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The most refined pop record of all time was written in 1974 but only released in 1978, marking the end of Alex Chilton's Big Star adventure. These Big Star had always been sunny and fun, but perhaps something had changed in young Chilton's mind on this last album; while the carefree light-heartedness typical of Big Star hadn't completely vanished, there’s a creeping in of gray mists enveloping the dream.
The result is breathtaking, the mirror has no reflections and no sources, the water is clear but seemingly tainted by something unclear: Chilton's eyes have opened wide.
Many tracks remain sunny though: "Kizza Me," "Thank You Friends," "Jesus Christ," the cover of The Velvet Underground's "Femme Fatale," their crystalline melodies, drunk yearnings for life like in the perfect 2:30 of "Oh Dana." This part of the record is clear.
But we abandon the blooming meadow to oblivion with "Holocaust," and it is a piano that mourns a shadowy accident. "Kanga-roo" is surrendering to strangely comforting tempests. Then there are the strings pulling the melodies along: the sound of the violin is the saddest of all instruments. Perhaps that’s why the tracks "Stroke It Noel," "For You," "Take Care" sound so inspired.
The acoustic guitar and Chilton's now virginal voice cradle in the evanescent "Nightime" and "Blue Moon," the darkest piece arrives with "Nature Boy," a Chopinesque piano and Chilton's dramatic voice... enough to dismantle even the proudest of souls.
"Till The End Of The Day" finally marks a release with Chilton’s snapping guitar in the foreground, another piece that for nostalgics like me will surely unsettle the blood-pumping muscle. In short, 19 pieces lost in a limbo between lightheartedness and deep nostalgic communion (but the kind that hits you hard in the heart, darn it).
A record of grace from times long past, a sign of that good taste difficult to find today, for one who always exaggerates, the most elegant pop record ever heard.
Neither fever nor languor, it’s the illuminated rest on the bed or on the meadow; it’s the friend, neither burning nor weak, it’s the friend; it’s the beloved, neither anxious nor anguished, it’s the beloved;
the unexplored air and world, life; a gray mist that envelops a dream.
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