Big Star "Thank You Friends"

When I was a kid, I worked at an ice cream stand.

People loved it.  For many, coming to get an ice cream was a highlight of the day.  Coming to OUR ice cream stand, was a part of their summer experience.  To this day, I'm sure that people who lived or summered in the Newburyport area have warm memories of Haley's Ice Cream.

Compliments at Haley's were easy to come by.  You weren't selling life insurance or bath fixtures.  When you gave them what they had ordered, there was a light in their eyes, and a grateful thank you on their lips.  They might even tell you that they love the ice cream you make.

But that was nothing.

It's been a pretty amazing two months, and so much of it has gone by so fast that it was hard to take in, process and respond to, as it was happening.

Two months ago, mvyradio told its listeners we needed $600,000 to survive.  And the listeners responded.

Now, I didn't have a lot of doubt that we could raise that much money.  I knew people loved our station and were willing to donate $25 or $100 or more, to keep it alive.

But I just can't get over the number of messages that we got from people who didn't just say, "I love your station," or "I want to support you," but went on to tell very personal stories about how much a part of their lives the station had become.

People wrote us about collectively listening to "Alice's Restaurant" as a family, singing while all on the phone together because the family was apart of Thanksgiving.

More than a few folks told us of hitting mental health low points, but being able to turn to the station, hearing a song that lifted them up, or even picking up the phone and having a DJ who wanted to talk to them.

We heard from an ICU nurse who would bring a radio to a patient if the unit was having a particularly loud or chaotic night.  The music was a distraction and a comfort.

And I got a very personal letter from a woman who had discovered the station via her husband and listening became something they shared.  Even years after his death, she would hear a song on MVY and think "That's a tune he would have loved."  She needed the station, because the music was her way of staying connected to her love. "Don't die," she wrote.

We got donations from 3800 listeners.

And among those, we got donations from many musicians.  Not necessarily big names.  But folks we have supported.  Local and regional.

We got donations from Record Label people, Radio promotions people, and even DJs from other stations.  They recognize that MVY is unique, valuable and worth saving.

And, special in our hearts, were the donations we got from our own families.  The Moms and Dads and Brothers and Sisters of the station staff pitched in too, and it was great to see a familiar last name (Dacey, Redington, Phaneuf, Hammond and many more) land in the donation box.

Saturday was the mvyradio Big Chili Contest, and that's where the hugging began.  People we've known from around, or people we've never met before in our lives, gave us hugs, told us that they love us and congratulated us.

It was much more love than I ever got serving ice cream.

The song in my head (and there's always a song in my head) was this Big Star tune.  I'll put the lyrics below, because it really speaks to our story and success.  I love that he sings about things being "so probable."

Thank you, Friends.  Personally, and professionally.

You saved mvyradio.


Hear the song on Youtube.

Thank you, friends
Wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you
I'm so grateful for all the things you helped me do

All the ladies and gentlemen
Who made this all so probable

Thank you, friends
I rejoice to the skies
Dear ones like you do the best I do
As far as can see my eyes

Without my friends I got chaos
I'm off in a bead of light
Without my friends I'd be swept up high by the wind

All the ladies and gentlemen (I said all)
Who made this all so probable

Thank you friends (thank you, again)
Dear, dear friends (thank you, again)
And again, and again
Never too late to start

Evan Dando "Ballad Of El Goodo"

Here's another Weekend Post:

Like yesterday's post, here's a 90s version of a throwback tune.  This one is from a pretty good soundtrack to a pretty lousy movie, Empire Records.



Hear the song on Youtube.


See the trailer on Youtube.

Weekend posts are a chance to revisit songs that have happy memories, not of anything in particular, other than just hearing the tunes.

Many of these songs were tracks that I played during my 90s stint as an Alternative/Modern Rock radio show.  They're tunes that I hardly hear these days, but are wonderful to revisit.

Click on the "Weekend Posts" label below, to see other posts like this.

Super Deluxe "She Came On"

Movies like to depict the “Aha!” moment.

The character, who has been one way for the entire film, has a single conversation/realization/life-changing event, and suddenly they realize that they should spend more time with their kids or they really love their bookish best friend not the hot model they’ve been chasing. Or whatever.

But real life isn’t like that. Realizations tend to come more gradually, as does change.

You don’t wake up one day and decided, Hey, I should grow up a little!

No, it’s more of a process that maybe starts internally as you question how and why you do certain things, and continues with you evolving as a person.

I remember in the late 90s when this song by Super Deluxe came out. I instantly gravitated toward it, because I was in a huge Power Pop phase, listening incessantly to Matthew Sweet and Big Star and The Posies. “She Came On” is so damn hooky!

