Vic Chesnutt Albums (14)
What The Critics Say
Only a few months after releasing his sophomore collaboration with Thee Silver Mt. Zion Orchestra, At the Cut, Vic Chesnutt has emerged with his second album of 2009, Skitter on Take-Off, and the two projects could hardly sound more different. While Thee Silver Mt. Zion Orchestra summoned a grand and gloriously idiosyncratic barrage of sound to accompany Chesnutt's songs, Skitter on Take-Off is a spare and minimal affair; Jonathan Richman and his longtime drummer Tommy Larkin produced these sessions, and though they offer understated support on a few songs (most audibly on the upbeat "Society Sue"), for the most part this is just Chesnutt's voice and acoustic guitar, cut live in the studio with a touch so light that at times it seems as if the microphones are eavesdropping on Chesnutt as much as capturing a performance. Chesnutt is an artist who is best served by emotionally direct performances, and the stark intimacy of Skitter on Take-Off largely works in his favor; the venomous whisper of "Dick Cheney" is all the more powerful for the fact there's so little to obscure it, and two lengthy tracks, "Rips in the Fabric" and "Worst Friend," give Chesnutt all the space he needs to spin his curious but compelling tales in all their richly detailed glory. Richman and Larkin are smart enough to know that Chesnutt is a one-of-a-kind songwriter and performer who doesn't need to have his work fussed with to work in the studio, but sometimes, Skitter on Take-Off feels rather too stripped down; the arrangements (or lack of them) give the songs an audio verite feel that's not unflattering, but the occasional interplay between Chesnutt, Richman, and Larkin is strong enough that it seems a lost opportunity that they didn't investigate it further. Skitter on Take-Off isn't perfect, but it ably documents just how remarkable Vic Chesnutt can sound essentially by his lonesome, and few artists could make two albums so different and so impressive within the space of a year -- truth to tell, most couldn't do it with five years at their disposal. ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
At the Cut reunites Vic Chesnutt with several of the collaborators who helped make his extraordinary 2007 album, North Star Deserter, and while you can't force lightning to strike twice in the same place, Chesnutt and this group of gifted musicians have managed to create something similarly powerful and affecting that also has a personality of its own. With Howard Bilerman behind the recording console, Guy Picciotto helping with the production and arrangements, and members of Silver Mt. Zion Orchestra accompanying Chesnutt, this follows a similar template to North Star Deserter, but At the Cut manages to sound more approachable and direct while still conjuring up striking and atmospheric clouds of sound that reinforce Chesnutt's melodies while broadening their horizons into something grand, beautiful, and challenging. Chesnutt doesn't need to bend his songs to the needs of his accompanists, and while a look at the lyric sheet reveals the same sort of skewed Southern gothic archetypes that have always dominated his compositions, these musicians bring out a side in the music that doesn't always rise to the surface in other hands, and the slow, contemplative shuffle of "We Hovered with Short Wings," the muscular dread of "Chinaberry Tree," and the sweet, twangy drift of "Concord County Jubilee" give his images just the backdrops they need. And lest anyone think the musicians are taking Chesnutt's music in a direction he wouldn't consider going himself, the closing number, "Granny," is as powerful and dramatic as anything that came before it, and it creates a large and vivid world with just Chesnutt's voice an acoustic guitar. At the Cut isn't as great a surprise as North Star Deserter, but if you thought the brilliance of that album was a happy accident, this confirms these musicians complement each other very well and hopefully will continue to do so for a long time to come. ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
'Dark Developments'
Release Date 10/14/2008
Tracks 9
Label Orange Twin
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What The Critics Say
Athens, GA isn't that big a town, so it's not surprising that Vic Chesnutt would cross paths with fellow hometowners Elf Power, or that he might invite them over to his house to make some music. What is surprising is how well their styles mesh on Dark Developments, a collaborative album recorded at Chesnutt's home studio. Like Chesnutt's excellent The Salesman and Bernadette (which he recorded with Lambchop as his backing band), Dark Developments is a collaboration in the truest sense of the word, as the frontman manages to bring out something new and richly satisfying in his musicians, and vice-versa. Elf Power's bright semi-psychedelic pop instincts brighten the corners of Chesnutt's sometimes dour melodies, and Chesnutt's playfully expansive, literate songs encourage the band to add some deeper sonic colors that wouldn't normally make their way into their work. Dark Developments also finds Chesnutt near the top of his form as a singer, with his lyrics getting an emotive and well-considered reading that's dramatic but never histrionic, and these songs boast a melodic concision that's a genuine change of pace after the grand-scale structures of Ghetto Bells and North Star Deserter. Dark Developments is a more approachable album than Chesnutt has made in a while, but he's hardly dumbed himself down; this music is as proudly eccentric as ever, and songs like "Little Fucker," "We Are Mean," and "Bilocating Dog" are sterling examples of Chesnutt's singular lyrical perspective, but the members of Elf Power lend an undertow of aural curiosity that's welcoming rather than off-putting, and the result is a small triumph of artfully applied Southern quirkiness. Fans of Chesnutt, Elf Power, or smart and adventurous pop music in general should put this one on their shopping lists. ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
