Last night I had the extreme pleasure of witnessing American underground legend, Vic Chestnutt playing his sparse blend of warts & all folk rock at The Troubadour. From the get go, this was always going to be something special… Vic touting that he was going to take us through his back catalogue, playing a song from each album, opening with Mr Reilly off his 1990 debut Little. With only his battered acoustic and voice, the poetry of his lyrics cut straight through…
well there’s a Mr. Reilly who swears
that in Baton Rouge Louisiana,
they don’t care about, his philosophy
he swears that any time in Baton Rouge
everything is the same
Then it was on to 1991′s West of Rome and the song Sponge with Chestnutt howling,
and when the crisis passes
when the coast is clear
I’ll be buffed down to a liquid
and the world, world, world it is a sponge
We were also treated to Supernatural (from 1993′s, Drunk), Gravity of the Situation (from 1995′s Is the Actor Happy?) and closer, Florida (West of Rome), with Vic aptly joking, that over here, you could change Florida to Gold Coast and have it ring true.
Florida, Florida, the redneck riviera
Florida, Florida, there’s no more pathetic place in America
I bantered with Vic to have him play Vesuvius, but hey, you can’t have everything. If you have never had the pleasure check out these lyrics…
Vesuvius
Trying to clip the creek to the bank with a clothes pin
Waterlogged system, rusty spring, faulty planning
Logic squeezed out like mustard at a corndog
Hypertension is not wisdom, chewing the leather straps
Trying to hold the sun still with a bobby pin
Burned fingers. excellent conductor of heat
Private fantasies are not public policy
Christian charity is a doily over my death boner
Busy work is not the Great Wall of China
Vanity bamboo hut out back behind the big house
Pretend is salve for whitey-boy guilt
Furiously slapping at the moon with a cane pole
Trying to prop up the heavens with a fresh flat pencil
Some folks are allergic to rubber
I am trying to stitch this one to all the rest of them
But the seams will split, collide and cleave
Neopolitan ice cream is never truly integrated until it’s too late
Trying to stop the bleeding with scotch tape
Platelets spoil adhesion, fire up the cauterizing iron
It’s a branding of necessity not scarification
Bliss was a pimple that I tried to pop
It erupted up and out on my countenance
Ugly eruption, Vesuvius, ugly eruption, Vesuvius
Ugly eruption, Vesuvius
Vesuvius at myself, Vesuvius at myself
For all those who saw the show (and there were not enough of them…), I am sure they are like me, smiling, dusting off the records and singing duets with Vic, loud enough for the neighbour’s to hear.
And for those who don’t have any records to sing along with, check out these four clips detailing the making of his classic 2005 album, Ghetto Bells… great stuff.
