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SXSW review: Big Star-Alex Chilton tribute at Antone’s
Alex Chilton was everywhere at SXSW 2010, the fact that he died suddenly Wednesday notwithstanding: His passing was Topic A on the street, there was a panel about him and his peerless band, Big Star, Saturday at the Austin Convention Center and showcase bands made a point of playing Big Star out of venue PAs before they came on stage.
And he was most definitely at Antone’s Saturday night, in the form of every one of the musicians who turned out to pay tribute to him in a 12:30 a.m. slot that was supposed to be a Big Star showcase with the man himself. A few of those musicians went on to greater fame than Chilton would ever have in life, but there was no question — if ever there was — that those three albums the greatest power pop band ever produced in the early ’70s have been a well of inspiration for generations of players. Like the Velvet Underground, Big Star never sold a lot of albums, but that music radically redirected the course of countless lives.
And if Saturday night proved anything, it was that legacy and impact matter a lot more than money.
Original drummer Jody Stephens and Pixies Jon Auer and Ken Stringfellow — both enthusiastic members of a reconstituted Big Star beginning in 1993 — anchored the affair, which was vastly more celebratory than weepy and much better organized than similar affairs — especially those planned in haste — which tend to be long on the best of intentions and short on precision. Somebody was definitely keeping the trains running on time backstage as, in the space of just short of 90 minutes, everybody from bassist Mike Mills to Chris Stamey, M. Ward, John Doe, Sondre Lerche, Chuck Prophet, Evan Dando and more came out to witness to the life-changing power of “#1 Record,” “Radio City,” “Third/Sister Lovers.” (Chilton’s later solo work, while admirable, never quite climbed as high.)
If you were wondering which pop bands of the ’80s Big Star influenced, there’s a short answer: All of them. Here’s a very truncated list: Without Big Star, you wouldn’t have the dB’s (Chilton and Stamey were actually in a band after Chilton was in Big Star and before Stamey was in the dB’s), no REM, no Teenage Fan Club, no Replacements, no college radio and, subsequently, no alt-rock explosion of the ’90s. People always say Big Star was, or should have been, the American Beatles but it’s high time to invert the equation: The Beatles should have been the British Big Star.
For instance, “Back of a Car,” which Stephens and his two whipper-snapper bandmates opened with Saturday. It’s all there: more hooks than a bait shop, a melody Lennon and McCartney would have cheerfully swiped, harmonies that scrape the sky and a crunchy guitar that gives the tune just enough dirt under its nails to not come off as precious. And if must be said that Stephens, Stringfellow and Auer completely nailed it right off the blocks and under difficult circumstances; it was apparent that being in Big Star was an honor and a labor of love for the two Posies, not some weekend warrior project. Auer seemed as shaken as anybody there, but the three of them are pros. They put their heads down and got through the gig.
Curt Kirkwood came out to play a Fender Strat on “Don’t Lie to Me” and “In the Steet” and there you have another side of the band’s personality. The former tune demonstrates the catharsis of raging at someone who has betrayed you, the latter about the joy of simply hanging out.
The most surprisingly choice on the set list was “I Am the Cosmos,” which Chris Bell released as a solo single in 1978, the same year he died in a car wreck. Stamey sang that one, serving up an appropriately ethereal guitar solo, then followed up with “When My Baby’s Beside Me” just to make sure things didn’t get too mystical.
The biggest surprise appearance was not the rumored Paul Westerberg — who admired Chilton so much he wrote a song about him — but original bassist Andy Hummel, who flew in from Luthuania (!) for the gig. Hummel joined the band for a few tunes throughout the set, including Way Out West,” which Stephens sang.
Mike Mills’ contribution was “Jesus Christ” from “Sister Lovers,” and it must be said he looked like he was having such a good time he forgot he was at a wake.
John Doe offered a reverential take on “I’m in Love with a Girl.” That song and “13,” which was also offered up Saturday night, are some of the purest expressions of longing ever written in the pop form. If you’ve ever longed for someone so badly you thought your heart might explode, there’s no way you can’t relate to those songs.
The Watson Twins, Susan Cowsill and Hummel came out for the expected closer, “September Gurls,” which features a guitar sound that launched a thousand bands. A few people were yelling for one more, but there’s nothing, nothing that can follow that.
There was precious little speechifying — no time for that — although a statement by Chilton’s widow, Laura, was read, and Stephens made brief statements at the beginning and end. “You’ve wrapped your arms around us,” he said at the end, “and we appreciate it.”
In Westerberg’s “Alex Chilton,” he tries to improve on reality, suggesting that in an alternate universe Chilton is such a big deal children by the millions are screaming for their icon. It should have been so, and on Saturday it felt like that still might come to pass.
Other bands on the bill Saturday had the unenviable task of being overshadowed by a Big Star in absentia. Dwight Twilley offered vintage (and kind of dated) heartland roots rock, exuberant pop trio Junior the Ghost buzzed through a busy set that recalled Ben Folds and They Might Be Giants — leading my boss to suggest the band might well be called “They Might Be Ben Folds” — and St. Deluxe shook the walls with a sound that made you forget about My Bloody Valentine.
But Saturday night was all about the man who wasn’t there, a cult hero, a myth and now a ghost. Long may he reign.
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