'North Star Deserter'
Release Date 8/24/2007
Tracks 12
Label Constellation
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What The Critics Say
In his liner notes to Vic Chesnutt's North Star Deserter, Jem Cohen wrote, "I make films, I'm no record producer. But I needed to bring these particular people together in this particular place . . . I thought they might hit it off." Despite his lack of previous experience in the recording studio, Cohen's instincts were right on the money; he teamed Chesnutt with Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra and a handful of other notable accompanists (including Fugazi's Guy Picciotto, Bruce Cawdron of Godspeed! You Black Emperor, and Chad Jones and Nadia Moss of Frankie Sparrow) for sessions at Montreal's Hotel2Tango Studios, and the result is a truly extraordinary recording. Chesnutt is a songwriter of singular talents, embracing a homey but keenly intelligent expressionism in his songs that conveys a genuine, often touching humanity, but his collaborators on North Star Deserter have taken his music in a powerful new direction. Rather than simply filling out Chesnutt's melodies, these musicians have crafted soundscapes that often turn these songs into great chaotic symphonies, with Chesnutt's simple but confident acoustic guitar anchoring the whole. Sometimes the accompaniment is simple and subtle, as on "Warm," "Over," and "Rattle," while elsewhere the musicians truly do resemble an orchestra; a small string section adds an air of ominous grandeur to "Glossolalia," a mighty organ brings striking dynamics on "Everything I Say," a mass of harmonies and reverb-soaked guitar meshes gloriously with "You Are Never Alone," washes of sound ebb and flow through the atmospheric "Rustic City Fathers," and the ensemble rises into a glorious fusion of beauty and noise on "Debriefing" and "Marathon." On North Star Deserter, the musicians working with Vic Chesnutt serve as collaborators rather than simple accompanists, and they've truly brought out the best in one another; this is powerful, adventurous music that's as challenging as it is beautiful, and ranks with Chesnutt's finest work to date. ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
As suggested by the broad and eccentrically cinematic sweep of his songs, Vic Chesnutt is a songwriter not afraid to think big, and many of his best records have found the tunesmith working with large-scale musical accompaniment, most notably 1998's The Salesman and Bernadette (cut with the Nashville chamber-twang ensemble Lambchop) and 2003's Silver Lake (cut with a full-bodied studio ensemble in the grand 1970s manner). Released in 2005, Ghetto Bells finds Chesnutt working with a much smaller but inarguably stellar combo -- master guitarist Bill Frisell, Van Dyke Parks on keyboards and accordion, percussionist Don Heffington, and Dominic Genova and Tina Chesnutt trading off on bass. There's no denying the skill and intelligence of the players, who lend both strong individual talents and an admirable gift for collaboration to these recordings, but this is also an album that sounds a bit more intimate than it reads. As a lyricist, Chesnutt's poetic vision keeps getting broader and reaching farther with each album, and despite the talents of the musicians here, on several tracks the music simply lacks the physical strength to handle the lyrical weight of Chesnutt's material (though this isn't always the case -- the gloriously wheezy string synthesizer Parks plays on "Virginia" gives the tune an appropriately loopy grandeur, and the skeletal rhythmic framework of "Gnats" suits the material perfectly). None of the players on Ghetto Bells makes a wrong move here, with Frisell in particularly stellar form, but producer John Chelew doesn't give this music a sound as large, ambitious, and full of wonder as Chesnutt reaches for in his songs. Which isn't to say that Ghetto Bells fails -- it has far too many wonderful moments to deserve that appellation, and the glorious interplay between Chesnutt and accompanying vocalist Liz Durrett on "What Do You Mean?" alone justifies its existence. But there's something about Ghetto Bells that suggests we're listening to the pan-and-scan version of a disc that was meant to be heard in glorious CinemaScope. And Chesnutt deserves nothing less. ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
In many ways, Vic Chesnutt fits more comfortably in the great tradition of Southern literature than Southern rock & roll -- with his elegant, slightly off-kilter wordplay and comfortably elliptical storytelling style, Chesnutt has as much in common with, say, Flannery O'Connor as anyone in contemporary music. Which is to say that Vic Chesnutt doesn't sound much like anyone else, which is at once his blessing and his curse; it's hard to pitch him to most people because he's unique to the point of being an anomaly, but once you've acquired a taste for Chesnutt's emotionally generous eccentricity, it's hard to get enough of him. While Silver Lake sounds like a Vic Chesnutt album through and through, it's also a better than average introduction to the man's work; here, producer and engineer Mark Howard gives the performances an open, natural sound that puts the top-shelf band assembled for the occasion (including Doug Pettibone, Darryl Johnson, Patrick Warren, and Don Heffington) at its best advantage, and Chesnutt himself is in superb voice, inhabiting his characters with the sure and easy grace of a gifted actor. But the best thing about a Vic Chesnutt album is always the songs, and that's certainly the case here; in Chesnutt's world, life-changing romance can be found at band camp, the gulf between the sexes is at once funny and tragic, a eunuch can understand the love of both body and spirit better than the sultan he serves, and love can wound and soothe given the circumstances -- Chesnutt's stories always strike an honest and recognizable emotional chord, no matter how oddball the situations that surround them. You're not going to hear an evocation of love like "Sharing breakfast from one plate/Holding hands over loved ones' graves/Do you think I deserve it?/I say yes in my way yes" from anyone else, and the curious but heart-tugging beauty of lines like this are all the reason you need to give Vic Chesnutt and Silver Lake an honored space in your record collection. ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
