At 18, Vic Chesnutt was already pretty much a lifer. He'd written his first song at age five, and as a teenager worked playing trumpet in a cover band — composed mostly of guys twice his age — while learning various instruments and composing pop songs with them. But in the wake of a car accident that claimed the use of his legs, Chesnutt found the kind of inspiration that makes people discover new perspective on their passions.
"When I first started reading modern poetry and stuff like that … it was like a painter who's been working in finger paints all this time realizing that there's oil paints out there," he says, then laughs. "Does that make any sense?"
His subsequent convalescence and change in lifestyle made Chesnutt an avid reader. He says it was a shoplifted copy of an English-course staple, The Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry that turned him on to the language of true personal expression. This discovery and Chesnutt's love of music, from folk to punk, combined to produce some of the most unique and artful Americana tunes of the last decade or so.
"Before, I was just kind of goofing around with pop songs, [I thought] you had to write songs that had 'love' in them all the time," he says. "But when I started reading poetry, I realized 'oh, you can sing about anything.' ANYTHING. Or write about anything. And it was great. It was a revelation, and I've never looked back."
He began playing around Athens, Ga., and found a fan in perhaps the college town's most famous resident, R.E.M.'s Michael Stipe, who produced Chesnutt's first two indie albums in 1990 and '91. By all accounts, his early shows were more rough-hewn purge than tight sets, but other musicians and pundits looking for substance over style quickly gravitated toward the singer/songwriter's performances. The third Chesnutt album, 1993's Drunk, is considered a classic in many circles. A documentary on Chesnutt by Peter Stillen called Speed Racer ensued, as did Brute, an on-again off-again collaboration with fellow Georgians Widespread Panic. These developments served to spread awareness about the man in the wheelchair with the fluttery voice and amazing lyrics to fans of insurgent country and indie rock on both sides of the Atlantic. (Like a lot of quality American roots acts, Chesnutt has some seriously rabid fans in the U.K.)
But it was Sweet Relief Two: Gravity of the Situation, The Songs of Vic Chesnutt — with recordings by folks like Madonna, Garbage, R.E.M., Live, Hootie & The Blowfish and more — that really brought Chesnutt's talents into the mainstream spotlight. Released by Columbia in 1996, Sweet Relief Two was the second such disc aimed at raising awareness of the medical and financial hardships that some underground musicians face. The first featured the songs of Victoria Williams, who suffers from multiple sclerosis. Both albums were bold moves and surprise successes for a major label (though they came to fruition largely through the work of artists rather than executives). The disc in his honor led Chesnutt to a contract with Capitol, the excellent About to Choke, and a brief but sizeable walk-on role in the commercial consciousness.
Much of Chesnutt's enduring intrigue — and the reason why he'll probably never sell a million copies of anything — lies in his talent for crafting moving, resonant songs without ever relying on the same old language and simple archetypes that populate roots music. He can tell a story, to be sure, but it's not gonna be the one about how he's got friends in low places. And if he does pen some lyrics about the beautiful girl who never got out of that backwoods town, it won't sound like any other. He's never easily pegged, and as a result, never easily digested.
"I don't care, really," says Chesnutt of how his maverick talent might be perceived. "I don't really worry about what other people are thinkin' about my songs, really. Usually every song is a kind of challenge or I.Q. test that I'm working on my own, in my own little world.
"I like to try all kinds of crap, you know? Anything goes, as far as I'm concerned. As far as songwriting goes. Certain days I'm interested in exploring different things."
That desire to test himself has led Chesnutt to myriad musical choices, not just in songwriting but in areas such as production as well. In the wake of 2001's Left to His Own Devices, a collection of demos and outtakes on which he played every instrument, Chesnutt, having satisfied that particular urge, immediately headed in the opposite direction. His latest disc, the well-nigh unbelievable Silver Lake, was recorded in collaboration with a half-dozen of roots music's best session and backing-band players, and produced by Mark Howard, who's engineered records by Bob Dylan and U2.
"One of the things I really wanted to get out of this record when I realized Mark Howard was gonna produce it was, I wanted these studio types of musicians to really give, instead of being bossed around like they usually are," Chesnutt says. "I wanted them to be able to open up and give to the session, have fun. That's why I talk a lot about the credits, whose arrangement was what, on the liner notes."
The resulting album is by far the most lush and layered thing Chesnutt has released; though his eclecticism and often-poignant sense of fragility remain blessedly intact. Silver Lake can't rightly be called either a folk or an insurgent country album, given its employment of everything from swinging fuzz-bass grooves to choir-esque vocal harmonies. What it is, is the sound of an uninhibited songwriter influenced by these things, but creating his own art.
When asked if he thinks he'll ever get tired of exploring the landscape of his ideas, if he'll ever write a song that's good enough that he just doesn't feel like he has to do it anymore, Chesnutt emits that kind of half-laugh that lets one know he thinks that's about the dumbest thing he's ever heard.
"So far, I haven't gotten there yet," he chuckles. "Every song I write, I think the next one's gonna be a hundred times better. That's still kind of where I'm at."
Scott Harrell can be reached at 813-248-8888, ext. 109, or by e-mail at scott.harrell@weeklyplanet.com.
This article appears in Jul 10-16, 2003.