  Rhino.com;


Big Star inspired a fevered allegiance among fans of power pop, giving rise to a cult of believers who spent decades spreading the gospel. Their enthusiasm turned this obscure Memphis pop band-one that got little airplay, sold few records, and only played a handful of times- into a remarkable rock and roll resurrection story.

Big Star's trek from obscure Memphis band to standard bearers for an entire genre of music has never been fully mapped-until now. Rhino presents the definitive look at the definitive power-pop band with a four-disc boxed set divided between key cuts from Big Star's three studio albums and unreleased music.

KEEP AN EYE ON THE SKY will be available September 15 from Rhino Records at all retail outlets, including www.rhino.com, for a suggested list price of $69.98 (physical), it will also be available as a digital release the same day. A Deluxe Edition release of Chris Bell's solo album I Am The Cosmos is due September 14 from Rhino Handmade.

KEEP AN EYE ON THE SKY spans 1968 to 1975 and shows the progression of Big Star through selections from such studio precursors as Rock City and Icewater; music from Big Star's acclaimed recordings (#1 Record, Radio City, and Third/Sister Lovers); and relevant solo work by group principals Alex Chilton and Chris Bell, who formed Big Star in 1971 with bassist Andy Hummel and drummer Jody Stephens. The collection also uncovers a trove of unreleased demos, unused mixes, alternate versions of songs, and a 1973 concert recorded in Memphis.

In these 98 tracks you can hear what turned artists as diverse as Cheap Trick, R.E.M., and The Replacements into Big Star fans. Spotlighting the band's roots, the boxed set opens with several songs recorded before Big Star formed, including “Try Again,” one of the first songs Bell and Chilton wrote together. Those early cuts are followed by Big Star's 1972 debut #1 Record, reimagined here using a mix of album tracks and unreleased alternate mixes of favorites like “Thirteen,” “When My Baby's Beside Me,” and more. Among the disc's rarities are “Country Morn'” (issued as a flexi-disc single by a Big Star fanzine), the demo for “I Got Kinda Lost,” and an unreleased acoustic demo of Chilton singing Loudon Wainwright's “Motel Blues.”

Ardent Records, the band's label, experienced problems with distribution that hindered any chances at success for #1 Record. Its failure was a major blow to Bell, who quit the band to go solo. In 1974, the Alex Chilton-led Big Star regrouped and released Radio City, an album more attuned to the band's live energy that featured the power-pop confections “September Gurls” and “Back Of A Car.” The second disc of KEEP AN EYE ON THE SKY opens with a trio of unreleased demos: “There Was A Light,” “What's Going Ahn,” and “Life Is White.”

The original song sequence for Radio City follows, combining album versions with unreleased alternate mixes (“Way Out West” and “You Get What You Deserve.”) The disc features unissued versions of “She A Mover” and “Mod Lang,” several unreleased demos for Big Star's third album, plus Bell's acclaimed 1978 single “I Am The Cosmos” and its B-side “You And Your Sister.” Sadly, Bell died in a car accident a few months after the single's release.

When Big Star reconvened in 1975 to record Third/Sister Lovers, only Chilton and Stephens remained (Hummel left shortly before Radio City's release). Famed Memphis maverick Jim Dickinson was enlisted to supervise the recording, which languished on the shelf for years before its release in 1978. Despite its bleak timbre, wild dynamics, and fragility, the music possesses a startling grace. KEEP AN EYE ON THE SKY's third disc opens with seven demos (most previously unreleased) for songs that appear on Third/Sister Lovers, including “Jesus Christ,” “Take Care,” and “Holocaust.” Among the album's 19 songs collected here is “For You,” “Kizza Me,” and “Kanga Roo.” Also featured is “Lovely Day,” an early, unreleased version of “Stroke It Noel” with different lyrics; Chilton vamping with photographer Bill Eggleston at the piano for Nat King Cole's “Nature Boy” and a raucous cover of The Kinks' “Till The End Of The Day.”

