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I wrote these thoughts a few days before Alex Chilton's passing...
Super 400 had just left Memphis after spending a wonderful time with Jody Stephens and John Fry. We wished Big Star well on their upcoming SXSW appearance, wished we could be there to hear them play. The news hit us the next night in Chicago. Super 400 had just gotten offstage and we all had texts waiting in our phones from friends at home, saying that Alex was gone. Here are my feelings about being lucky enough to have Big Star in my life:
I remember 21, hopeful and hungry to start a sensation in a rock and roll band of my own. I dreamed to be in step with the impossible feel and taste of my childhood heroes. Young writers have a habit of molting a conglomeration from the cool around them, this is true in all the arts I guess.
Our group of friends would gather in whomever's apartment was hosting snacks and smokes, and we'd spin records all night, absorbing the goodness of youth. At that age, you already have the Hendrix, Beatle, and Zeppelin benchmarks, and much of the lesser known stuff doesn't stick with you. When Big Star's '#1 Record' hit me for the first time, it was so true and right, I felt cool just listening to the sound. I have been hooked ever since.
There is a short list of artists that have achieved such a combination of swagger and tenderness. Their music has been the soundtrack to my adult life; these four musicians hold a claim to many of my cherished memories as a woman, a musician and a lover of sound.
Our band listens to the Big Star records constantly on the road. We've been turning people on to them for several years and in every state and country we visit. Last year we realized a long time dream of recording at Ardent in Memphis, where Big Star's records were made. The walls there do talk; you can visit this Mecca and find out for yourself.
I've heard people say that once they hear Big Star, they realize what an influence the band has had on much of music since, particularly in the past decade. It's fair to say that Big Star had a foothold in my brain's understanding of Rock and Roll, long before I was lucky enough to hear a note of #1 Record or Radio City.
Super 400 is a rock band from Troy, New York. Active since the mid 90’s the band has released 4 studio albums and one live set as of September 2009.
The band was formed by long time friends Kenny Hohman (guitar and vocals) and Joe Daley (drums) and played in various incarnations throughout New York City and Woodstock. The lineup would not be finalized until the addition of bassist Lori Friday in February 1996.
The band was signed to Island Records and released their self titled debut on July 13th 1998 on the Island/Trade 2 label. In December 1998 Seagram purchased Island Records and many of their lesser known bands including Super 400 were released from their roster.
Super 400 continued to play and record, self releasing Blast the Message (October 1st 2004), 'Live 05' (November 26th 2005), '3 And The Beast' (April 21st 2007) and 'Sweet Fist' (September 15th, 2009).
The band is a taper friendly band and encourages the recording and free trading of their live shows.
Everyone has an artistic point of reference. Enter to win Super 400's 'Sweet Fist' on vinyl by sharing your Big Star-inspired tale—your band's—or a band or performer who can cite Big Star as a unique influence. Please remember to leave a contact email address. The winner will be notified next Monday, 4/5/2010.
Eight weeks in and we're taking a different approach this week - not a current release but a seminal release: Uncle Tupelo's, 'Anodyne.'
Alternative country-rock group Uncle Tupelo was formed in the Midwestern backwater of Belleville, Illinois, by high school friends Jay Farrar, Jeff Tweedy, and Mike Heldorn. Their marriage of punk rock animus with the simplicity of American roots music ignited a major movement heralding rock's return to traditional country origins.
Heldorn had departed, Ken Coomer signed on, and in 1993 the band released one final album, 'Anodyne,' widely considered their definitive work. Recorded live in an Austin studio, the disc reinterprets country, rock, and folk idioms with the compelling vision that was Tupelo's own.
After parting ways, members went on to found Wilco and Son Volt, but the brief and shining moment that was Uncle Tupelo will forever cast a long shadow on American roots rock.
The rules can't be any simpler for our RSD2010 Vinyl Giveaways. All you need to do to enter to win is to leave a comment in the comments section to that week's giveaway letting us know why you deserve to win that week's LP.
Be creative, funny, incisive—whatever it takes to grab our attention to deem you the winner. Most important however is to leave us a contact email address! You can be brilliant as hell, but if we can't track ya' down, you're out of the running.
All winners will all be notified on Monday (4/5) upon the launch of the next RSD2010 Vinyl Giveaway!
Breaking through the Christian music scene in 2003 with his debut album Grace Like Rain and back-to-back #1 hits, “Grace Like Rain” and “This Fragile Breath”, Todd Agnew soon became one of Ardent Records' most popular and best selling artists. Seven years later, Todd has sold over 1 million copies of the track “Grace Like Rain” and 700,000 total albums combined, received six Dove Award Nominations, and performs over 150 dates a year.
A Memphis, TN resident throughout his career with Ardent, Todd recently married and moved to his native homeland of Texas in the “live music capital” of Austin and quickly became enamored with its exquisite options for his favorite pastimes. Next time you venture down to the Austin area, consider Todd's highly recommended hot spots.
