Big Star, Cover Songs, and Pop Music To Make You Feel Alive

by Jasmine Odessa Rizer

I keep thinking that one of these days I'm going to sit down and write a big, fat, comprehensive piece called "Why I Love Pop Music," in which I defend my love of ear candy against the classical-music snobs of the world. But if I were to do that, I would need to talk a lot about John Sebastian, and I think that for the time being, I've pretty well exhausted my readers' patience with my Sebastian fixation, so "Why I Love Pop Music" will have to wait.

Besides, I've been blindsided by my love for Big Star.

As a high school record geek, all I knew about Big Star was that This Mortal Coil did lovely and melodramatic covers of a couple of Big Star songs on It'll End In Tears, and that Magnapop did a simply angelic cover of "Thirteen."

Then, the summer after my freshman year at college, I was having a terrible time living with hard drinkers who found my timid, (then) straight-edge ways pretty amusing. In my attempt to relieve the pain of my day-to-day existence, I would go downtown nearly every day and visit the illustrious used record store there. One day I came home with a copy of Big Star's third album, known variously as Third, Beale Street Green, Sister Lovers, The Third Album, and Femme Fatale. Whew!

Third, as I will be calling it, is sometimes criticized as not a very great album, and I'll admit it's spotty, but it certainly provided a little prettiness and light in what was otherwise a very grim summer. At this point, bassist Andy Hummel had handed in his notice, to be replaced by John Lightman. Founding member Chris Bell was also long gone. I don't know anything about the mental state of drummer Jody Stephens at the time, but Big Star frontman Alex Chilton was reportedly angry and miserable during the recording of Third, and if you could put a nervous breakdown on tape, it would almost certainly sound a lot like this album. Still, Big Star's cover of the Velvet Underground's "Femme Fatale" eclipses the original, and "Kanga-Roo" is either an almost-sexy love song filled with awkwardness and incoherent adoration, or a chilling distillation of gall and anguish over love gone wrong--I can't decide which. Either way, the sound of Chilton quavering, "Oh, I want you / Like a kangaroo-oo-oo," over the shuddering and wistful guitars is utterly haunting.

What most people like better than Third, and what I have recently been almost physically unable to stop listening to, is the first pair of albums by Big Star--#1 Record and Radio City.

I don't really think of these two albums in terms of songs. The sweetness and the surliness simply wash over me when I listen to them, and fragments of the albums resurface, shimmering, in my head later on, causing me to sing, "I've been trying hard against unbelievable odds," as I get dressed to go out, or, "December Boy's got it bad," in the kitchen while I make lemonade.

Overall, I prefer #1 Record, which is a little more hearts-n-flowers than Radio City, perhaps because founding member Chris Bell was still on board for #1 Record. (For a jaw-droppingly pretty cover of Bell's "You and Your Sister," please consult This Mortal Coil's third, and possibly best, album, Blood.) From the hip-shaking exuberance of "When My Baby's Beside Me" to the quavering contrition of "Give Me Another Chance," this is the kind of record that gets you through the day.

People say that Chris Bell's influence can still be felt on Radio City, but I, for one, can definitely feel his absence, too. The songs are louder and less wistful. I'm not complaining, though.

Because I am a sap, my favorite moments on Radio City are its big dopey love songs, "September Gurls" and "I'm In Love With A Girl." I don't know whether Chilton was being sarcastic or serious with these lovesick ditties, but I choose to accept their sunshiny melodies and doting, melancholy lyrics at face value, because it Makes Me Feel Good.

Even though I've put off my intended "Why I Love Pop Music" column for another time, Big Star's three studio records are a perfect illustration of why I do love pop music. Intelligent without being pretentious, and fun without being insipid, the stomping merriment of #1 Record, the bursting-at-the-seams-with-life shuffle of Radio City, and, yes, even the hopeless disintegration of Third are pure magic--a delight for the eardrums and the perfect antidote to boredom and misery of all kinds.

Thank you, Mssrs. Chilton, Bell, Hummel, and Lightman. Thank you very much.