Artist: Vic Chesnutt
Title: At the Cut
Label: Constellation
Genre: Folk-Rock
Release Date: 9/22/09
UPC: 666561006020
Territory: World
The master of dark, brooding confessional music, Vic Chesnutt, has prepped his new album At The Cut for release on Constellation records. Hailing from the fruitful musical ground of Athens, Georgia (all of the Elephant 6 collective hails from there), Vic has been singing and writing songs since he was but a young lad of five years old. He is a prodigy of R. E. M.’s Michael Stipe who spotted Chesnutt at Athen’s great venue the 40 Watt Club and subsequently produced Chesnutt’s first two albums.
Stipe isn’t the only notable musician in Chesnutt’s wake; he has a long list of noteworthy collaborators from his 21+ years in music including members of Thee Silver Mt. Zion and the legendary Guy Picciotto of Fugazi. His debut record on Constellation records, North Star Deserter, was reviewed by Paste magazine as the outstanding album in the long list of his appearances in various projects. These efforts have fruited a core group of players that accompanied him on two European tours in support of the album: Thierry Amar (bass), Efrim Menuck (guitar), Jessica Moss (violin) and David Payant (drums) all of Thee Silver Mt. Zion, along with Guy Picciotto (guitar).
At The Cut presents a more naked Chesnutt, exposed and raw emotionally for the listener to dissect without restrain. The album’s powerful opener, “Coward” clearly depicts this as he shamelessly proclaims, “I am a coward” with an accompanying swell from the backing band. His voice sounds far from a gentle indie songsmith; this is a musician who focuses on charging each track on his album with real, passionate emotion of various kinds. Often a shrill, distorted and enraged guitar line will cut through a tense quiet moment of Chesnutt alone with the listener, whispering his inner thoughts and delivering appropriate responses to these confessions through instrumentation. Some of the songs like “We Hovered With Short Wings” are designed for smokey, dimly lit bars on weeknights where the crowd is estrange and tiered. Others like “Chinaberry Tree” are slow-motion car rides through surreal, dark scenery; branches bending over the windows like jagged teeth and mysterious fauna darting through their crooked roots. Overall, there’s a dark, brooding, raw feeling to the whole album; it really does play unlike other contemporary indie artists. It’s not quite sad, it’s not quite malicious, it’s not quite hopeless. Instead Chesnutt gives his listener a front row ticket to his confessional and agrees with their reactions; he is aware of his sins.
This is definitely a new take on cold-weather music. If the usual acoustic guitar and soft, melancholy vocals isn’t doing it for you anymore, take a walk on the dark side and hear what Vic Chesnutt has to whisper to you in the darkest of corners. Very haunting.
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