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In the early '70s, four youngsters from Memphis, the birthplace of rock and soul, put together a pop band (of all things) and proceeded to make music that merged the architectural splendor of the original Byrds with the charged mystery of Revolver-era Beatles, adding to this rich brew an element of anxiety that gave it a dark undercurrent not usually associated with guitar-pop music. The fact that Big Star was criminally overlooked during its brief existence and remained so for the vast majority of music fans in the succeeding years only served to render its allure that much more irresistible for subsequent generations of musicians, who turned each other on to this music as if it were some secret religion or a new drug.
And now, three decades later, the improbable has happened. The difference between this Big Star record and previous records is that this time we know people will at least hear it, says co-founder and drummer Jody Stephens about In Space (released on Rykodisc Sept. 27), the storied band's first all-new album since Big Star's Third a.k.a. Sister Lovers was recorded in 1975. The revitalized Big Star original members Alex Chilton and Stephens plus Posies mainstays Jon Auer and Ken Stringfellow, who are now full-fledged bandmembers have laid down a dozen newly written songs at Memphis's Ardent Studios, where the group cut the hugely influential albums ..1 Record (1972) Radio City (1974) and Third/Sister Lovers (1978). The fact that single-minded Big Star auteur Alex Chilton chose to initiate the project after all these years renders the situation that much more intriguing.
"It does say a lot that he'd even be willing to do it," says Auer, apparently still not quite believing it himself. "And I think he actually enjoyed himself. It's one thing to play a show together once in a while, but it's another thing entirely to make a record that you want people to hear. It's not something you could do well and be half-assed about it."
The tracks were cut in two blocks of time of about a week and a half apiece, after which Chilton dismissed his cohorts and mixed the album with co-producer/engineer Jeff Powell. "At the end of the day, Alex was at the helm," Stephens points out. "Decisions were made by the band as a whole, but Alex was guiding the sessions. His contribution was major, and he was the leader in setting the tone. He had a particular way of wanting to do the record, and that was to be spontaneous, with no laboring over parts."
That wasn't how the original records were made, according to Stephens. "With ..1 Record, those were developed songs before we went in, and although I don't remember rehearsing the songs for Radio City, I think the songs were there. And then the third album, who knows? I couldn't even tell you," he says with a rueful laugh.
In Space is free of the irony Big Star cultists might have expected from the mercurial Chilton. Instead, it comes across as a genuine attempt on Chilton's part to make an album that draws on the interaction among this collection of musicians, working in the formal mode dictated by the Big Star name while nimbly sidestepping the band's mythic legacy, which would have inevitably derailed the project had it been met head-on. What results is an extremely satisfying record from a group of gifted players who have fashioned themselves into a cohesive and formidable musical unit. That is the most that could reasonably be expected of them, and that is precisely what they've accomplished.
"I keep thinking I'm not worthy' kind of thoughts, putting myself in the lineage of the band that made three of my favorite records of all time and many other people's as well," Stringfellow acknowledges. "But skills matter, and I think Jon and I have skills that are relevant to making a Big Star record, and we've also acquired some skills in working with Alex on his terms, because I think they're interesting conditions to work under."
These conditions, according to Stringfellow, involved "simplicity in recording, still utilizing the studio but fairly true to a four-piece band. That became evident to me as we went along. So everything that was studio-only, that could not be duplicated live, with the exception of a few stacks of vocal harmonies that I did, he just ix-nayed right then and there. I have my owned tendencies, but it was interesting to have somebody put a different set of parameters on it and to see what that stimulated amongst the four of us and in myself. So I found it refreshing to do something different."
"Working with Jon, Ken and Alex, it was always amazing to me what parts they would come up with, and how guitar arrangements happened on the fly," Stephens marvels. "It just blew my mind how they created and edited as they went along. It was just fascinating to watch it all go down. Alex just has this great set of ears when it comes to how songs get put together. He always had a quick opinion."
"In terms of fixing what I perceived as mistakes, I wanted to do something more meticulous and corrected, and Alex wasn't having any of that," says Stringfellow. "Often, in the first couple of takes was the take, and I was deeply impressed by the fact that Alex always heard things before the rest of us did. And whereas musicians tend to want to put themselves in the most favorable light and create a finished product,' music is also performance, and Alex is way into that."
Typically, Auer, Stringfellow and Chilton would run through a song three or four times until they had something tangible, at which point Stephens would slide behind his drum kit, Powell would immediately press Record, and they'd be off. This was seat-of-the-pants record making at its most immediate, and it takes an extremely skilled, coordinated band to pull off such an approach.
