by Roni Sarig
Tony Goddess, Papas Fritas:
Radio City is one of my all-time favorite records. Alex Chilton shaped my ideas a lot. I read a quote from [producer] John Fry about how they got a couple guitars together to use in an orchestral way. And it got me thinking. On Radio City there’s so many guitars, but it’s never like a wall of guitars. There’s one percolating, one strumming. Also, I was a huge Replacements fan and when I finally got Big Star records I was like, “Oh, there it is. That’s the whole thing right there.”
Big Star’s problems, though, were deeper than just being out of step. While they received terrific reviews and even got some radio play, they had terrible luck with record companies that always seemed to be in a state of transition, or bankruptcy, when it came time to promote and distribute their records. Radio City, like #1 Record before it, got lost in the shuffle. Fed up that artistic acclaim was not leading to commercial success, Andy Hummel quit the band and went back to school, leaving only Chilton and Stephens from the original Big Star.
Nevertheless, the remnants of the group went ahead with a third album in 1975. Though Stephens played drums, wrote one of the songs, and was responsible for introducing string arrangements to the band’s sound, for the most part the record turned out to be an Alex Chilton solo project (with help from new producer Jim Dickinson). Attempts were made to produce a richer, more orchestrated sound, with the addition of back-up singers and strings. But Chilton, disappointed by his lack of success, had reached a low point personally, which is reflected in the dark, subdued feel of songs like Holocaust and Big Black Car.
Matthew Sweet:
Big Star just sounded so great to me it was my total inspiration. With all my teenage emotions I could really get into Big Black Car, feeling really morbid. I don’t know if I ever tried to do stuff like Big Star in the way bands that are obsessed with them do – like the way Teenage Fanclub would do something that was so Big Star – but I was really influenced by Alex Chilton’s writing, the way anything goes, even though it’s really melodic and poppy.
Ardent Records folded before the album called Third and/or Sister Lovers (because Stephens and Chilton had been dating twins) was completed, and the record was not released until three years later (and then only in the U.K.). Once the record was complete, Stephens quit and Big Star ended. As such, Third serves both as an appropriate end to a troubled band and as a telling prelude to a moody, uneven Alex Chilton solo career.
Dean Wareham, Luna:
It’s amazing that Big Star didn’t become famous. I discovered them around the time Galaxie 500 [Wareham’s first band] was forming. Those records are beautifully produced. I know they’re an influence on a lot of people, but I don’t think anyone has really come close to the haunting qualities of their Third record. People have emulated their production, but not gotten the “scraping the bottom of the barrel” feeling of that record.
After leaving Big Star, Chris Bell struggled through depression to launch a solo career. Though he made a solo record in 1976, it went unreleased for decades (I Am the Cosmos was eventually issued in 1992). Tragically, Bell died in a 1978 car crash, never having achieved the stardom and recognition he deserved.
Alex Chilton moved back to New York and in 1977 made an EP, then a couple of inspired but uneven solo albums (Like Flies on Sherbet, Bach’s Bottom) into the early ‘80s. By then, Big Star’s legend had grown, and Chilton became a popular draw in New York rock clubs. Though he’d resurface over the years as the producer of early Cramps records, or to release a sloppy EP (often full of cover songs), for the most part Chilton has continued in a no-man’s land between cult hero and has-been. He made an art out of lazy, underachiever music, and became a hero to bands like the Replacements (who recorded a song called “Alex Chilton” in Ardent Studios) and other “slacker” bands. Though he returned, along with the Ardent label, in the early ‘90s to make new records with occasional moments of brilliance, he remained bitter and enigmatic, an oft-cited example of wasted talent in rock. Recently, Chilton was back on the road with his first (and most successful) band, the Box Tops.
While Andy Hummel became an engineer for General Dynamics, Stephens continued drumming with Chris Bell and other local musicians before going back to school for a degree in marketing. In 1987 he was hired by Ardent Studios and, as projects manager, oversaw Alex Chilton’s recent solo records. Stephens also plays with Golden Smog, a side band for members of the Jayhawks, Soul Asylum, and Wilco.