1. Go to the movies. I like going to the movies in Austin more than anywhere else. The screen isn't bigger or the sound better. It's the vibe and the food. If you come to town and want to check out a movie, you have to go to Alamo Drafthouse. We visit three of their locations: the Village (nearest our house), South Lamar (our first visit), and the Ritz (downtown on sixth street). First, the vibe is amazing. It's really creative. For big releases, they often build their own pre-show. For opening night of Iron Man, they played Sabbath's Iron Man video, some old Iron Man cartoons, some old RDJ footage, and a homemade series of clips with two comic book guys. And the food is awesome. I normally get "Once Upon a Time In Mexico," which is an amazing steak salad. Plus the fried pickles, of course. But everything I've had there has been awesome. Sometimes they'll have a new menu item or two to go along with a big movie. When we went to see Sherlock Holmes, I had their Shepherd's Pie. I wish they had that all the time. Incredible. Plus they have special events, like a free midnight ninja movie, or a showing of Lost, or a night where they play all 80's love song videos and everyone sings along. Anyway, great place to go.
3. Go to church. I know it's probably not what you were expecting, but it is a favorite. My church is called the Austin Stone Community Church. We meet at Austin High School every Sunday. It's a great place. Lots of college kids, lots of real people. The music is great, which says a lot considering my standards. We mainly have two guys leading worship, Andy Melvin and Aaron Ivey. No matter who is leading, it's top notch every week. We have three main guys who preach, all incredible. It doesn't matter if Matt, Halim, or Jeff are preaching, they are going to teach something great, true, applicable, and understandable. We have missional communities where you can get to know others and be a part of what God is doing here. It's a church that really wants to connect to Austin, not get away from it. Recently they have had a Music for the City event where one of our bands played with Fastball, one of Austin's top bands. A couple of our bands played down on Sixth Street for a Haiti benefit as well. It's a great place and we love it.
4. Go hear music. This is obviously a big one for me. Whether it's the big festivals or the small clubs, there is great music around Austin all the time. In the spring we have SXSW, known as South by Southwest to the uninitiated. I believe there are 1500 bands here this year. So much new, and often, great music. They play in pretty much every venue in town. In the early fall is the Austin City Limits festival. This is a more classic, one weekend, multi-stage festival. I was on tour this year and missed it, but the years previous I saw amazing shows there: the Raconteurs, Robert Plant and Alison Krauss, Patty Griffin, Old 97's, and so much more. And of course, we have more live venues than just about anywhere, so you can see a good show just about any night you have free time. I love Antone's, the old blues club downtown. We went to see my fave, Doyle Bramhall II, out there recently and he was amazing. Before him, we got to hear a local guy I didn't know, but he was great too. Just bought tickets to a show at Emo's here in a few weeks. A birthday present to myself. Needless to say, tons of great music to hear.
5. Go for the arts or the parks. We have so many cool things come through town, whether because of the city itself or the University of Texas being here. David Sedaris and Anthony Bourdain are both due in town next month. Phantom starts next week, with Stomp coming in May. Plus, we get many plays and dance troupes. My family saw The Nutcracker ballet over Christmas with the distinctly Austin flavor of having a local weatherman play the part of Mother Ginger. Also, Austin has a lot of museums. No, it's not Chicago or anything. But I was in one building for an event and noticed an original Gutenberg Bible. Pretty amazing. We love going downtown to the Children's Museum as well. Educational, fun, and a way better afternoon than Chuck E. Cheese. If you like to be outside, there's a lot to do as well. There's a ton of bike trails. It's not Albuquerque, but it is the home of Lance Armstrong. You can always head downtown and check out his bike shop, Mellow Johnny's. I've heard they have showers so you can ride in in the morning, hop in the shower, then head over to work. Our family's favorite is probably Zilker Park. Beautiful and fun. Great playground. Great open field full of soccer players, frisbee throwers, and kite fliers, with plenty of room for all. Plus a huge bike/jogging trail. This is where they hold ACL fest and a Christmas light show. And Blues on the Green in the summer. And the spring Kite festival. And a lot more.
6. Go shopping. I know that doesn't really sound like me, but it felt wrong to leave it out. I love Austin, because small business works here. There's not just a mall with the same stores that are everywhere else. If you've seen anything about Austin, it's probably one of those t-shirts that say, "Keep Austin Weird". Well, that's actually a slogan to support local businesses. You can walk down South Congress Ave. and see store after store of unique things. And there's a lot of it here in our neighborhood as well. Anyway, maybe that will help if you ever get stuck in Austin for a day, or a week. Don't stay too long though, because you won't want to go home. It's that great. Maybe I'll see you here sometime.
When I was just starting out in my band the Posies, the first band I had that made records and toured, etcetera, back in 1988, we were introduced to the music of Big Star. People heard our early music and assumed, correctly, that we'd find the pure harmonies, heartbreaking sentiment, and mix of rock power and Byrds-like jangling bliss a great inspiration and sympathetic vibration to our own music. It was something of a revelation, one that has probably confounded thousands of listeners when they discover these records for the first time, "How could this band not have been hugely popular?”
And that, my friends, is where the dichotomy began.
