Aural Fixations

VIC CHESNUTT
Little
West of Rome
Drunk
Is the Actor Happy?
(New West)
I remember the first time I ever heard Vic Chesnutt. It was in 1991 at the Cannibal Club in Austin, Texas. Chesnutt was listed as the opening act for Bob Mould, then in the midst of the first of many solo acoustic tours. I knew absolutely nothing about Chesnutt, his music or even what he looked like. I assumed he would be playing solo, but otherwise I was completely ignorant. I saw the guy in the wheelchair in the club, but didn't make the connection until he rolled onstage. He seemed unhappy to be there—the first song had the defiant lyric "I'll punch you in the fuckin' face" and the bitter mood never lifted. I wasn't bowled over, but I was intrigued enough to buy his debut album Little a few days later. I didn't give it nearly the chance it deserved, though I held on to it over the years. His other early records on the Texas Hotel label passed me by completely; I didn't pick up on his stuff again until his mid-90s major label debut About to Choke and the tribute album Sweet Relief II: Gravity of the Situation. That was when I first realized what a great Southern artist he was, how he was as much the logical descendant of Flannery O'Connor as much as any musician below the Mason Dixon line. I followed his music more carefully after that, but by the time I was sufficiently drawn in by great records like The Salesman and Bernadette and Silver Lake his older stuff had fallen out of print. That's what I get for being behind the curve.

Fortunately, his current label New West has acquired and reissued the Texas Hotel records, with remastered sound and bonus tracks. Little, originally released in 1990 and produced by R.E.M.'s Michael Stipe, sounds about like I remember it: a rawly produced, even more rawly performed set of quietly passionate songs that seem to ramble over and around the basic melodies. Despite the preponderance of acoustic guitars and Chesnutt's pleasantly gritty voice, this isn't easy listening, but who says it should be? "I'm not a victim!" he declares on "Speed Racer," a declaration of independence from religious dogma, and his anger is palpable. But "Independence Day" reveals a depth of vulnerability that belies any deliberate cantankerousness; the bonus cut "Acting So Bad" reveals the infamous sense of humor that was nowhere to be found the first time I saw him. Four more bonus tracks (including "Miss Mary," which would appear on the next record) round out what's now recognized as the debut of an important voice in alternative songwriting. [buy it]

Also produced by Stipe, 1992's West of Rome fills the sound out with some light bass (played by Chesnutt's wife Tina), percussion, keys and electric guitar, though if anything it sounds even more intimate and personal than Little. Considered to be a watershed in Chesnutt's development, the album contains some of his best songs. The sardonically cranky "Stupid Preoccupations" and downright hilarious "Steve Willoughby" ("Someday I will transcend/Just like Janes' Addiction," the latter sung with enough Southern twang to make it rhyme) find Chesnutt just getting funnier; even better, he's marrying his whimsy to stronger melodies. The haunting, strangely erotic "Miss Mary" probes mysteries about which even Chesnutt sounds unsure, while the defiantly catchy "Withering" shakes a finger or two at someone frittering away his life to substance abuse. The title track, inspired by but not about John Fante's novel of the same name, cocks an eyebrow with the lyric "Yes it's a sad state for great suffering," but despair is rarely evident. Augmented by seven bonus tracks (plus an "Intro") that are as strong as the official cuts, West of Rome sees the debut's ante and raises it beyond matching. [buy it]

Drunk, also from 1992, is another fine set of Chesnutt songs giving varied arrangements. From simple acoustic settings like "Supernatural" and "One of Many" (lyrics by poet Stevie Smith) and the gentle country rhythms behind "Dodge" to the full-blooded production of the noisy guitar-ridden title track, the sampler-anoited "Kick My Ass" and the funky bass-driven "Sleeping Man," this record almost effortlessly matches mood with meaning, a remarkable feat given the rumors of a hard-partying atmosphere surrounding the sessions. All the better to capture the little moments, throwaway lines like "When I ran off and left her/She wasn't holding a baby/She was holding a bottle/And a big grudge against me" ("When I Ran Off and Left Her") that say as much as an entire chorus from wordier writers. Chesnutt's vocals range widely, from soulful crooning to wrecked caterwauling, but never outside of a song's emotional tenor. With the additon of a whopping nine extra cuts, including a cover of Bob Dylan's "I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine," Drunk is another excellent record that suffers only in comparison to West of Rome. [buy it]

1995's Is the Actor Happy? gives Chesnutt's offbeat musings their most commercially presentable backdrop yet. Tunes like "Onion Soup" and "Gravity of the Situation" hew fairly closely to a traditional roots rock format, making them catchier and more accessible than anything he'd yet done. A lyric like "Even her freakish nipples are akimbo" from "Doubting Woman" sounds less eccentric in the cushion of the friendly tune in which it's couched. "Strange Language," "Thailand" and "Thumbtack" have power chords backing up the melodics, while the strings-adorned "Guilty By Association" is one of his most luminously beautiful numbers. His lyrics (dwelling on the intricacies of friendship more often than not) and vocals remain the same, equal parts soul and sardonic humor. The album culminates with the excellent "Free of Hope"—over grunged-out guitar melodies the chorus "Free of hope/free of a past/Thank you God of nothing/I'm free at last" makes it clear the title state is one to be celebrated, not lamented. There are only six bonus cuts this time, mostly demos and live cuts (including a "Parameters" taken from a performance at Austin's Electric Lounge), though the goofy "Fun Party/Shoestring Store" is an early collaboration with Lambchop, with whom Chesnutt would make The Salesman and Bernadette. It's another great record that solidifies the reputation of Vic Chesnutt as one of the most formidable and distinctive songsmiths of our time. Michael Toland [buy it]