Alex Chilton

Alex Chilton is your basic professional cult legend. Barely ever inspired to work, famously surly, musi-cally brilliant, commercially nonexistent, he's bounced around the edge of the music business for over thirty years, the picture of dapper wastedness. The first phase of his strange career was in the mid-'60s, when as a 16-year-old Memphis boy, Chilton sang the manfully gruff lead vocals on the Box Tops' huge hit "The Letter." By the time he returned with his own group, Big Star, he had a completely different voice, high and sweet. But when Big Star collapsed, Chilton began the third and most durable phase of his career: the charismatic, self-destructive Southern grifter scamming his way to musical glory.

Chilton's discography is a complete mess. In the late '70s, he spent his famous "lost decade" coughing up material for scattered indie and import quickies. His first proper solo album, Like Flies on Sherbert, is a generously lubricated assault on any notion of production values, with pop gems like "My Rival" and "Hey! Little Child" falling apart at every chord change. The covers range from a ragged "I've Had It" (Ceroni/Bonura) to KC and the Sunshine Band (a damn fine "Boogie Shoes"). The only real musical parallels are the Lindsey Buckingham basement tapes included on Fleetwood Mac's Tusk, and the early Pavement singles that came out years later. Like Flies on Sherbert sank like a stone, which only added to Chilton's growing legend. Live in London was even messier. Eventually, his recordings appeared on cult collections such as Lost Decade and the well-titled Dusted in Memphis. The 1994 edition of Bach's Bottom is the best place to hear these songs, especially his eternal cry of physical love, "Take Me Home and Make Me Like It." "Free Again" is off-the-cuff country, "Bangkok" is off-the-cuff rockabilly, and the incoherent acoustic ramble "Walking Dead" is so far off the cuff it's rolling across the floor.

Chilton dropped out for a while, working as a dishwasher in New Orleans, but in the mid-'80s, with young bands like R.E.M. and the Replacements tooting his horn, he made one last stab at a steady career. He came back as a New Orleans soul hipster, with a funny voice and a half-assed rhythm section. Specializing in EPs, presumably because they're easier than real albums, he did great covers of R&B obscurities (Eve Darby's "Take It Off," Willie Tee's "Thank You John") beside occasional originals ("Lost My Job," "Thing For You"). High Priest, an actual full-length album, has a hilarious version of "Volare." Black List was his best retro EP, with Furry Lewis's "I Will Turn Your Money Green" and the nasty original "Jailbait" ("Every time I turn my back/Jailbait's driving my Cadillac"). Since then Chilton has mined the same vein with diminishing returns (A Man Called Destruction, Set), although he does a nice "My Baby Just Cares for Me" on Cliches. Stuff is the closest thing to a coherent introduction, which isn't to say it's terribly coherent. 19 Years is easier to find than Stuff but not as good; the 1985 summary Document is premature; the early solo recordings released as 1970 are even more chaotic than Bach's Bottom. Currently touring the oldies circuit with the reunited Box Tops, Chilton may never sing "Take Me Home and Make Me Like It" again in his life, but a fan can dream. (ROB SHEFFIELD)

From 2004's The New Rolling Stone Album Guide