Readers,
We present the last of our winter elegies today, celebrating the cracked genius of Vic Chesnutt. Vic Chesnutt was born on November 12, 1964, and learned how to play guitar from his grandfather. After a single-car drunk-driving accident when he was 18, Vic re-learned how to play guitar since he was nearly a quadriplegic. Like a lot of paralysis victims he had diaphragm weakness, and who knows how much this contributed to his froggy, vulnerable singing voice–it is definitely an acquired taste, but seems to suit a lot of his lyrics. Chesnutt was one of those song-writing heroes who had a rock-solid, cultish fan base that included a lot of other musicians, but never really gained popular renown. Michael Stipe, who produced his first record, said that Vic loved words, and that if you listen carefully you can find the one word in every song that surprises you–Chesnutt liked to mix high and low verbal arcana, from “rascally” to “paragon,” and his choices lent a sense of fun and wonder to songs that tend toward a more meditative register.
Vic Chesnutt died on Christmas after taking an overdose of his prescription painkillers. His last album, 2009′s At the Cut, was one of his most critically acclaimed, and contains the beautiful song “Flirted with You All My Life,” which appears like a regular old romance song until you realize he’s talking about his previous attempts at suicide. But for our reading (and listening, if you are able to play the attached file, below) pleasure, I’ve chosen a lighter piece, one which shows off Mr. Chesnutt’s sense of humor and wordplay, and probably the first song I heard by him, a long time ago. Those of my generation will enjoy the pitch-perfect early-90′s references. Those who appreciate poetic technique will note his use of anaphora. And those who are sympathetic to his worldview might like his resigned irony. Which reminds me of something else I wanted to tackle: What is irony? I’m serious, I love it but I struggle with understanding it, so I’m opening the line up to readers. What is irony? Is there an appropriate poem that illustrates your understanding of it? Send ‘em our way. And have a good week. -ed.
STEVE WILLOUGHBY
someday I’m gonna be rich
someday I’m gonna be bona fide
someday I’m gonna be
just like Steve Willoughby
but today I’m simply I’m simply terrified
I’m terrified
someday I’m gonna be bright
someday I’m gonna be smarter smarter than smart
someday I’ll know something
just like Larry King
but today I simply I don’t know where to start
I don’t know where to start
someday I’m gonna be hot
someday I’m gonna be bigger bigger than big
someday I’ll be adored
just like Wally George
but today I simply I ain’t worth a fig
I ain’t worth a fig
someday I’m gonna be good
someday I’m gonna be virtuous
someday I’ll be a paragon
like Louis Farrakahan
but today I simply I’m a mess
I’m in a mess
someday I’m gonna be cool
someday I’m gonna kick major major butt
someday I will transcend
just like Jane’s Addiction
but today I simply I am in a rut
I’m in a rut
someday I’ll get a career
someday I’m gonna stop wasting all my time
some day I’ll gain a skill
just like Deborah Norville
but today I simply I ain’t worth a dime I ain’t worth a dime
-1992
