It's a good question, whether the mystique of Big Star has played any part in their becoming a touchstone for me - but I reckon not. Because what it's about for me is the sound - tender, ringing, fiery, there's just something about it.
Before watching this documentary (on at acmi), I was only vaguely aware of their troubled trajectory - the distribution and record label problems, Chris Bell's emotional disintegration and early death - and to be honest that back story doesn't at all romanticise the band for me (although who knows, possibly I'd cherish them less if, instead of only ever putting out those first two perfect records, #1 Record and Radio City, and then the clearly falling apart but intermittently brilliant Third/Sisters Lovers, they'd gone on to have a U2-esque decade-spanning stadium career). What remains is still the songs - dazzlingly sharp, bright moments like "September Gurls" and "The Ballad of El Goodo", "Back of a Car" and "Daisy Glaze", along with the hauntedness of Third cuts like "Kangaroo" - and the feeling.
Anyhow, Nothing Can Hurt Me was nice - I'm not normally one for music documentaries (documentaries of any kind, for that matter), but I was in the mood, and it left me with a warm feeling about the band's music. Afterwards, waiting for a friend, I stood out in the rain - this morning, I read that it turned into Melbourne's biggest storm in years - looking up at the Federation Square lights; lightning flashed every few minutes, I felt at once disconnected and still.
Before watching this documentary (on at acmi), I was only vaguely aware of their troubled trajectory - the distribution and record label problems, Chris Bell's emotional disintegration and early death - and to be honest that back story doesn't at all romanticise the band for me (although who knows, possibly I'd cherish them less if, instead of only ever putting out those first two perfect records, #1 Record and Radio City, and then the clearly falling apart but intermittently brilliant Third/Sisters Lovers, they'd gone on to have a U2-esque decade-spanning stadium career). What remains is still the songs - dazzlingly sharp, bright moments like "September Gurls" and "The Ballad of El Goodo", "Back of a Car" and "Daisy Glaze", along with the hauntedness of Third cuts like "Kangaroo" - and the feeling.
Anyhow, Nothing Can Hurt Me was nice - I'm not normally one for music documentaries (documentaries of any kind, for that matter), but I was in the mood, and it left me with a warm feeling about the band's music. Afterwards, waiting for a friend, I stood out in the rain - this morning, I read that it turned into Melbourne's biggest storm in years - looking up at the Federation Square lights; lightning flashed every few minutes, I felt at once disconnected and still.
