rock and roll musings by Tim Byrnes

A CHILD WITH A LOADED GUN: THOUGHTS ON BIG STAR THIRD

Big Star Third is a crippled kitten of a record, it’s attraction the warm glow of a b/w tv set rather than the kaleidoscopic explosion of the more heavy acts of the 70s. While Mott and Bowie and the Dolls etc reveled in their strangeness, celebrating the geek as a power source, Alex Chilton ( who by the time ‘Third’ was released was Big Star) stood, barely, as all raw nerve, exposed and shivering in the cold of his own isolation.

Big Star, for the uninitiated are, perhaps, the great lost band of the 70's and Alex Chilton our great, lost genius. The fact that their ‘In the Street’ has found a twisted fame at the hands of Cheap Trick as the theme for ‘That 70's Show’ feels more like the final shovel of dirt on the grave than any deserved, though belated, recognition. Their 1^st two records 1972's #1 Record and 1974's "Radio City" were unadulterated power pop gems, strangely unsuccessful in their day. But the true masterpiece was the Third album, alternately called "Sister Lovers", recorded in 1974 but not released until 1978. From the baroque pining of ‘Stoke It Noel’ to the childlike joy of "Jesus Christ" to the harrowing visions of ‘Holocaust’ and ‘Kanga Roo’ to the sheer loveliness of ‘Blue Moon’ and Chilton’s cover of the Velvets’ ‘Femme Fatale’, Third is a magnificently human album, soaked in and reflecting a panorama of emotions. Like a drunken friend who can shift personae at the drop of a shot glass, the Big Star of Third laughs itself into a crying jag, congratulates itself with petty jealousy and rocks you, like a hurricane, to sleep.

Repackaged beyond recognition, the original intent of Big Star Third has been, for all intents and purpose, lost. Chilton’s not talking. In recent interviews he writes this work off as lightweight ‘kid stuff’. If only more kids were this lightweight. Third is a record that seeps into you, if you let it, if you have the nerve,,,y’see Third is the sound of the damaged heart, the last line of the suicide note and all the more beautiful in it’s opaque desperation. Third calls to mind the bleak landscape of the beaten down, a soul so weary, just fucking tired of

this black plain that passes for life. Yeah, rock and roll is about escapism, about ‘rising above it all, maaaaan", well let me tell ya, that whole ‘hammer of the gods’ crap is entirely false and ultimately insufficient in the face of a world full of liars and failure and the broken promise of genius + hard work= love and happiness, and I’d rather have the comfort of the good cry, which this album is the listening equivalent, to the mindless bravado of a thousand Led Zeppelins braying ‘I’m a Man’ as if that, by itself, meant something.

The warm, oval cellos of the sad song sung in a silent night to the soul in need of solace is a far greater contribution to the world than all your houses of the holy combined.

Posted by: timbyrnes at 23:02 | link | comments

Comments: