Of the tropes that are part of the scene for any art form—and rock and roll is no exception—perhaps the most familiar is the tortured/overlooked/misunderstood genius. Alex Chilton undeniably fits the profile, an artist ahead of his time, a trailblazer and influencer who could also be volatile and self-destructive. Only adding to the mystique is the fact that his recorded output in his prime, while hugely influential, was modest in scope.
The first Big Star album #1 Record was a band album that found former Box-Tops lead singer Chilton (guitar and vocals) joining the group’s founding members Chris Bell (guitar and vocals), Andy Hummel (bass and vocals) and Jody Stephens (drums). In this initial four-man configuration, Bell and Chilton shared the main writing duties and alternated on lead vocals. However, the headstrong Chilton had been the last to join what had been essentially Bell’s band, and there was immediate tension between the two, resolved only when Bell departed soon after that remarkable first album, leaving the band in limbo.
With Big Star inactive, Chilton recorded three songs with an alternate rhythm section (Danny Jones on bass and Richard Rosebrough on drums) before a single now-legendary reunion gig with Hummel and Stephens convinced the trio to reform and record the rest of the album that would become Radio City.
While Bell’s shimmery folk-rock influence is missed, the remaining group’s musical flavoring was in a sense more concentrated than ever: jangly, hook-happy British-Invasion-derived rock and roll paired with downbeat, introspective lyrics, a distinctive form that would come to be known as power pop. Bands from R.E.M. and The Replacements to Teenage Fanclub and Gin Blossoms would emulate and elaborate on this musical style in the decades to come, but Big Star and similarly Beatles-infatuated contemporaries like Badfinger and the Raspberries are generally regarded as the points of origin for power pop.
Opener and first single “Oh, My Soul”—one of the tunes Bell is thought to have contributed to before departing—comes off like the raucous celebration of a nervous breakdown. The music is bouncy and riffy and catchy as Chilton sings about falling apart; in other words, the very essence of power pop.
Next up, “Life Is White” comes off both upbeat and mournful, with harmonica inevitably striking a plaintive note. There’s a sense of defeat in Chilton’s words, and it’s hard to miss an echo of Robin Wilson in his melancholy vocals—another of the weird inversions that a going-backwards power-pop fan encounters as you come to realize just how much Gin Blossoms were influenced by Big Star. “Way Out West”—bassist Andy Hummel’s sole composition and lead vocal—is similarly bright-yet-mournful, conveying a strong undercurrent of disillusion.
Another distinctive thing about this album—and power pop in general—is the length of the songs. With the exception of the album version of “Oh, My Soul” (cut almost in half for its single edit), these songs are short and sweet and to the point, pulling off the magic trick of feeling loose and full of attitude while existing within a tightly crafted compositional structure.
“What’s Going Ahn?” again features bright, jangly guitars—both acoustic and electric—paired with mopey lyrics, finishing with flair as Chilton executes a brief, tricksy double-tracked call-and-answer vocal segment that you’ve heard nods to on a hundred power-pop tracks since. Then “You Get What You Deserve” turns up the aggression factor with muscular guitars. The title suggests Chilton is heaping scorn on a departed ex, but the hazy lyrics eventually bring you to realize he’s talking to himself, saying, in essence, “I got what I deserved”—another self-critical power-pop trope. The track wraps with a tight, careening guitar solo that manages to feel both reckless and carefully calibrated.
Big Star is often positioned as an almost-direct descendent of The Beatles, but the swaggering “Mod Lang” is distinctly Rolling Stones in its vibe: loose, loud, greasy and dripping with attitude (Keith would approve). Next up, Chris Bell is again said to have had an uncredited hand in “Back Of A Car,” whose rich jangle locates the optimal balance point between the sunny instruments and the downcast lyric, about hiding out from heartbreak inside the music. At just 2:46, it’s another exceptionally concise little masterpiece.
One of the things Big Star does so well on this album is to maximize the sonic variety available from two guitars (all played by Chilton), bass and drums. On “Daisy Glaze” the guitars nearly chime like bells, and then halfway through the song transforms, bumping up the tempo and evolving the guitar sound before it wraps up with a jam that’s as close to exuberant as Big Star ever gets. “She’s A Mover” then executes a sonic one-eighty, a chunky, Who-style rocker with some crunch to it.
Second single—and most universally lauded track here—“September Gurls” is a prototypical power-pop tune with those burnished, Byrds-ian guitars offset by yearning vocals. Even the concise closing solo smacks of Roger McGuinn; two bars and the song is over in just 2:47. It’s followed by the oddest number here; “Morpha Too” is a depressive, shambolic piano ballad of just 1:28 that sounds like Chilton raising a white flag deep in the night. As with “Morpha,” closer “I’m In Love With A Girl” sounds like just Chilton, here on guitar, delivering a lyric expressing his astonishment at falling in love, his plaintive wail a perfect summation of the power-pop ethos: I’m a loser and nothing could ever possibly go right for me… but check out this killer hook.
Desperation saturates every line of Radio City; it’s an album made by a band that’s gone over a cliff, only to find itself still clinging to a ledge, a brief reprieve before that inevitable final fall. In the contrast of bright, riffy, attitude-rich music with fatalistic lyrics, Big Star offered up the essential building blocks of a new genre; power-pop would grow and evolve, of course, but for a remarkable number of artists who followed, their musical story started here, with #1 Record and its even more frantic, messy, and matchless successor Radio City.