Then I was struck by a particular line:

“I found myself wandering aimlessly, calling it Freedom.”

I knew what it meant. It really hit home. It's where I was.

I was still living like a college student, happily untethered from responsibilities of relationships or sobriety or major possessions. Anything that weighed me down, or smacked of adulthood, I roundly rejected.

But there was already a part of me (in my thoughts, but not yet my actions), wondering: To what end?

I’d see these guys out at the bars, 10 years, 20 years older than me, still living like they were in college. Did I want to be one of those guys?

I didn’t yet have the answer of what I DID want to be (I still kinda don’t), but I’d seen “Dazed And Confused.” I didn’t want to be Matthew McConaughey's character, aging but not changing.

I was years away from wanting to, or being ready to be married, or own a home, or consider that staying home on Friday night wasn't the worst fate in the world.

But a simple pop song was there to let me know that I was evolving.

Super Deluxe - Music - More Music Videos

See the video on Totally Fuzzy.

The Posies “Grant Hart”

In all the ink spilled* in praise of Alex Chilton, on his passing a couple of weeks back, music writers/music lovers were making sure that Chilton’s work -- much of which went unjustly unnoticed for a big chunk of his career -- was noticed, remembered, codified into the canon.

Passed over, in much of the Chilton press, was the importance, and wonderfulness of The Posies.

It was Ken Stringfellow and Jon Auer who stepped in, during the mid-90s, when Big Star was invited to reunite. The Posies songwriting team filled in perfectly for the 2 members of Chilton’s 70s band that were dead/out of the music business.

And it made such sense that it was The Posies who became part of Big Star, since they themselves were this incredible band, turning out the finest examples of beautiful, shimmering, sometimes wrenching, sometimes challenging, always interesting pop music. And who, like Chilton, seemed poised for bigger things that never came.

The story folds in on itself once more, with this song, about Grant Hart, one of two incredible songwriters in Husker Du, the beloved Minnesota trio whose influence reached farther than their record sales would suggest.

Need a fix? Take two Grant Harts, two Posies, two Big Stars, and call me when you die.

Music clips: "Grant Hart," Grant Hart and Jon Auer singing with Big Star










* Maybe it's time to retire this metaphor. Hardly any ink was spilled in this digital world . . .

Big Star "You Can't Have Me"

Did you go back and listen to "Thriller" for the first time in years, when Michael Jackson died?

Losing an artist often spurs you on, to go back and remember why you liked them, long ago. And sometimes there's a nice little surprise in that reminder.

When Alex Chilton died last week, I wrote about it here, and mentioned "You Can't Have Me" in the post, then realized it had been a while since I last listened to the album "Third/Sister Lovers." If I were going to listen to Big Star, I'd more likely put on one (or both) of the first 2 records, which are loaded with Power Pop classics.

"Third/Sister Lovers" is a more challenging record. I read this great book called "It Came From Memphis" which had a whole chapter devoted to Chilton. And I remember that the making of this album was difficult---the label was going bankrupt, Chilton was becoming increasingly challenging toward his producer Jim Dickenson, and many of the songs live on the dark side. And when I'd want a little Big Star happiness, I didn't necessarily want to be challenged, so I'd skip the final record.

But the day after Chilton died, I was on the Steamship, and thought I'd listen to the record on my ride. So rewarding.

Of course, there are plenty of bright spots that I remembered, like the shimmering Christmas song "Jesus Christ" and the affirming "Thank You Friends." And there were wonderful, complex moments that I hadn't thought about in a while, like the beautiful "Take Care" and the buoyant "O Dana."

But the real treat was hearing "You Can't Have Me" for the first time in years, and really being swept up in the defiance of Chilton's vocals, the swirling, chaotic Dickenson production with horns and backing vocals and piano and harmonica, and especially, especially, Jody Stephens wild, passionate drum fills.

A joyful noise that made me want to go listen to ALL my albums, to rediscover all those gems that I've let slip away.

(skip forward to about 2:40 for "You Can't Have Me")


Hear clips from all the songs mentioned in this post:

Alex Chilton “Il Ribelle (The Rebel)"

When an artist dies, it’s pretty easy for music writers/critics/fanboys to slip into hyperbole about that person’s influence.

And maybe you’ve heard that Alex Chilton died this week, and have balked at some of the reverential coverage.

You may have never heard of Alex Chilton, though, at the very least, you recognized his biggest hit, “The Letter” from when he was the 16 year old lead singer of The Box Tops.