Before Big Star, if the critics loved it, if it was quality, word got around, and artists who were influential artistically, like The Doors, Jimi Hendrix, the fucking Beatles, for fuck's sake, sold millions. There was crap too, also selling millions. The only band that didn't sell was The Shaggs.
Big Star was not part of a rebellion, like the punks would be soon after. They were a hot band in Memphis, with great songs, and a huge music machine (CBS) behind them. And they failed, spectacularly. It was a tree falling in the woods though - nobody knew the band, so no one knew what they were missing. But so began the idea that there were two worlds in music - the crapmosphere of the latest pop idols, and the quality control layer that was just for those in the know. Suddenly, the idea prevailed that the better a band was - the less likely it was to sell. And in fact, the ability to turn away listeners was a sign of quality. In many ways I agree. In many ways, Big Star has nothing to do with this argument.
I digress. Big Star became heroes because they satisfied every test for quality you could apply, but also they were the ultimate underdogs, a symbol of the unjust whims of popular taste. Something was wrong with the system and here was the proof. The star factory couldn't even makes stars out of Big Star.
I knew Alex first through this context and through his music. We were fans - fans enough to consider taking our first big budget from Geffen Records and spending it at Ardent Studios in Memphis where all of Big Star's albums (and albums we loved by the Replacements, REM, Led Zep, ZZ Top) were made. We eventually decided to stay in Seattle, but via his position as the company's A&R/PR/business gettin' guy, Big Star's Jody Stephens became a fan, a friend, and a friendly familiar face when we were at events like CMJ, South by Southwest, etc.
When some college kids from Missouri threw the dice and had the boldness to enquire if Big Star would reunite for their spring concert...and Alex said yes, Jody called us to fill in the missing posts formerly held by the late Chris Bell and the retired-from-music Andy Hummel. Our first rehearsal in Seattle was where we met Alex for the first time. At first a bit of a cipher, or perhaps a sphinx, he kept his words spare. But even in those first rehearsal days we were talking about Dostoevsky... and it seemed Alex wasn't like other musicians we had played with - more interested in their bongs or their thinly-supported intellectual aspirations, if not practices. Alex was disciplined, and curious, a formidable combo.
But Alex was more than a great intellect (he was widely read, widely interested, willing and able to discuss at length virtually any subject except Big Star). He was charming, challenging, spontaneous and generous. He proposed after a short time of Jon & me playing with Big Star that our contributions merited equal pay. He drove me around Memphis pointing out the housing project where Elvis had lived at one point. We played tennis and had dinners together in his frequent visits to Paris. He introduced me to the music of Faron Young, Rodd Keith, and more. Though he had a reputation for being difficult, the Alex that I have tour managed for the last decade has been the Alex of, “Yeah, cool...whatever. No problem.”
He didn't do interviews. He didn't have email. You had to call him to ask him a question. Isn't that more sociable? I think he thought so. And it is for that sociability, as well as that integrity, that stand out among the many things I will miss about Alex.
Ken Stringfellow will join Jon Auer and Jody Stephens in a tribute to Alex Chilton at the Levitt Shell in Memphis, TN on May 15th. More special guests to be announced soon.
JohnDavis on Chris Bell's I am the Cosmos Deluxe Edition from Rhino Handmade
The day after Alex Chilton died, I was asked by an interviewer how I felt about his sudden passing. I told him that, obviously, I felt sad and surprised and a great sense of loss. However, equal to the sadness, I also felt happy that Chilton was able to know, while he was still alive, just how much people loved him and his music. Granted, his persona was one of a cranky, mercurial recluse but, beneath that exterior, he surely must have known how much be meant to people and found some pleasure in that. Chilton’s one-time bandmate in Big Star, Chris Bell, was not as fortunate.
Before his death in a car accident in the waning days of 1978, Bell only had an inkling that interest in Big Star was starting to grow. Shortly before Bell’s death, EMI Records reissued the first two Big Star albums, “#1 Record” and “Radio City,” as a double album in the UK. John Fry, the founder of Ardent Studios and the band’s engineer and mentor, told me that the reissue excited Bell – particularly that the words “EMI Records” could be found emblazoned on its cover, just like they were on the records by his idols, The Beatles. Despite being witness to this first step in the resurrection of Big Star, Bell never knew the belated hosannas his music would eventually receive.
As interest in Big Star grew in the years to come and Chilton’s reputation as an eccentric genius was cemented, so did interest in the work of the band’s /other/ genius. Bell was only an official member of the band for “#1 Record” - though he appears uncredited on “Radio City” - but the pairing of Chilton and Bell was magical. Many wondered what had happened to Bell after he quit the band. Other than a two-song single issued shortly before he died (featuring the transcendent “I Am The Cosmos” and the plaintive “You And Your Sister”), there was little else available from Bell.
Much as a reissue sparked the resurgence in Big Star, it was a reissue of sorts, 1992’s “I Am The Cosmos,” that laid out just what a special songwriter and singer Bell was. Compiled with help from Bell’s brother, David, “I Am The Cosmos” contained the two songs from the 1978 single and also another ten magnificent, searing songs that had never been released to that point. There were rockers like “I Don’t Know," “I Got Kinda Lost,” and “Get Away” and there were more plangent pleas like “Though I Know She Lies” and the absolutely crushing “There Was A Light.” Everybody loves to find a buried treasure and here was a small, but potent, cache of gems from a somehow overlooked voice. Like Gene Clark or John Lennon’s early solo work, Bell’s expressions were one of a deeply wounded man searching for answers and relief. Evidence suggests that Bell never really found either, which makes the music he left behind all the more heartbreaking now.
I had long wondered what other Bell tracks might lay in the vaults and it seems that the recent Deluxe Edition of “I Am The Cosmos” has answered that question definitively. In terms of solo compositions, there is little new on this deluxe reissue (which adds an entire second disc of rare and previously unreleased material to the original’s twelve songs), but the copious alternate versions hold their own. The alternate version of “I Don’t Know” adds a crunching, Badfinger-style opening that manages to make the song even more buoyant. The mellotron added to the alternate “You And Your Sister,” finds this take less tortured than heavenly. A different version of “Get Away” reunites Bell with Chilton and the results sound like prime Big Star. We can only wonder what would have happened had the two kept writing and recording together.
The only downside of this latest Bell reissue is that it seems like there may be nothing more to unearth. The reissue’s inclusion of nice, but unspectacular, songs that Bell recorded with other musicians (namely, Keith Sykes and Nancy Bryan) indicates that the well is dry. If that’s so, it’s hard to complain, even if we’re left wishing that there was more.
It’s easy to think about what we lost when Bell died far too young, but it’s even easier to listen to what we have and smile. He may not have known it but to a modest few, Bell matters just as much as his heroes did to him. Thanks, Chris, you are the cosmos.
Chris Bell'sI am the Cosmos Deluxe Edition can only be purchased at Rhino.com.
John Davis is the writer/arranger behind the band Title Tracks which emerged in mid-2008 from the still-smoldering ashes of Georgie James. Title Tracks debut full-length album, "It Was Easy." was released on Ernest Jenning Records in February 2010.
Growing up in Memphis, I remember fondly now defunct record stores like Cats Music and Tower Records. When I would go into these stores I would be completely overwhelmed with all the choices. It was like going into a book store and not knowing what to read. I learned about some great music through these stores, mostly on my own. I tried to hold true to a theory that former Red Hot Chili Pepper’s guitarist John Frusciante once said, "If the cover looks cool, pick it up. You never know."
That's how a friend of mine found out about a band called The Format. Great album artwork can sometimes go a long way.
I recently went to a record store in Springfield, MO called Stick It In Your Ear Records. I spent about 2 hours there and ended up spending a long time speaking to the owner whose name escapes me at the moment. I ended up purchasing a Buffalo Springfield album before I left. It was an album I might never have listened to if it weren’t for my experience that day in a Record Store.
Vinyl seems to have crept its way back into popularity these days. I just recently acquired a turntable and finally have been able to listen to my vinyl album collection, which consists of everything from The Best Of Sam & Dave, to Ray LaMontagne. Lucky for me, my father just happens to have the biggest collection of vinyl I've ever seen. It’s over 1500 records and some of it is completely out of print, so I basically have my very own Record Store to peruse. I’ve become obsessed with the way old vinyl sounds and I’m looking forward to the chance of recording to tape at Ardent Studios, like so many of my musical heroes have. We would love to put out some of our own music on vinyl, hopefully that will be one of the next dreams we get to see come true.
There is really no way to express what it feels like to have the opportunity to record at Ardent. The history, the people, the gear - its all pretty mind blowing. In a million years I never would have thought I would be recording music in a place of its stature. We’ve come a long way from the bedroom. Recently, Ardent started cutting vinyl again. They have the original cutting lathe from Stax Records that Larry Nix used on so many of those old legendary albums. It’s pretty cool that there is still that option to have music in that format. As a matter of fact, every thing about that place is cool - to be in the same building where great engineers such as John Hampton, Jeff Powell, Curry Weber, and Pete Mathews work, all who are Grammy award winning/nominated engineers/producers, is just mind-boggling. And let’s not forget the studio manager is Big Star's Jody Stephens.
Back to Record Stores; I really wish I grew up in a time where they were more prominent and important (circa 1960s through the 1970s). These days Memphis still has several record stores going strong and spreading the musical love. Stores like Shangri La and Goner Records are world renowned staples of Memphis music. They are places that you can go in and spend hours just dreaming and learning about music. It’s one of the best ways I can think of to spend an afternoon. So long live vinyl! And long live Record Stores!
Joy Whitlock was initially discovered by Todd Agnew, when he stumbled upon her cover band at a local Memphis venue. Surprisingly impressed with her captivating vocals and even more inspired by her testimony, Todd pitched Joy to the label and in 2005 Ardent released an EP titled 'The Fake EP.' In 2008 she released her first nationally distributed LP, 'God and a Girl.' Reminiscent of singer songwriters Jennifer Knapp, KT Tunstall, Lucinda Williams, both albums weave candid lyrics and compelling vocals showcasing her authentic spiritual journey and communicating hope within struggle and faith despite fear.