The collection's final disc contains unreleased highlights from three sets Big Star performed at Lafayette's Music Room in Memphis in January 1973. It is the best live recording ever of the band. The show captures Chilton, Hummel, and Stephens playing many of the songs on #1 Record, which had just recently been released. The set list includes a retooled version of “ST 100/6” lengthened by both guitar and drum solos (with a middle eight heisted from the Rock City song “The Preacher.”) Also in the repertoire are “There Was A Light” and “I Got Kinda Lost.” In addition, the concert includes fully formed versions of several songs recorded later for Radio City: “Back Of A Car,” “Way Out West,” “O My Soul,” and a particularly rocking “She's A Mover.” Those originals are mixed with a selection of covers: Todd Rundgren's “Slut,” T. Rex's “Baby Strange,” The Kinks' “Come On Now,” and The Flying Burrito Brothers' “Hot Burrito #2.”

The lavish packaging for KEEP AN EYE ON THE SKY includes extensive liner notes, rare and never-before-seen photos, and insightful essays about the cult of Big Star and the band's history. In the notes, Stephens reflects on the band's belated triumph. “Sure, it would've been nice to have been huge at the time. But, here we are, 30 years later, and Big Star is still playing, our music is turning up in movie soundtracks, and young people are still excited to discover the records. I mean, if that isn't success, I don't know what is.”

*Previously unreleased















Thursday, 16 October 2008

Alex Chilton - Like Flies on Sherbert (Peabody 1979)




Alex Chilton - Like Flies on Sherbert (Peabody 1979)


A rare solo 1979 LP from the wonderful Alex Chilton, once of the sublime Big Star! A true cult classic!

Nice piece below from goodnight-gracie
I once read something along the lines that aside from Rod Stewart, no one had betrayed their talent more than Alex Chilton. The fact that Alex Chilton’s career has not followed the neat path laid out for him, after scoring a few hits as lead singer for the Boxtops and garnering overwhelming critical sycophancy for the first two Big Star albums, has lead many critics to deride Chilton’s post-Big Star output. Chilton’s later works—his uncommon and seemingly whimsical covers of Volare and The Oogum Boogum Song for instance—have done more to disappoint critics and Big Star fans than Like Flies on Sherbert, but to be sure, Flies’ wanton, fractious and ultimate destruction of the Big Star myth has ruffled more than a few feathers. Mark Jordan of The Memphis Flyer referred to the fact that the album has “among Chiltonites…taken on the status of a cult masterpiece,” as “largely [being] a case of the emperor wearing no clothes. Ultimately, [falling] well short of that mark.” Jordan, like many conservative listeners misses the point of Like Flies on Sherbert—it is not about the quality of composition or songsmanship, or (obviously) musicianship; it is a document, a punctuation mark in Chilton’s career (a semicolon rather than a period), a statement of purpose and a musical ethos. It is a masterwork of petulant defiance and the final widening of the gulf between (what Chilton thought of as) Chris Bell’s Beatles-paint-by-numbers songwriting style and Chilton’s catch-as-catch-can musical obstinacy.


The first time that I saw the name Alex Chilton, it was as the producer of The Cramps albums Gravest Hits and Songs the Lord Taught Us, and also The Gories phenomenal I Know You Fine But How You Doin’ record on Crypt. All of which were grim forebodings of what Chilton would become as the seventies wound down. In 1997 I checked out a book from the downtown San Francisco Public Library called The Spin Alternative Record Guide, which besides it’s name and it’s sponsor was an indispensable text in my musical education. Among the bands I discovered between those pages were The Young Marble Giants, Nikki Sudden, The Swell Maps, Richard and Linda Thompson, Wire, The Modern Lovers, The Stooges, and most germane to this essay, Big Star.

Some time later, perhaps a matter of months, I ran across a reissued copy of Radio City on Big Beat at a record shop in Berkeley that specialized in imports. I took it home, listened to it, and did not really care for it, save for maybe I’m in Love With a Girl, which sounded like Elliot Smith to me. At the time, I was too young and in to all things twee and feminine sounding, especially Heavenly and things of that nature (oh, how people change!). I put it away and did not listen to it much for about a year. I remember looking at the cover though, and trying to figure out which one was Alex Chilton—the singer of Cry Like a Baby and The Letter—not knowing he was the short one on the right pointing at the viewer. I eventually warmed up to both Big Star albums, and soon got to the point where I could tell, like with The Beatles, the difference between lead vocalists, that is to say, when it was Alex, and when it was Chris Bell doing the singing (#1 Record only). It was not long before I began searching for Chilton’s solo material, and Bell’s lone solo work, the Geoff Emerick-mixed scattershot masterpiece, I am the Cosmos (which I will review soon).

The Original release of Flies was a 500 record run on the local Peabody label. It was recorded at Sam Phillips Studios in 1978, over what must have been a number of boozy, druggy and chaotic sessions. Jim Dickinson produced, which is to say that he let Chilton run roughshod like a child, a fact that shows in the almost uncontrolled and unfocused nature of the output. All Music Guide’s David Cleary had this to say of Flies sound quality: “Sadly, this release is a dreadful disappointment. Production values are among the worst this reviewer has ever heard: sound quality is terrible, instrumental balances are careless and haphazard, and some selections even begin with recording start-up sound.” Again, the overwrought, cynical and mean conservatism shows through in the banal observations of a rather conventional critic.
Many reviewers unfortunately refuse to see a record on its own terms. Like Flies on Sherbert is a cathartic blast of rock impressionism and an obvious example of not only the deconstruction of the Big Star myth, but of rock and roll in general. The album is a collection of originals and obscure covers (save for the lamentable opener, KC and the Sunshine Band’s Boogie Shoes) like Elvis Presley’s Girl after Girl, Ernest Tubb’s Waltz Across Texas, and the Jimmy Newman-penned swamp-country classic Alligator Man.

Cleary is correct in assessing that precision is not really what Chilton and company were after here, but in calling it dreadful or terrible is more an indictment of him as a listener than Chilton and Dickinson as architects of the album’s sound. There is a primal essence in each track, and a trashy devolution at work here; a kind of catch-as-catch-can innocent brilliance that sets the listener on a collision course with an audacious musical wreck. Chilton’s originals too, are strong, including the brilliant My Rival, a shambling mess of a song about jealousy and rejection that would not sound out of place on an early Pavement record. The title track is the final nail in the coffin of Chilton’s boy-band past, a deconstruction of sixties pop, rendered perhaps unlistenable, in a bad acid kind of way to some, by Jim Dickinson’s reliance on effects laden keyboards and piano.

Chilton and Dickinson obviously never intended to record a conventional album and, more to the point, probably never intended to record a classic of rock deconstructionism either, but their instincts, starting with the Big Star Third/Sister Lovers album began to blaze a path toward that eventual end. It’s not the kind of thing that one could go on doing forever, because once you tear it down, you can never build it back up again; you can not go home again. And to that end, I am sure Chilton has disowned this record, like he disowned the Big Star records before. But it doesn’t really matter if David Cleary or even Chilton himself like the album, it is a document that is out there in the ether. It has been re-issued many times, and is a touchstone for many fans. Like Flies on Sherbert is an album of immense depth, that, I think should be viewed like Neil Young’s Tonight’s the Night, and Skip Spence’s Oar; as albums that are documents of a time and a place, records that embody an essence of emotional immediacy and represent a certain skewed mentality at a given time.
by Goodnight Georgie






Alex Chilton
Like Flies on Sherbert

[Peabody, 1979; Earmark Vinyl, 2003]
OOO/x

Styles: art-rock, rock-a-billy, lo-fi, mutant country
Others: Big Star, the Cramps, Panther Burns, Dolby Fuckers

My favorite scene in Bullit, the 1968 cop flick staring Steve McQueen as Detective Frank Bullit, comes near the end of the movie: Shady Senator Walter Chalmers tells Bullit — who’s been through hell and back, dodging death, knee deep in intrigue, and jumping up and down the hilly streets of San Fran in that ’68 Ford Mustang G.T.390 Fastback — “We all must make compromises.” “Bullshit!” Bullit growls.

