Yesterday, Alex Chilton (the primary singer/songwriter behind Big Star) died of a heart attack while mowing his lawn, just a few short days before he was to perform at SXSW with the two other remaining original members of Big Star (Chris Bell was killed in a car wreck in 1978) for the first time in something like 35 years.
When I read the news last night, I felt my chest tighten and my jaw drop. It hurt. I’m not sure I’ve ever been so viscerally upset about a “celebrity’s” death before. I told my girlfriend, and she said, “it’s not as if he was a friend of yours,” but in a way it hurts just as bad. I know that probably sounds a little hyperbolic/melodramatic to some of you, and even if I tried to explain it, it still would, so I’m not going to. He was just one of those people who I felt better knowing was still around, even if I didn’t listen to much of his post-Big Star output.
I could go on and on about how great Big Star were, how they influenced almost every worthwhile band that came after them, and how much those three records mean to me, but I won’t. I’ll just leave you with a few songs.
You’ll be missed, Alex.
i’m in shock. i didn’t know until just now. i feel really dizzy and sad.
“invisible man who can sing in a visible voice
i’m in love, what’s that song? i’m in love- with that song”