Always a fan of music, Joy professes that her first Sarah McLachlan concert as a teen is what truly ignited her passion for music and songwriting. Here she shares five albums that were influential in shaping her musical career.
1. Sarah McLachlan – 'Possession' As an adolescent and pre-teen, I was into R&B and rap music. Looking back now, it surprises even me. Around the age of 17, I was taken to a Lilith Fair concert and was introduced to the music of Sarah McLachlan. My life now is a direct result of that night; the very next day I owned my first guitar. Her album “Possession” ripped my heart out. I had never heard lyrics so real and articulate. It changed the course of my life.
2. Garrison Starr - 'Eighteen Over Me' This was my first introduction to “acoustic driven” music. Again, it blew my mind. It was raw and full of emotion that was completely identifiable to me. This album helped shape the way I began to write.
3. Foo Fighters - 'The Colour and the Shape' This album was amazing then and is amazing now. It is in my opinion, their best album after all these years. My writing style, in no way, resembles theirs, but if I could write a rock album, I would reference the Foo Fighters and only the Foo Fighters. This album is pure rock 'n' roll.
4. Jennifer Knapp - 'The Collection' I became a Christian in 2004 and was no fool to the stigma placed on Christian music. I was already confused about what form my songs would take. I knew that my passion was completely God and completely music, but I was disheartened by the “manufactured” sound that often came across on Christian radio. So I was not prepared for what I found when I walked into a Christian bookstore looking for CDs to buy. I simply began walking through the aisles picking up CDs that looked interesting. I stumbled upon one with an album cover of a girl and a guitar. Sold! And when I heard her music…. I was home. Nobody was writing like this girl. And still, nobody is.
5. Brandi Carlile - 'Give Up the Ghost' This chick is a class act. Sometimes you don’t have the complete picture with musicians until you see them live. There have been a couple of artists that I have enjoyed until I went to their show. They were either too withdrawn and wanted nothing to do with the audience or they were completely obnoxious. This young lady is the real deal. She is intelligent, humorous, has a great personality, and is truly engaging. All of her albums are winners, but this one is my favorite.
When I hung the phone up, I had just finished going through my iPhoto pictures, trying vainly to categorize them for the thirty seventh time. I kept coming across one in particular that fit into 9 of my categories and I had to get it down to 1. It could be “Ardent Folk”, “Music Folk”, “Family”, “Bizarre”, “Bigger that Life”, “Clients”… it was a picture of Alex with my first wife, before I had met either. Hmmmmm. When my phone rang, I answered it with my “EEEYELLOW.” Adam, my assistant, was telling me that Alex Chilton had just died. That was followed by that eerie silence. First I thought “he can’t be dead. I just saw him.” I guess it’s a weird form of shock. Adam was saying something about Fry – John Fry, our founder. Since I was going right by his house on my way home, I thought I would just drop by and check on him. His wife was at home, but then again, she wasn’t around in the day.
I first met Alex at Shoe Studios in Memphis when he was producing another friend, Tommy Hoehn. And Jon Tiven was there as pseudo executive producer. Tommy and Alex had written a song called “She Might Look My Way” which someone said had missed the cut for Big Star’s Radio City record.
The drums weren’t quite the “vibe” and they needed a drummer. I got the gig. At Shoe, you couldn’t see into the control room. The usual glass ONLY through the headphones. Being the first time for me to ever play in ANY studio, it was … disconcerting at best. So I played as directed and the record was eventually released on Henry Loeb’s “Power Play” records which had also released the Scruffs first single. WOW! I had just played on my first record ever and Alex, the Big Star, had produced it. I was hot stuff, right? Well,considering I was just out of high school and already headed toward my goal-working in a recording studio. I was a happy dude. It was 1974.
March 17, 2010. As I headed down John’s street, I first looked the 1/4 mile to the garage to see if he had company. He did, but I drove up anyway. I called him from his driveway and when he answered, I asked him if everything was cool in there. He replied he was in the “shock bubble”, but assured me he was fine (for now). John had worked extensively on both of the Big Star records and had become very close with Alex, Chris Bell, Andy Hummell and Jody Stephens. They were his friends as well as his label’s pride.
#1 record and Radio City were two of the most influential records ever made. But with distribution problems surrounding Stax… well, Big Star’s sales just never happened. I had heard rumors of Big Star’s records ending up in the soul music section of record stores, which I guess made sense in a weird sort of way. If the rumor is true, it would explain why such an influential band had such dismal sales. When you want to buy a rock record, you go to the rock section and if the record isn’t there, you usually buy something else instead of asking “Where are your Big Star records?” I tend to believe the story given the track record Stax had at the time.
Cut to 1977. A guy named Miles Copeland (as in IRS Records, as in Stewart as in The Police) had called to book time for a band he wanted Alex to produce called “The Cramps.” Alex asked if I could engineer the record. Since all I knew at the time was how to align a tape machine and repair faders, I was the perfect choice! Right?