Gary Louris, Jayhawks:
When I grew up I wanted to be in Big Star, not Buffalo Springfield. My roots are in bands like Big Star, and I think we have something in common with them in that they were a little bit out of step with the times. On his solo record, Chris Bell – someone very influential who was never recognized in his time – sounds like somebody who’s frustrated, who can’t understand why he isn’t understood musically.
In 1993, Chilton and Stephens re-formed Big Star, with the help of Jon Auer and Ken Stringfellow of the Posies. A reunion concert (released as a live album) and short tour followed, though there are no plans to continue the band.
DISCOGRAPHY
#1 Record / Radio City (Ardent, 1972/1974; Stax / Fantasy, 1992); the reissue of Big Star’s first two albums is the classic document of the band at the peak of its powers, especially on #1 Record, which features Bell.
Third / Sister Lovers (Ardent, 1978; Rykodisc, 1992); dark and pain-ridden, the band’s final record (reissued with bonus tracks) was essentially an Alex Chilton solo project, and certainly his finest at that.
Big Star Live (Rykodisc, 1992); taken from a 1974 radio broadcast, the live set includes Chilton solo and acoustic, as well as full band performances and an interview.
Columbia: Live at Missouri University (Zoo, 1993); featuring members of the Pixies along with Chilton and Stephens, this Big Star reunion show was historic but adds little to the band’s legend.
TRIBUTE: Big Star Small World (Ardent, 1998); a collection of Big Star covers, done by Juliana Hatfield, Whiskeytown, Afghan Whigs, Teenage Fanclub, Gin Blossoms, and Matthew Sweet, plus a new track by a reformed Big Star.
YOUNG MARBLE GIANTS
Lou Barlow, Sebadoh / Folk Implosion:
One of the things that really shaped the way I structure my own music was Young Marble Giants. I heard them around 1979 or ‘80, when I first discovered punk rock. I guess you’d call the record low-fi, but the Young Marble Giants in particular was so sparse. They used that cheesy percussion of old organs, and this cool, edgy, clipped guitar sound, with beautiful female vocals soaring overtop. But the songs were really short and compact. From the first time I heard them it just absolutely made sense to me. It sounded like this perfect music in a small scale.
They were a small band with a small sound. And having existed for only three years – with only a single album to show for it – the Young Marble Giants barely registered a blip on the screen of pop music history. Somehow, though, they cast reverberations that are still heard today – in the simplicity of indie pop bands like Beat Happening, the evocative synths of Magnetic Fields, the beat minimalism of Luscious Jackson, and the spare folk of Frente! and Billy Bragg.
The Young Marble Giants formed in 1978, just as Britain’s indie punk movement had spread across the U.K. and reached their remote hometown of Cardiff, Wales. Empowered by the “do-it-yourself” ideas of post-punkers like Swell Maps and Desperate Bicycles, the trio of two brothers and their female friend helped put together a local music compilation, Is the War over Yet?, which featured two of their songs. One listen to the curvy melody of the Young Marble Giants’ Searching for Mr. Right, though, and it was clear: They may have been D-I-Y, but they were closer to pop than punk. While they were miles away from the Bee Gees or anything else on the pop charts in 1979, they somehow possessed all the essential elements of pop: a steady and simple rhythm, a pure and beautiful melody. And like all the best pop, the Young Marble Giants’ music was easy to understand, right away. The elements were clearly defin
ed and stripped to their bare essentials: Stuart Moxham’s muted guitar stabs or warbly organ, Philip Moxham’s tuneful bass, Alison Station’s lilting voice, and, at times, a pulsating electronic beat.
Tracy Thorn, Everything but the Girl:
[The Marine Girls, Thorn’s first band] didn’t know anyone who could play drums... so we decided to take our cue from the young Marble Giants and play minimalist quiet music. Colossal Youth was our favorite record. [from EBTG website]
Colossal Youth, the group’s 1980 debut, sounded like nothing else before it. A hushed, ghostly shell of a record on the surface, it proved surprisingly deep on closer inspection. While remaining coolly restrained and consistent, the album covered a wide enough range that no songs sounded the same: from playful and fluid (Colossal Youth) to intense and abrupt (Include Me out), and from melancholic (Salad Days) to menacing (Credit in the Straight World, which was later covered by Hole). All 15 songs (written mostly by Stuart) are memorable, though none conformed in any way to accepted formulas.
