Blog Posts by Martin Aston

A personal tribute to the reluctant Big Star legend, by MOJO's Martin Aston.

Alexander Chilton, Frontman of soul-pop ingénues The Box Tops, co-founder of Anglophile Dixie guitar legends Big Star and latterday solo artist, unexpectedly passed away yesterday after suffering a heart attack in New Orleans, aged just 59.

The first time we met, in spring 1986, was in London's grimy Harlesden, a fair distance from his birthplace in Memphis, Tennessee. Born on December 28, 1950, the 36-year old Alex was aquiline, with darting, twinkly eyes and a mischievous grin, eating yoghurt, sipping water and fielding my unsophisticated questions. I was barely two years into writing about music, and Chilton was a stone-cold hero, responsible for epochal Big Star albums #1 Record, Radio City and Third/Sister Lovers, someone I'd expected to die young after living fast. But having perfected the art of falling apart, he had returned, addictions banished and health seemingly resuscitated.

Spiritually too, he'd

The concert version of Top 10 Lies ("I'm on my way home"; "The check's in the post"; "No more cocaine for me, please!" etc...) is "Thanks, this is our last song!" Because unless the audience is particularly underwhelmed, or you were watching New Order through the '80s, this is hardly ever the case.

The encore has long been regarded as the money shot of the gig, the payoff for patient audiences anticipating something special and for bands who want their egos massaged. It can be a joyous occasion, tinged with anticipation at what the choice of tune may be. But generally, the shout for "more!" has become a jaded ritual that undermines the raw spectacle that rock'n'roll was meant to provide. Isn't it time it was reinvented? Or even retired?

First, a history lesson. Contrary to today's predictable state, the encore began spontaneously. The first recorded evidence was in the 1790s, when Haydn, Austria's "Father Of The Symphony," had been commissioned to visit England to play new works with a