{"id":2622,"date":"2010-03-17T22:46:42","date_gmt":"2010-03-18T02:46:42","guid":{"rendered":""},"modified":"2010-03-18T15:48:29","modified_gmt":"2010-03-18T15:48:29","slug":"alex-chilton-dead","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.rocktownhall.com\/blogs\/alex-chilton-dead\/","title":{"rendered":"Alex Chilton Dead"},"content":{"rendered":"

UPDATED: Another departure on the next page.<\/strong>
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\nAlex Chilton<\/strong>, the enigmatic cult figure who first came to stardom as the teenage singer for The Box Tops<\/strong> and later drifted into initially unwanted obscurity with the eventually appreciated Big Star<\/strong> died on Wednesday at 59 years old in a New Orleans hospital. It is believed the cause of death was a heart attack. Here’s a good obit from his hometown paper.<\/a><\/p>\n

UPDATED:<\/strong> If you haven’t seen it already, check out this House of Representatives floor speech tribute by Steve Cohen<\/strong> (D, Tennessee)<\/a>.<\/p>\n

I never saw Chilton on his occasional Big Star tours with drummer Jody Stephens<\/strong> and the guys from The Posies<\/strong>, but I got to see Chilton at J.C. Dobbs, a narrow, little club in Philadelphia in the mid-80s. This was at the height of Big Star cult worship, but Chilton was touring in support of a humble EP of Memphis soul and some odd-ball covers that had more in common with his Box Tops roots than his Big Star stuff. As usual, I was reluctant to see him play songs like “Volare” when I’d been worshipping at the alter of the first and third Big Star albums (and the handful of songs I liked on the second one, an album I still find distracting at too many points). He had some single out at the time called “No Sex.” I thought it was stupid, as I usually find topical ditties to be. Plus I’d heard from friends who had seen him and even hung out with him that he was moody and a little creepy. Word was he couldn’t be counted on as a performer.<\/p>\n

Thankfully I snapped out of it, realizing that I should take advantage of the fact that I was in my early 20s and the doorman used to let me into almost any show without charge. What did I have to lose, except the assumed validity of me preconceptions? <\/p>\n

If memory serves he fronted a trio: him on guitar, some pretty slick, stick-thin (possibly fretless) bassist, and a drummer. The Memphis-style novelty numbers (imagine Rufus Thomas singing his stuff in Chilton’s whiny, twangy voice) worked live. Chilton was a really good guitarist, ripping off tasty licks on a Telecaster. People were shouting out for Big Star numbers now and then, but true to reports he gave off a slightly threatening aura, an aura that threatened to walk off stage if people couldn’t get into the here and now. I forget, he may have played a Big Star song or two during his set, and he may have played a Box Tops song. Maybe. What I do remember clearly is that for his encore he announced that he would now deliver on all expectations. He played a half dozen Big Star classics, from “When My Baby’s Beside Me” to “Kangaroo.” He played “The Letter.” He ended with a really sweet version of the Bacharach\/David song “The Look of Love.” It was a marvelous ending to what started as a surprisingly fun set. <\/p>\n

As a performer\/person, Chilton was inscrutable throughout the show. The guy obviously oozed musicality, but it was hard to get a sense of what he was after. He was the opposite, say, of Joe Strummer<\/strong>. No wonder his career was all over the place. I know people like this in real life and wish they could get some focus, commit to something. Regardless, Chilton left a trail of good music through the years.<\/p>\n

By special request of Townsman Hrrundivbakshi<\/strong>, in the comments on this thread, on behalf of Alex Chilton, please see this piece on Johnny “Guitar” Watson<\/strong><\/a>. Sadly the Soul Train<\/em> interview seems to have been wiped clean from YouTube.<\/em> <\/p>\n

UPDATED: Charlie Gillett also dead.<\/strong><\/em>
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\nMan, I just saw that British DJ\/rock historian Charlie Gillett also died on Wednesday, at 68<\/a>. I’m personally indebted to Gillett for writing the excellent early rock history The Sound of the City<\/em>. It’s not only the music celebrated in the book for which I give thanks but the book’s role – with a great assist by my close personal friend Townsman E. Pluribus Gergely<\/strong> – in me meeting my wife. <\/p>\n

My wife is an old childhood friend of E. Way back in late 1988 I’d just gotten to know him a little bit from his attendance at our band’s shows and then a shocking knock on our door to introduce himself as a neighbor. The couple of times I saw him out I had my eye on a curly-haired, wide-eyed friend of his lurking in the background, alongside his then-girlfriend. Ladies man that I wasn’t<\/em>, this woman was one more reason to investigate the odd charms of my new friend. <\/p>\n

A couple of weeks later chickenfrank<\/strong> and I were out at one of our regular hang-out clubs, checking out a cool garage band. E. Pluribus and his female sidekicks were there too. It turns out this old friend of his had her eye on me – and E. was hungry to fix us up. We made a little shy, awkward small talk until the moment E. said something like, “Hey, you two both love The Sound of the City<\/em>, don’t you?” Talk over that book broke the ice. Thanks, eternally, E. and Charlie Gillett!<\/p>\n

NEXT: Rock Town Hall’s Official Eulogy…<\/em>
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