I like to imagine Alex Chilton saying the same thing when asked by some clueless record execs to tame down his 1980 debut, Like Flies on Sherbet. Maybe the label just didn’t, you know, get it — their unfeeling commercial aspirations unable to grasp the artistic boldness and significance of Chilton’s masterwork. This is his What’s Going On, his Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. Bravely, Chilton decided to press a meager 500 copies of the album himself; 500 copies of no-compromise attitude, DIY grit, and triumphant artistic expression.

Yet listening closely to Like Flies on Sherbet reveals that, sadly, my imagined Chilton, creative and courageous, might be exaggerated. Likes Flies is one of the most damaged records I’ve ever heard; not damaged in the way Pig Destroyer sounds “damaged,” but I mean totally wrecked. It’s as if no one involved in the performance, production, mastering, or duplication of the album was sober at any time during the process. The playing is sloppy: in-the-red guitars blast-mask any subtlety underneath, the vocals careen out of tune, studio clatter remains audible, and vocal flubs are left brazenly on display. It’s so ruined it can’t be accidental. Gleefully out of control, the record sounds like someone exiting the New York punk scene, someone enamored with The Cramps (who Chilton had produced), inspired by that snot nosed attitude, aiming to deconstruct rockabilly, blues, and country music, and to rebuild them in his own image.

All of which wouldn’t be so surprising if it wasn’t for Chilton’s pedigree: At 16, the Memphis kid was fronting The Box Tops, gallivanting about the country on the strength of the group’s massive hit, “The Letter,” which found the young Chilton sounding impossibly gruff. Eventually, he left The Box Tops, frustrated by a lack of songwriting input, and headed home where he joined the fledgling Big Star. Over the course of three albums, Big Star would define American power pop; they laid the foundation for everyone from The Replacements to R.E.M. and garnered a cult following that still obsesses over every sound on those three records. But commercial success eluded the band, and by the time Third/Sisterlovers was released, the strain was audible. The final album to bear the Big Star name was haunting and disparate, created largely by Chilton alone. A fractured psyche is revealed, capable of chiming power pop as well as tortured balladry (listen to “Oh Dana” followed by “Holocaust”).

Despite an ongoing debate over Third/Sisterlovers’ status as a one-man effort, Like Flies remains Chilton’s first definitive solo album. Holed up in Sam Phillips & Ardent Studios with Big Star producer James Luther Dickinson, Chilton leads a group of session musicians through a rambling set of covers and half-formed originals. “I’ve Had It” showcases the album’s most out-of-key performance, with multi-tracked vocals stumbling across the room. KC and the Sunshine Band’s “Boogie Shoes” (the first track or not included at all, depending on which rare pressing you hunt down) features another glorious mistake: Chilton comes in with the vocals too early and in the wrong key.


“Girl After Girl” goes for prime Elvis and ends up sounding like dead-toilet Elvis, while the Carter Family standard, “No More the Moon Shines on Lorena,” features some high, lonesome vocals that don’t entirely fail until Chilton begins uncontrollably laughing amidst the tale of slavery and loss.

It’s not that these tracks are without merit, though. The playing, still messy and loud, is positively gleeful and, on Chilton’s originals, surprisingly appropriate. “My Rival” stomps with Sonic Youth joy, driven guitars chugging along with complete abandon, and “Hey! Little Child” re-imagines Big Star’s lovelorn “Thirteen” as a Catholic school girl call out; with its repeated chorus of “Hey! Hey! Hey!” the song fits alongside “S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!” and “Hey ho! Let’s go!” in the pantheon of deliriously stupid and wonderful rock ‘n’ roll mantras. The album’s title track, “Like Flies on Sherbet,” is an ace card: a pounding piano-driven rocker embellished by avant-garde synth and guitar squeals that sounds something like a Here Come the Warm Jets B-side covered by Badfinger.