Dean Wareham, Luna:
We used to do Final Day in Galaxie 500 [Wareham’& first band]. Colossal Youth is a unique and special record, and there’s never been anything like it. The sounds, the instrumentation. It was really spare and quiet, but really powerful. Being in a trio, it showed you could get away with sparseness.
Colossal Youth was not to have a follow-up. The Giants made the U.K.’s indie charts in 1981 with an instrumental EP called Testcard, but amicably disbanded that year, before another record was ever produced. Following the Giants’ break-up, Stuart and Philip Moxham formed the Gist, which released one album in 1983. Sporadically, Stuart also produced bands such as Beat Happening and the Marine Girls (which featured Tracey Thorn of Everything but the Girl). For most of the ‘80s, though, Stuart worked as an animator, contributing to films including Who Killed Roger Rabbit? In the ‘90s, Stuart, Philip, and a third Moxham brother formed the Original Artists and released three albums (the first containing Stuart’s duet with Alison of the Giants). A 1995 Stuart Moxham solo album featured acoustic guitar versions of older material, including some from Colossal Youth.
Alison Station continued singing, first with loungy jazz poppers and exotica revivalists Weekend, then as half of Devine & Station. In the ‘90s, she reunited with Weekend guitarist Spike as Alison Station & Spike, and released three albums in Japan. The duo’s final live recording featured Stuart and Philip in what essentially was a Young Marble Giants reunion.
DISCOGRAPHY
Colossal Youth (Rough Trade, 1980; Crepuscule, 1994); the astounding first album, reissued with the instrumental EP and two other non-album songs.
Testcard EP (Rough Trade, 1981); originally an instrumental 7-inch, this record has been tacked onto the reissue of Colossal Youth.
The Peel Sessions EP (Strange Fruit, 1988).
BEAT HAPPENING
Doug Martsch, Built to Spill / Halo Benders:
I like Calvin’s outlook about music and life, he’s sort of a righteous person. He’s made up his mind about things he feels strongly about, even though it’s sometimes difficult. To me, it’s an affirming thing, like, “This is cool what we’re doing. It’s special, important.” And to be around people who actually realize that and make it that way is important.
Before Seattle was known for grunge, and before female bands from the Northwest were labeled riot grrrl, Calvin Johnson was doing his own thing up in Washington state. In fact, the example and support of Calvin’s label K Records helped encourage the formation of a self-sufficient punk feminist movement. And though Beat Happening’s skeletal ditties had little in common with Nirvana’s metallic roar, Kurt Cobain felt sufficiently inspired by Johnson’s do-it-yourself ethic to have the K Records logo tattooed on his body. From a home base in Olympia, the college town / state capitol 50 miles south of Seattle, Johnson did as much as anyone to ignite a regional music scene that would become the most recognized of the ‘90s.
The influence of Calvin, Beat Happening, and K, however, is not limited to the Northwest. Combining the childlike innocence of Jonathan Richman with the unschooled roughness of Half Japanese, Beat Happening is the progenitor of a style-known variously as cuddle-core, tin-can pop, or love-rock – that’s been adopted to varying degrees by everyone from L.A.’s That Dog to Louisville’s King Kong, and from D.C.’s Tsunami to Chicago’s Veruca Salt. In defining an indie-pop aesthetic that incorporates humor and melody with punk’s willful obscurity – and by forming alliances with like-minded acts such as Australia’s Cannanes, Japan’s Shonen Knife, and Scotland’s Vaselines – Beat Happening has landed at the heart of a worldwide network of subterranean music, dubbed (by Calvin) the International Pop Underground.