We had a ball doing that record. Lux Interior was always in character, Brian threw a cinder block at a pile of stuff we had built from folding chairs, flourescent tube lights, a couple of cymbals … and we recorded the subsequent chaos. Lux sang “Human Fly” and “Sunglasses After Dark”. It was NYU performance art becoming a validated rock music scene. Alex basically taught me how to make a rock-a-billy record, and we superimposed that methodology on the Cramps. NOW Alex had been there when I engineered my first record.
As luck would have it, I had inadvertently caused some distortion on the Cramps record. And Alex wanted remuneration for it. So Ardent gave him a week to fix the problem, which he used to record his record “Feudalist Tarts” (a cute little trick he had learned from his producer, Jim Dickinson) But wait! That’s cheating! No, I guess in Alex’s eyes, it was legit. I mean, Dickinson did it, so why can’t Alex? Jim always avowed that ‘you can’t have music without some element of crime.’
After that, I hadn’t seen Alex until it was time for him to produce a record on Tav Falco, who had just returned from Belgium where he was learning to Tango. That record, “Behind the Magnolia Curtain” was yet another cult fave, and Alex was now an underground super-star.
1968. Alex Chilton came out of the chute at 16 and within a couple of years had made a plane-load of money having his voice heard around the world. When the “Tops” were opening for the Beach Boys on tour, he stayed in drummer Dennis Wilson’s guest house with none other than Chuckie Manson! (Dennis had thought Charles was harmless enough, so Alex figures what the heck?)
After his ginormous success as the vocalist for the Box-Tops, as in The Letter, Soul Deep, Neon Rainbow, Cry Like a Baby, … a rock-pile of smash hits … he met Icewater’s Jody Stephens and Chris Bell (more on Chris soon) and rocket scientist Andy Hummell. Alex and Chris were fairly confident they could make a PowerPop band ala Raspberries, Byrds, Badfinger; PowerPop was music largely influenced by ’60s British Music: Todd Rundgren’s “Runt” LP, Raspberries single “Go All the Way”, Badfinger’s “Baby Blue” and “No Matter What” (a song Paul wrote for the Beatles), Dwight Twilley, Matthew Sweet … that was PowerPop. It’s a long list. And Alex was standing right in the middle of it’s birth. Had it not been for the demise of their distributor, Stax, I’m convinced they would have been the hottest thing since sunburn. “Back of a Car”, “September Gurls”, “Thirteen” … come on. Tell me that isn’t some of the best music you’ve ever heard.
Though Alex could be cantankerous, i.e. kicking his Fender Twin at the famed and packed Antenna Club or slapping my hand away from the e.q. on a mix, I’m convinced that was the inveterate showman he was. Because he really was a great dude. I told him my birthday once around 1976. One day in 1997 at Ardent, he walked up to join me and a friend at 7 card stud, and out of nowhere, he looked up at me , kind of gazing through me, and said “November …(pause) … seventeenth.” Uncanny.
1986. When we started the Replacements “Pleased to Meet Me”, I was listening to their demos-soon-to-be-masters they had recorded the week before, and I thought to myself, “Paul sure sounds like Alex.” Again in 1988, as we heard Tommy Keene’s demos for “Based on Happy Times,” I thought to myself, “Tommy sure sounds like Alex.” Influenced.
Alex made an indelible mark on music. A big one. Anyone who is highly influenced by this art form, call me. I love recording PowerPop. Just ask Gin Blossoms.
R I P Alex. We love you. God loves you. We’ll miss you.
I recently sat down with the legendary and always entertaining producer extraordinaire John Hampton. Hamp is best know for his work with artists like Gin Blossoms, The White Stripes and The Raconteurs; but he’s also been a long time producer and engineer for many Christian label projects as a producer in residence for Ardent Records/Studios. Join us in our conversation as we run the gambit of our A.D.D. minds and talk a little about all things Ardent Records past, present, and future.
He grew up in Memphis—“Home of the Blues” and the “Birthplace of Rock-n-Roll”—but his music sounds more like the Beatles than B.B. King or Elvis.
He writes songs for the church and songs for the radio—yet his songs are often deeper and more complex than either has traditionally allowed.
He lives in a city that is known as much for its racial unrest and inner-city violence as it is the place Elvis called home—yet leads worship at one of the largest multicultural churches in the South, where half the congregation is African-American.
Jeremy Horn is an enigma. But when you meet him, he looks and sounds just like the guy next door—if the guy next door has a traditional southern drawl.
“The best way for me to describe Memphis,” laughs Horn, “is that it's a small town with one million people. I can't go anywhere without seeing someone I know. It's not the cleanest city and it's seen some tough times. But at the same time, there are real people here. There’s a lot of musicians here who are just interested in making music, not being famous.”
Making music is what has preoccupied Horn ever since he was given his first guitar at the age of fifteen. Growing up on the sounds of Tom Petty and The Beatles, Horn spent most of his early years emulating the sounds and songwriting styles of the popular culture. It took him a few years and one wise, older friend to realize there was more to being a songwriter than just sounding like one.
“I thought he was taking me to lunch to talk about getting a record deal,” laughed Horn. “Instead, he wanted to help me meet Jesus.”