To say that Like Flies on Sherbert is a masterpiece of lo-fi punk would be a misnomer. Chilton wasn’t a punk rocker, even if he wanted to be. But to decry the album as an utter failure would be just as faulty. Chilton’s work has grown increasingly stale over the years, the oddball madness of early albums replaced by cool ambivalence and easy listening forays into jazz and blues. Modern Chilton doesn’t seem to care about anything, but the Chilton of Like Flies seems to care about not caring. What he found so exciting about punk was its engagement of the audience. Like Flies is G.G. Allin tossing excrement on his crowds; it’s Iggy Pop rolling around in broken glass and peanut butter; it’s Elvis Costello cutting the band off mid-song on SNL and launching into “Radio Radio” instead. Like Flies is the sound of a musician railing against the indifference he felt his career had endured.

Chilton may not be the “rock-hard” Bullit, refusing to compromise, but his album at least recalls that film’s famous car chase. There’s one scene where the camera is hit by one of the cars, causing the shot to shake violently before cutting out. The scene was left in the movie. Perhaps the director wanted to make it known that the chase was real, that there was tangible danger and risk involved. Like Flies on Sherbert is an entire album of that shot. It certainly isn’t perfect, but it’s absolutely real.





What happens when a pop genius goes on a bender and tries to give a middle finger to his record label? The answer is found on Like Flies on Sherbert. If you are looking for utter dourness of Sister Lovers, the punchy pop of the Box Tops or the power pop of Big Star’s most accessible tunes, you will be sorely disappointed. It is a drunk and drugged ode to the origins of rock and roll that is evenly split between moments of utter brilliance and sloppy bar band chaos. However, I even like the unrehearsed and thoroughly fucked versions of classics as well as sabotaged originals that are deformed into some base form that sound like little else I’ve heard.

Somehow my teenaged self heard a radio show on Brave New waves where Yo La Tengo played their favorite songs for a bit. This was in the early 90s before I even knew about Big Star or the “The Letter” was a byproduct of Alex Chilton. They played the title track and it was an epiphany. There is so much going on in this song. It is a combination of apathy and passion. He attempts to ruin it with high-pitched vocals and intoxicated piano chords, poorly placed choruses and synthesizer mayhem, but I swear it os one of the most beautiful things thine ears have had the pleasure of hearing. Chaos suited him and his increasingly mannered follow-ups to Like Flies on Sherbert suggest that he should despise the world more often.

“I’ve had It” reminds me of John Cale circa Paris 1919 after too many whiskeys and a stick removed from his anus. It has the grandiose chorus and piano chords of Cale’s prime period, but Chilton fucks it all up in the right ways. it lacks in the intricacy and orchestration of Cale’s work, it makes up for in a shaggy dog charm that Cale would probably revile with all of his heart.

To be honest, some of the album misses the mark and descends into a charmless middle finger, but I wish there were more albums that could hold a candle to Chilton’s mangling of R&B, soul, 50s and 60s rock and roll. I find it hard to believe that this was intended as a throwaway since it brings out previously unseen qualities in his work. Sadly, they were never seen again.

by magicistragic



Tracklisting

1. Baron Of Love, Pt. II
2. Girl After Girl
3. My Rival
4. No More The Moon Shines On Lorena
5. I’ve Had It
6. Rock Hard
7. Waltz Across Texas
8. Alligator Man
9. Hey! Little Child
10. Hook Or Crook
11. Like Flies On Sherbert
12. Boogie Shoes
13. Baby Doll
14. She’s The One That’s Got It
15. Dateless Night



here she be:




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