In the early ‘80s, Johnson got involved with Olympia’s community radio station KAOS and a related music zine called Op, which introduced him to the then-radical concept of independent music as an alternative to the entertainment/culture fed by major corporations. Soon he began collaborating with fellow DJ Bruce Pavitt on a new zine dedicated to the Northwest’s underground music scene called Subterranean Pop, which Pavitt later abbreviated to Sub Pop (their slogan – “We’re here to de-centralize pop culture”) and turned into the famed Seattle record label. Sub Pop began covering the local scene by releasing not only conventional fanzines but also “cassette” zines, compilation tapes that allowed readers to hear the music they’d been reading about.
Carrie Brownstein, Sleater-Kinney:
The first time I heard Beat Happening, I was just blown away. I was still in high school and I went to their show. It was the first time I saw a woman playing guitar up close. I would go to punk shows all the time, but I never really saw women. And they brought this kind of sexiness back to rock music. In terms of performance, it wasn’t about this kind of tense maleness. It was really fluid, feeling the music in a way that wasn’t about all this angst. In Olympia, and in general, they were really an important band.
“There was the general idea of taking control of the media,” Johnson remembers of the indie/punk scene at the time. “Put on your own shows, make up your own songs, do your own radio show, make your own magazines, start your own label, start your own club, those are all basically the same idea.” Greatly aiding their crusade were the two unsung heroes of indie culture: the cassette tape and the photocopier, which by the early ‘80s had become sufficiently high-quality, inexpensive, and easy to find that they presented a feasible way of producing and distributing music. “Cassette culture in the early ‘80s was oriented toward experimental and industrial music, not to rock music or underground pop,” Johnson recalls. “But cassettes provided an accessibility that just didn’t exist before. It was obvious to us.”
Branching out from Sub Pop in 1982, Calvin formed his K label and began releasing cassettes of mostly a cappella and folk music that stood in sharp contrast to the strictly defined hardcore that began to dominate the indie world. At the same time Calvin began playing in bands, first with the Cool Rays and 003 Legion, then with two friends as Laura, Heather and Calvin. When Laura dropped out of this last group, Calvin and Heather Lewis, whom he’d met at Olympia’s Evergreen State College, recruited Bret Lunsford and Beat Happening was born. In an Olympia tradition that continues today with groups such as Sleater-Kinney, Beat Happening had no bassist. Instead, the trio featured a singer, drummer, and guitarist; because none of them was particularly proficient at any one role, they alternated instruments and vocals between them from song to song.
With the Wipers’ Greg Sage producing, Beat Happening recorded and released two five-song cassettes in ‘83 and ‘84 (later collected on the Beat Happening and 1983-85 compilations). The music was spare and sloppy, and the singing – Calvin’s froggy baritone and Heather’s artless lilt – was often flat. There was plenty of low-fi production and punk attitude, but Beat Happening still had an innocence and melodicism in songs like What’s Important and I Spy that identified the group as pop. Beat Happening’s affinity for Cramps-style root
sy rock was clear, as was the group’s love for Jonathan Richman’s kiddy songs. Their colorful album covers, featuring stick figure drawings and hand-written liner notes, reinforced the warmth and charm of the music.
Jenny Teemey, Tsunami / Licorice:
People talk about them as the mothers and fathers of this sort of “shamble pop” style, which is like two chords, same melody over and over, lots of easy rhymes. And there’s a million bands that started making music like that because they were inspired by Beat Happening. I think were inspired by Beat Happening in the beginning – like Ski Trip or Candy Man random songs that used lots of objects, written really fast, and we also tried to have a dark side.
K continued to release compilations such as Let’s Together, Let’s Kiss, and Let’s Sea, which featured regional bands such as the Fastbacks, Mecca Normal, and the Melvins, as well as similarly-minded groups from around the world that Beat Happening befriended through the mail and while touring. The group also continued to record somewhat sporadically throughout the late ‘80s. A debut album in 1985 collected more recordings with Sage, and a 1988 EP grouped Beat Happening with their friends Screaming Trees for a four-song collaboration in the spirit of the Black Flag / Minutemen record, Minute Flag.