“I used to write songs about social injustices in the world. My friend said, ‘Hey man, why don't you try to give people some hope? You have this talent and this skill, but what are you going to do with it? Are you going to try to find something to say, or just write what everybody else is writing?’”
Jeremy Horn is a new artist on Ardent Records. His new album “We Welcome You In” comes out this week. Check out a song from it here, then download the entire album for FREE here.
Let us raise our glasses to a fallen comrade. And ask ourselves did we celebrate this man in life as we do now in death? Ah yes, we embraced our comrade and drew him close to our hearts and minds... as close as he would allow. Sure he touched us literally and he touched us profoundly: as an artist with lyrical intensity, as a person with camaraderie granted and camaraderie rebuffed. Such are the complexities of the artist and of the person. We realize it's not so easy to be friends with an artist, especially a gifted one. His smile often twisted into a leer, even when he was amused by your bonhomie and by your adulation. Be careful of tendencies: OK we’ve created it; now let’s deconstruct it. Godhead on the one hand, destroying angel on the other… Lord help you if you were caught in between. His tones were golden, and he knew that... better than anyone. Was he resentful because he had given so much, and had received less than the key to the temple of abiding good fortune and fame immemorial? Was he content in his rickety 18th cottage on the edge of the French Quarter surrounded by his guitars and aquatints and a cognoscenti of musicians who celebrated him as we do now? Did he draw all that he could take from his talents? Did he quaff draughts of indolence? The answers mean little, and the questions even less. What matters is that those whom he touched, were touched immutably. His legacy is of the mind, of the soul, of earthly pleasure, and of just and lost causes. He left us that redeeming spark of wit and flame to keep us going when were hovering down in the foxhole of doubt and uncertainty and dodging the adverse missives of Lady Luck... comforted in thinking that Alex would have liked that, or he would have appreciated this, or he would have been elated by this or that, or let’s do it the way Alex does it. His opinion, his taste, his love is what matters in the end. The last time I saw Alex was in Paris visiting in his posh suite at Hotel George le Cinq. He was pleased with his rooms, and we stayed up late while he merrily tutored me with the unending music lesson that had been on-going since I met him some twenty-five years before... the lesson that never seemed to quite 'take', and which I understood little better than the first time he drilled me. He would say /Tav, somebody's got to keep the rhythm/. And now I wonder, as the last grain of sand has sped through the hourglass, /who... /will keep the rhythm? Raise our glasses to console the living for the loss of a comrade fallen in the snow, which in its chill and whiteness is purifying, rather than fallen in the desert, which is barren.
TONS OF REVERB: Alex Chilton's Years with the Panther Burns by Ross Johnson
I played drums with Alex in Tav Falco's Panther Burns off and on from 1979 until 1998 (I played my last gig with Alex in '98 in such an intoxicated state that I was too ashamed to contact him again afterward and he was clearly through with me as a drummer after I let him down for the last time at that show in New Orleans).
The Panther Burns were a noisy, irritating insult in early days and Alex delighted in punishing audiences with our blend of demented, tuneless rockabilly, blues and tango. I've said it before in print, but Alex was the only musician in the group who could actually play his instrument for the first year or two of his tenure with the "band." I had never played with a musician of his caliber before and, frankly, I know that I never will again.
Since his death a few days ago I've been reflecting on Alex both musically and personally, and I can't easily separate the two realms. His singular guitar playing style (you heard traces of Lowman Pauling, Reggie Young, Pop Staples, Steve Cropper, Teenie Hodges, and many other masters whenever he strapped on a six string) seemed such a function of his own unique personality and approach to life. As with most great artists, it was impossible to separate the person from the art; they often seemed one and the same with him. Alex always did things his own way whether that approach seemed commercially profitable or personally advisable for him or not. He knew his own mind, you might say. He was many things, Alex was, but a sellout, never.
As to the issue of his personality, well, let's just say that if you displeased him he was very clear and direct in letting you know the full and exact nature of his dissatisfaction with you. I still wince at the memory of the well deserved verbal "corrections" he handed out to me for musical and other shortcomings. Alex could be brutally honest in certain situations and dealing with that direct communication style of his was often difficult.
It was for me, I know that much. He could also be the dearest and most sympathetic of friends too, offering thoughtful and heartfelt advice if it was solicited. His occasional verbal toughness masked a rather fragile, vulnerable core, I thought. I will remember him not as a rock star or as a mythic cult figure or even as one of the world's greatest musicians (although he was most certainly the latter) but rather as a man who was always deeply interested in other people and whose own pain and suffering were transformed by his transcendent musical gift into some of the most universally affecting and haunting music ever made.
There is a lot of nostalgia for the way in which consumers interacted with music in the past. Music writers like Greg Kot and Jim Derogatis are constantly lamenting the death of record store culture on their excellent Sound Opinions radio program. They often discuss the fact that there are fewer and fewer places where kids can walk in and chat with an older more knowledgeable clerk and leave with records they never would have found on their own and go home and be blown away.
