In 1987, “September Gurls” was the song that made me start a band. Just so I could know what it felt like to play that perfect pop song.
Merlin Mann on Alex Chilton. I’m still pretty torn up about the whole thing. Big Star was playing the Levitt Shell at Overton Park in May, and Ashley and I had V.I.P. tickets that let us into the soundcheck and the pre-show cocktail party that would be attended by the band. Having some connections at Ardent, I was all set to finally get to meet Alex and Jody. I was finally going to get to meet my hero, and even though he was probably tired of hearing it, I was going to tell him he changed my life.
To say that Alex Chilton is the reason I’m in a band is to understate his influence on my way of thinking. Besides the fact that they’re three of the best records ever made, all three in my top 25, Big Star taught me that being original and real is always worth it, no matter whether people “get it” or not. Big Star sold 4,000 records total while they were a band.
After that, Chilton bottomed out in New York, but after that he came back home to Memphis and laid down Like Flies on Sherbert with Jim Dickinson. That record taught me two things: (1) that Memphis rock ‘n roll music is not supposed to be a neat, tidy thing, that it is supposed to be ragged and wild and crazy and the utmost expression of everything you can’t say in public, and (2) that doing what is expected is not the way to create anything of any value. Chilton could’ve kept writing pretty pop songs the rest of his life. Instead, he chose to do, basically, whatever the hell he wanted. He would’ve been just as obscure either way, so why not do what he felt like doing?
Look, I can’t sit here and explain what Alex Chilton’s music means to me—it can’t be done. I’m just saying my hero is dead, and my birthday present isn’t going to be anywhere near as wonderful as it was supposed to be, and both of those things make me profoundly sad.
Reblogged from merlin|70 notes