The time between conception and execution was telescoped during the freewheeling sessions. "One night I took my dog, Clancy, for a walk, and I just started writing a song in my head," Stephens remembers. "The lyrics and the melody came to me, and it turned out to be February's Quiet.' The whole song came except for the bridge, so I sang it to Jon the next morning, and he came up with the bridge and the chords for the song, and we recorded it that afternoon."
The band had selected a later take of "Do You Wanna Make It" from the five they'd laid down, but after going over the tapes, Chilton urged his bandmates to listen again to take two, which had some mistakes. Says Stringfellow, "Alex's decisions seem arbitrary sometimes, but I've found there's always a reason, and in this case, because we were all working on it, we were allowed to know the reason. He said, This take may be a little more naked than the other one, but check it out.' And I have to say, I totally agree. And when you hear me not going to the right chord on the bass, who cares? It sounds cool. He pointed out things like that on a number of occasions, and he was always right. That's not the way records are made these days, and I have to give him a lot of credit for going for a kind of trueness."
Chilton's distinctive guitar style and Stephens' idiosyncratic drumming form the core of Big Star's sound, and both are ever-present on In Space; aficionados of the band will recognize it immediately.
"Alex's character totally comes through on this record," Auer says of Chilton's guitar work. "He's really into spontaneity. At first I wondered if he just didn't want to labor over it, but when you hear it mixed in with everything else, you understand what he's going for, which is a kind of visceral, primitive vibe, along with the cool notes and chords 'cause he picks great notes and certainly knows his stuff when it comes to progressions. And Jody puts fills in really unique places. It really does come off as his style an almost melodic delivery that's really impressive. For me, that's an integral part of the sound."
"I learned quickly to play confidently because the band as a whole liked to get it fresh," Stephens explains. "There were times when I would miss a change from one part of a song to the next, and it's the correction after missing the change that is interesting. It harkens back to being a fan of drummers who played with a lot of character, and playing within my limits. The drummers I like Ringo, Charlie Watts, Al Jackson, John Bonham, B.J. Wilson from Procol Harum, Keith Moon all had their own way of feeling their way through a song. That's what I'm always shooting for."
How did this surprising turn of events come about? Not even the principals know for sure. What they can agree on is that the key was Chilton's willingness to give it a shot. "We were on stage in London back in 2001, and Alex said, These guys don't know it yet, but we're gonna be making a new record,'" says Stephens, recalling Chilton's surprising announcement (especially to his three cohorts) that they would indeed undertake a Big Star studio album, after the band's erstwhile leader had vehemently rejected the idea whenever it had been proposed. "Nothing more was said for a year, but I thought, when it happens, it happens."
As Auer recalls, "The earliest seed of possibility occurred when we played a show in conjunction with the opening of the Stax Museum in Memphis. Ken and I suggested that we learn some different songs from the back catalog of Big Star since we'd been playing basically the same set since 1993. Alex said something to the effect of, I really enjoy playing with you, and instead of going back and doing old stuff, I'd seriously consider doing something new with you guys.'"
Stephens picks up the thread: "Then, two years ago, we talked about doing another record and how we would like to make it. And it was decided that the way we would like to make the record was first, to find a label that was willing to let us be the sole decision makers about what went on in the studio, and second, to write and record in the studio."
Rykodisc, which in 1992 released Third/Sister Lovers, Big Star Live and I Am the Cosmos, the solo album from the late Chris Bell, agreed to the band's terms, and In Space is the surprising result.
"Having Jon and I involved may be stretching the definition of Big Star beyond most people's limits," Stringfellow acknowledges. "But Alex has made it clear over the years that he really respects Jon and I for approaching it the way that we have, and for being who we are with it. The four of us have been playing music together for 12 years now, and that was something Alex was very interested in documenting. Compliment taken. I'd never met Alex before we rehearsed together the first time [before the Columbia show in April 1993], and although I feel like we did a good job from the word go, we have a chemistry now, and a mutual respect, that we didn't have then." You can hear the chemistry generated by the four members of Big Star throughout this daring and immensely appealing album.
"It's amazing to me that nothing got on the record that we all didn't agree was worth putting on there that we weren't all into," says Auer. "It was collaborative as anything I've ever been involved in. And it must be a testament to the way we all interact with each other, because we all had a really good time. It's a miracle that it even got made at all. And here it is. I just hope people will take this as not trying to compete with history and just take it as Big Star 2005."
As you've undoubtedly noticed, Chilton isn't directly represented in this bio. "Alex's vow of silence is part of his legend," says Stringfellow with a laugh. "And it continues." This ever-enigmatic, deeply iconoclastic artist clearly isn't interested in talking about his music, particularly in regard to Big Star, but the fact that he's so interested in making music with his three longtime cohorts is more than enough reason to rejoice.
(Official Bio courtesy of Rykodisc)
