I walked out of my class tonight into an Alex Chilton-less world and though I hadn’t thought of him in a while, I still felt a keen sense of loss. He was just one of those musicians who you knew wrote music with such brilliance but you always assumed they’d be around. I was introduced to Big Star too late, and they easily rated as one of my favorite bands to enjoy, regardless of time, place or mood. They had several of those songs that I instantly fell in love with and liked even more when I found out they were B’s personal favorites as well.
Their music was one of those things we instinctively agreed upon, despite the fact that he loved metal and I refused to let go of Weezer, and that only added to my belief that we were meant to be together. We made sure to include them on our playlist for the wedding reception, even if the songs were too low or soft to be heard over a crowd of conversations and eating. But it didn’t matter, because the songs were special to both of us. Most of the time, we’d sing along in the car or in the bathroom, making up silly replacement lyrics that made no sense. His songs made me pick up the guitar again, as if playing the notes would somehow be the easiest thing in the world for someone who gave up lessons after learning about bar chords. Of course, I put the guitar away just as fast, after realizing that finger picking the strings was harder than I thought. Fast or slow, Alex Chilton’s songwriting meant something more than what most of today’s artists can boast.
Rest in peace. You will be missed but we’ll keep your music alive, even if it’s just me in my car, butchering your beautiful lyrics.
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