Sunday 21 March 2010

Big Star - One-Liner Special

Note: I meant to write this ages ago, but the sad death of Alex Chilton has finally spurred me into action. How very remiss of me. How very typical of Big Star, a band who always had to take their praise long after it was of any damn use to them.

I have three favourite Big Star one-liners. Only one of which truly sticks in my brain as a lyric, because it manages to be totally opaque, even when saying something very direct.

The other two are all in the delivery. And really, when it comes to delivery, Alex Chilton is your man, and Jesus is his co-pilot.

#1 Record: "...and at my side is God" - 'The Ballad of El Goodo'



As a song, 'The Ballad of El Goodo' would be devastating enough without invoking the name of the Almighty. It's all grit and determination in the face of a hailstorm of insurmountable challenges. But nothing says "I may have been wrong before, but this time, nothing is gonna stand in my way" than the suggestion you've the lord of all creation on your side.

And the way Alex Chilton throws God in there, like it ain't no thing, like he nearly forgot to mention it because, well, there's a chorus coming which will flood your emotional synapses with joy and relief; like he's quietly putting down the winning hand in a long, bad-tempered poker game, just as the sun comes up...

...well it just makes that sobbing chorus all the more powerful, is all.

#2 Record: "Angels from the realms of glory" - 'Jesus Christ'

It wouldn't matter what lyric this song had: with a melody like this, it would still sound hymny. As it is, it's closer to a Christmas carol, throwing in references to royal David's city, a light in the sky, and generally spreading the good news that a saviour is born. You know the story, right?

That first line is a belter though: straight out of a Memphis preacher's lexicon of holy wonder, a line which throws open the curtains on a scene of awe and terror before we even find out where the angels are and what they're doing.



As I say, it's all in the delivery.

But as powerful as these two snippets are, it's the first line of 'O Dana' which really takes the cake; it's a big cake, in the shape of a star, and it's made of pure bewilderment.

#3 Record: "I'd rather shoot a woman than a man." - 'O Dana'

I mean, what? WHAT? Surely it's bad enough to have to shoot anyone, but to express a preference like THIS? Any woman, over any man?



The rest of the song is a plea for forgiveness - to a woman - from a bad, bad man, so you could read it as the singer admitting to the very worst thing he can possibly think of, in order to begin the cleaning of a very dirty slate.

But listen to him, does that sound like contrition? Heartbreak? Or does it sound like a boast? That present tense is worrying, isn't it? Doesn't he sound like he would STILL rather shoot womankind over mankind? What's on his mind?

Once the Dana-begging starts, we never really get to find out just what him think such a damnfool thing in the first place. I don't really want to know, it's better not to, me being someone who is very much against the shooting of people in general and the singling-out of women for this purpose in particular.

What a thing to say though. What a heartbreaking, vicious, shocking, broken thing to say. And to follow it up with a glorious chorus which cajoles a woman into forgiving him, well of all the NERVE!

If all great pop music can be summed up as an exercise in tension and release, this has to be a candidate for the best pop song ever written. It won't win, of course. Big Star never do.