This used to fuel the music industry, which is now defined by instant access to nearly everything you’d ever want to listen to without ever leaving your house. As a musician, there is no doubt that this is an invaluable resource that has allowed me to discover hundreds more records that I might not have found just hanging out in stores like Other Music (for the record I do still hang out there and buy things based on the recommendations of their very knowledgeable staff.) But even still, the record companies large and small cannot move as fast as the music bloggers who link us up with lost records by people like Jesse Ed Davis who played guitar with Gene Clark and Taj Mahal, in a matter of minutes at no cost. This is undeniably amazing and I am grateful for it.
For me, what is lost in this process of discovery is the period between when you read about something and when you actually hear it. When someone writes about a piece of music on a prominent music blog like Pitchfork, there is either an audio player or a link that can deliver the music in question immediately, and for me, as much as I enjoy this, it might prevent me from liking things as much as I could were there space for me to process what I’ve read before approaching the record.
When I was a teenager I remember the process going something like this: 1.) Someone older and trustworthy tells you about a band in one form or another; this was often a record store clerk. 2.) Through books, magazines and friends you begin collecting information about the band over a period of time to the point that absolutely have to hear what it sounds like. 3.) You end up in a cool record store and see the album on the shelf you've been thinking about and buy it.
This could all take anywhere from a week to a year, depending on the artist. Between when my Mother’s high school friend’s 30-year-old musician son told me at 17 to listen to Big Star’s 'Third', and when I actually found a copy of it was a year and a half. At 16, I read an article about the Faces and the next day while searching for them in my local record store, a Warner exec happened to be there and had extra promos of the new compilation they had put out in his car. He gave me one for free.
Something happens between the moment when you hear about something and when you actually hear it and in my case, I would develop a fantasy about what the music sounded like based on what I had read. When I heard the actual music, my fantasy of what it sounded like and the music itself would engage in a dialog that heightened the music listening experience. More importantly, this allowed me to write my own music based not only on the records themselves, but what I believed they might sound like. This dialog between my own vision of the music that inspires me, and the vision of the artist who created it is perhaps the most integral force in my aesthetic decisions as a songwriter and musician.
Just as there is a difference between the music composed by hearing something in your head and writing it down and music composed with a synthesizer with which you can hear the arrangement right away, modern technology has changed the way we interact with music and as a result, the way we create it. I don’t know if we can put this paradigm shift in a dichotomy of “good or bad” but I do think that some imagination has been lost with the absence of a period of gestation between hearing the rumble of the train, and then watching it go by. Even if we are disappointed by the drab freight cars that all look the same, without the announcement of its existence, we never would have imagined the magnificent silver stream-line in our minds.
That said, although there maybe fewer kids hanging around record stores hoping to discover "Smile" bootlegs or hearing the Gun Club for the first time, I can say with confidence that record store culture is not dead. Yesterday I spent my afternoon at the listening station of 3 different stores. I listened to some new music that had just come out as well as to some old records I had been searching out for a while. And on a Wednesday afternoon, I was not alone.
Perhaps there will be a difference between musicians who experience the journey from word of mouth to listening station - if for no other reason than the music they are looking for is even too obscure for the internet and perhaps this will have an influence on the future sounds of tomorrow. I'm sure it will fit nicely along side the aesthetic choices of those who are listening to anything and everything all at once on shuffle on their ipods.
Enter to win Jump Back Jake's 'Brooklyn Hustle / Memphis Muscle' on vinyl by telling us your favorite 'process of musical discovery' story in the comments to this post. Please remember to leave a contact email address. The winner will be notified next Monday, 4/5/2010.
When I was 19 and a freshman at Wesleyan University in Middletown, CT, I heard a record by Big Star known as "3rd" or "Sister Lovers." Memphis may as well have been in another country, and Memphis in the 70s seemed to only exist as a mythic place in my mind.
At first, the music sounded like secret messages coming from a distant radio frequency in the middle of the night, and then it got closer and closer until it began to do what any great record can do and define my day to day reality. Back then, I could not have known that 8 years later I'd be recording in the same rooms where Big Star recorded and signing a contract with John Fry, engineer on all three Big Star albums, to release a full length lp on Big Star's label, Ardent.
I met John Fry in the summer of 2004 when I was conducting archival interviews for the Stax Museum of American Soul music in Memphis. I went and sat in the studio A lounge while he recounted stories of early home studios, Dewey Phillips groundbreaking radio show "Red, Hot and Blue," the heyday of Stax Records, and the birth of one of my all time my favorite bands, Big Star.
He described the way Steve Cropper mixed Sam and Dave's 'Soul Man' and how he had to signal to Isaac Hayes when the tape was running out on some of the long takes that eventually made up the "Hot Buttered Soul' Sessions. That day I got to listen to stories from a man that has not only run an amazing recording facility for 40 years, but someone who had a hand in some of the most important cultural contributions of the 20th century. But I also felt I was talking to a man who had very forward thinking about the future of an industry in trouble. It was for this reason that I felt confident about working with him as a label president.
So when I was asked recently to sit down and conduct another interview with John Fry, I didn't hesitate. I am thrilled to share this interview that covers everything from the drum sounds on an obscure early Ardent records single to the tumultuous and ling standing relationship between Rock and Roll and Christianity.
