March 2010
1 post
The first time I heard Alex Chilton sing, I was unimpressed. I was 23 at the time, that treacherous, liminal age when the line between good ideas and unbelievably bad ideas is more or less impossible to make out, and I thought I might be falling in love. The few serious relationships I’d had up to that point had been with men of a certain ilk: bright, sensitive, maybe a little bit gay. This guy,...