But it’s a testament to his enormous influence, to check out the music sampler below, to hear who counted Chilton as an inspiration.

And his obscurity, is probably a testament to his attitude and obstinance. After feeling that he and his music, were poorly handled at the end of the Box Tops and with his next group Big Star, Chilton was willfully rebellious against being boxed in by styles, trends, and simple marketability. “You can’t have me, not for free,” he once sang.

Big Star was set to perform this weekend at South By Southwest, with the 3 original surviving members playing together for the first time in 35 years. No doubt, it would have introduce Chilton to a whole new world of music lovers.

For today, we just have to celebrate is influence.

Check out just a few of Alex Chilton's fans, singing songs he wrote or co-wrote:

(when you get to the "Various Artists" cuts, click through to the album to see the various bands involved)

"You want me to do some audience-pleasing old style rock n roll? Sure, let me sing in Italian."


For better or worse, this is Chilton's most famous songwriting credit:

Big Star “Motel Blues”

All Time Top Five Songs About Motel Rooms . . .

From time to time on Every Day I Write The Blog, I do a week’s worth of my five favorite songs on theme. For the All Time Top Five rules, see this previous post.

This track is from a live, Big Star CD. Which means I am compelled to say two things:

First, I’ll point out that I think this is the first time where I am repeating an album. I wrote about the song “In The Street” a while back, when a listener told me that it was the worst song he’d ever heard.

Secondly, any mention of Big Star comes with a requisite background explanation.

Big Star was a band formed in Memphis in the early 70s. Despite critical acclaim, their records were poorly promoted, and subsequently sold few copies. They broke up, but became an influential cult favorite to artists like R.E.M., Matthew Sweet, The Gin Blossoms, Wilco and more. This Cult Cred culminated this past year, with a huge boxed set, issued by Rhino Records.

Part of the first Big Star renaissance, when Rykodisc records reissued their 3 proper albums in the early nineties, included the album simply titled “Live,” a long lost live-on-the-radio appearance by the band.

Big Star was led by Alex Chilton, who, at the time of the recording, was already an industry vet. As a 16-year-old, he became the lead singer of The Box Tops, and recorded the vocals for one of the all-time great Rock N Roll songs, “The Letter.” Unfortunately, the exploitation of his talent, at the hands of The Biz, left the now 22-year-old Chilton pretty jaded. When asked by the WLIR radio host on this live recording, what the music business was like back when he recorded “The Letter,” Chilton responded, “Kinda scummy. Like now.”

So it seems only fitting that the band would take on another famously blunt, occasionally cranky songwriter’s tune. Loudon Wainwright The Third’s song “Motel Blues” had only been released a year earlier at this point, but the attitude was right for Chilton.

It’s only a few lines, but, like so many good songwriters, clean strokes paint the images clearly and quickly. World weary, deglamorized and just a little desperate, Big Star makes this song fit nicely alongside similar tracks penned by themselves like “Thirteen” and “I’m In Love With A Girl.”

Hear clips of all the songs mentioned in this post:


Hear the song, set to some rare, random Big Star footage, and hear Loudon Wainwright sing it 30-plus years after he wrote it.

And read a recent interview, where Loudon suggests how he might update the lyrics (at the bottom of the article).

Buy Big Star “Live” or buy ”Keep An Eye On The Sky” boxed set.

Big Star "In The Streets"

Is this the "worst song ever"?!

When I pick up the request line at mvyradio, it's often a person with an opinion on the other end of the line. They want to let us know that they like, or they don't like something or other. But generally, the conversations are brief and to the point, especially if the caller has some negative feedback.

Last week, I was doing a Live Acoustic And Cover Tunes set of songs by the influential, but relatively obscure band Big Star. Their records were commercial failures in the early seventies, but they found a following among artists growing up in the eighties, who embraced power pop. R.E.M., Matthew Sweet, The Gin Blossoms and The Lemonheads have all sited Big Star as an important influence.

Most people aren't familiar with the band, but may know this song, because it was re-recorded by Cheap Trick, for the theme song to "That 70s Show," (albeit with drug reference removed).

So I played this track, a live version recorded at a radio station appearance, and I got a call.

Not only did the caller say that he didn't like the song, he told me it was the most horrible thing he'd ever heard. He hated the singer. He hated the guitar part. He hated the drumming. He hated the lyrics. He hated the quality of the recording.

In short, his sensibilities were completely offended.

He ended his call, back on Earth, saying, "I love mvy. I love what you do. But I hated that."

Certainly, this is not the best song, or the best recording ever. But is it that horrible?

Hear Big Star "In The Streets"

See a reunited Big Star on Jay Leno, here