'Left to His Own Devices'
Release Date 4/24/2001
Tracks 15
Label Spinart
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What The Critics Say
A collection of demos and outtakes recorded on four-track cassette, Left to His Own Devices is Vic Chesnutt's strongest and most memorable album since Is the Actor Happy -- not so surprising maybe given that Chesnutt's strength has always been the distinctive personality he brings to his songs rather than musical embellishments that come later. Herein lie classic Chesnutt lines like "your mother's being poked by some bloke in the Bahamas" (the chorus to "Wounded Prince," an ode to the "richest boy in the world") and "history is a daisy chain of lies" (from "Distortion"), lyrics that might sound trite, melodramatic, or just plain goofy coming from a less able tunesmith. But Chesnutt's laid-back delivery, his self-consciousness to the point of not being self-conscious, and his way of deceptively weaving a personal mythology out of his quirky images, make it easy to succumb to his spell. As might be expected, the instrumentation on Devices is simply Chesnutt's voice and acoustic guitar on most tracks, although on a few songs he breaks out a sampler ("Caper") or an electric guitar (the aforementioned "Distortion"). One interesting sonic feature on Devices is the way Chesnutt harmonizes with himself using multiple lead vocal tracks, sounding at times like a lo-fi, Southern Cat Stevens. ~ Jason Nickey, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Chesnutt's seventh album is a collaboration with Jack Logan associates Kelly Keneipp and Nikki Keneipp (Logan himself plays bass on one track). The Keneipps wrote all of the music; Chesnutt supplied the lyrics and some guitar; and the Keneipps played most of the other instruments. It still sounds very much like a Vic Chesnutt record. It's his rich, melancholy voice that dominates the tracks and his odd, brooding, enigmatic lyrics that set the tone. In the stately melodicism of the material, and the way Chesnutt has with wrenching soulful vocal nuances, you're sometimes reminded of two British singer/songwriters that might seem likely unlikely comparisons: Robert Wyatt and Elvis Costello. He's goofier and folkier than Wyatt, and nonetheless not as pop as Costello, but the similarities are there (though certainly these are to Costello's most reflective side rather than his power pop stuff). Piano is the prevalent instrument on many of the slow to mid-tempo arrangements, although there are occasional deviations from the usual, as in the angry, slashing guitars on "Preponderance." Chesnutt's words are often oblique, and sometimes inscrutable. It's a good thing he's a good vocalist, because the overall mood -- of dignified struggle and a man winding maze-like through life's difficulties and absurdities -- is established much more by the turns and twists of the vocals than it is by the words alone. This is a fairly impressive effort, and the Keneipps are sympathetic collaborators, but if one important criticism must be voiced, it's that the consistently sluggish pace gets a little enervating by the end of the disc. It's suitable for reflective moods, but downbeat enough to get you verging on a stupor by the close. ~ Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide
'The Salesman and Bernadette'
Release Date 9/21/1998
Tracks 14
Label PLR
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Sounding more upbeat and a whole lot more soulful than on previous outings, Vic Chesnutt has invited the Dixie-fried experimental group Lambchop along with his wife Tina into the studio for his sixth album, a concept about a traveling salesman. Salesman and Bernadette sounds less like his usual doleful, sometimes baleful, Southern Gothic self and is perhaps his best recording yet. Chesnutt's is a vulnerable voice, and though he can project frailty, his M.O. isn't pity-inducing; in fact, he's quite humorous. "Duty Free" sounds like a New Orleans funeral march. The Lambchop horn section ape the Tijuana Brass to a hip-hop beat on "Replenished." "Maiden" has a sweet melody, driven by vibes and a very subtle horn line. "Until the Led" has the spunk and spirit of R.E.M.'s "Can't Get There from Here" and "So. Central Rain"; Chesnutt draws on that keening vocal quality that probably appealed to his early mentor, Michael Stipe, in the first place. But even R.E.M. in all their new experimentation would never have let the horns run to the border like they do here. The best thing of all is that Chesnutt's "new direction" still has a warm, organic and homespun quality -- the very things that were missing on then-recent recordings by his Athens, GA brothers. ~ Denise Sullivan, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
About to Choke appeared only a few months after the Vic Chesnutt tribute album Sweet Relief II, which meant that it received more attention in the media than most of his other records. However, it's likely that it would have been put into the spotlight anyway, since it is another exceptional set of songs, delivered with a gritty vulnerability that makes his music so affecting. Chesnutt's music is a little more textured and full-bodied on About to Choke than his previous albums, yet that adds depth and maturity to his music, which also means its one of his most accessible efforts. ~ Thom Owens, All Music Guide
