Big Star’s September Gurls is one of those rare inventions that exists simultaneously in two dimensions: it’s both heartbreakingly simple and impossibly complex. Written by Alex Chilton and buried on the back half of 1974’s Radio City, it’s a track that feels like it shouldn’t work as well as it does. It’s fragile but confident, nostalgic but immediate, and, somehow, eternally relevant. The song is pop perfection — but not in the sterile, studio-polished way we often associate with “perfect” music. Rather, it’s perfect like a Polaroid with a light leak: raw, flawed, and alive.
To understand the power of September Gurls, you have to begin with its jangly and bright opening riff that occupies the space between the Byrds and the early Beatles, but with a brand tension that neither of those bands quite captured. It’s a sound that evokes an idea of summer slipping into fall, the kind of autumn where the air smells like cut grass and cigarette smoke. Chilton’s voice, full of yearning and barely concealed vulnerability, invites you in, setting up a contrast between the upbeat instrumentation and the aching core of the song.
I loved you, well, never mind
I’ve been crying all the time
-Big Star, September Gurls
Chilton sings, and it’s both completely specific and maddeningly vague. Who is the September Gurl? What did she do? And why does she still feel so present in every note of this song, even 50 years later? It doesn’t matter. The song doesn’t need to explain its pain because it’s universal: the bittersweet memory of a relationship that burned bright and ended too soon.
The Timeless Appeal of Teenage Angst
On the surface, September Gurls seems to deal in the currency of nostalgia. It’s a song about looking back, but it’s also a song that knows nostalgia is inherently bittersweet. Chilton captures the way our memories of love are never clean; they’re messy, tangled things, equal parts longing and regret. When he sings, “September gurls do so much,” he’s simultaneously celebrating the intensity of a moment and mourning the fact that moments don’t last.
September Gurls is not really about September, or girls, or even love in the traditional sense. It’s about the idea of love — the teenage kind of love that’s all-encompassing and self-destructive, the kind that feels like it’s both the best and worst thing that will ever happen to you. That’s why it’s timeless. Whether you’re 16 or 60, you’ve felt the emotions Chilton is singing about. The song taps into something primal, something that’s both deeply personal and universally relatable.
Perfectly Imperfect Production
One of the things I find most fascinating about September Gurls is how much of its charm comes from its imperfections. Big Star’s Radio City was famously recorded in a state of chaos, with founding member Chris Bell gone and the band’s future uncertain. You can hear that chaos in the song’s production. The guitars don’t quite line up perfectly, and the mix feels a little off, like someone recorded it in their garage (because they kind of did).
Those imperfections make the song feel so vibrantly alive with human complexity. In an era where pop songs glisten with polished shine, September Gurls is a reminder that music doesn’t need to be flawless to be beautiful. More to the point, it’s the flaws that accentuate its impact. Chilton’s voice cracks in places, the harmonies feel slightly off-kilter, and the whole thing sounds like it could fall apart at any moment. And yet, it doesn’t. It soars.
A Cult Classic That Defines a Genre
As a dues-paying member of The Brotherhood of Infinite Trivia and Tangents (B.I.T.T.), I’m obligated to write about the influence September Gurls wields. Despite Big Star’s commercial failure, the song became a touchstone for an entire generation of musicians. R.E.M., the Replacements, Teenage Fanclub — September Gurls is encoded in their DNA. It’s a cornerstone of what we now call power pop, a genre that thrives on the tension between sweet melodies and bitter lyrics. The Replacements so adored Alex Chilton they wrote a power pop ode to the man in the form of the eponymously titled Alex Chilton.
Children by the million sing for Alex Chilton when he comes 'round
They sing, "I'm in love, what's that song?
Yeah, I'm in love with that song
-The Replacements, Alex Chilton
September Gurls wasn’t designed to be iconic. It wasn’t a calculated hit or a statement piece. It was just a song by a masterful songwriter — a heartbreakingly good song — that somehow managed to transcend its own modest ambitions. And that’s what makes it particularly potent.
The Eternal September
Listening to September Gurls today (or seven times in a row last night as the case was) feels like flipping through an old photo album. It’s a snapshot of a moment in time, but it also reflects memories and emotions. Maybe you think about your own version of the September Gurl — the person once loved and now lost, the one who still lingers in the mind long after you’ve fallen out of contact. Or maybe you just get lost in the song’s shimmering guitars and bittersweet melody, letting it wash over you like the last warm breeze of summer.
At its core, September Gurls is a song about being human. It’s about the way we love and lose, the way we hold onto memories even when they hurt, and the way music can make us feel both completely alone and deeply connected at the same time. Alex Chilton might not have set out to write a masterpiece, but that’s exactly what he did. And like all great art, September Gurls lingers, hanging in the air like a fading sunset, forever chasing the end of summer.