Gravity in Bulk

Eccentric Southern songwriters Vic Chesnutt and Jack Logan are the Jimmy Webb and Burt Bacharach of their Generation

by Russell Hall

Five years ago, Jack Logan was dividing his time between repairing pool motors by day and constructing enough songs with his musician friends to fill a 90-minute tape in one session by night. Today, after two albums and enough glowing press to wallpaper his house, Logan's life isn't radically different. Oh, some things have changed, to be sure. He's married now, and he's also the proud owner of a new used '65 Dodge Dart. But if his wife thought she was getting an Athens version of Bono, one has to hope the newlyweds remembered to hash out a prenuptial agreement.

Vic Chesnutt is married, too, to a wonderful wife who serves double duty by playing bass in his band. In recent months, Tina Chesnutt's father has been helping the couple build a garage studio that takes up a good chunk of their back yard. In general, Vic enjoys the recording process the way some folks are drawn to horror movies; that is, he finds the experience both exhilarating and frightening.

Chesnutt's ambivalence toward recording has a long history. Just ask his good friend, Michael Stipe. It was Stipe who first dragged Chesnutt – protesting all the way, so the story goes – into a recording facility eight years ago, and cajoled him into committing some of his songs to tape. Two years later, those songs became the first of four albums released on the tiny Texas Hotel label.

A few months ago, a group of artists with wildly divergent musical sensibilities culled those albums for some Chesnutt gems and recorded the songs for a new Sweet Relief Benefit album, The Gravity Of The Situation. In November, Chesnutt released About To Choke, his first album on Capitol.

When it comes to writing, both Chesnutt and Logan create songs the way Stephen King churns out books. At last count, Logan's recorded output was approaching triple digits, and a fair number of those songs can be found on Bulk and Mood Elevator, his two albums on the Medium Cool label. The size of Chesnutt's output is probably comparable to Logan's, although, as mentioned, Chesnutt and tape recorders have a more tempestuous relationship. In his back-porch southern drawl, Chesnutt maintains he's at his best when he's alone and no tape is running. Of course, in that regard, all one can do is take him at his word.

For this conversation, the participants gathered around a table in the kitchen of Chesnutt's quaint, turn-of-the-century home. There were no Ouija boards, no Rorschachs, no Tarot cards – just a couple of six-packs to grease the mind a bit. In addition to his Dart, Logan was clearly excited about some upcoming sessions taking place at a small Atlanta studio. Chesnutt was a tad fidgety, perhaps anxious about the release of About To Choke. Now that his music is known outside a small cluster of friends and fans, the stakes have escalated a bit.

ND: When is the last time you two guys saw each other?

JACK: It's been a long time. Didn't we do a little benefit with Dave Barbe? For a school, wasn't it? They wanted to get a Spanish teacher, so they had a little musical show.

ND: You played at Logan's record release party two years ago. I didn't realize it had been that long ago.

VIC: I vaguely remember that.

JACK: Well, Vic travels the world. He's international.

VIC: Yeah, I'm a big 'un. I'm big in Puerto Rico.

ND: Are you still writing a lot?

JACK: I've been trying to. I went through a long stretch where I didn't really do anything. Most of the summer, as a matter of fact. But I'm trying to do some more now.

ND: How's married life going to change that?

JACK: I don't know. I don't see how it's really going to change it. My wife's very tolerant, and encouraging, really.

ND: Yeah, but now you have to write some about her.

JACK: Well, look at Vic. He seems happier than ever. How long have you [and Tina] been married?

VIC: Over six years.

JACK: Six years. [Vic's] my role model. He met the right person.

VIC: She's a funky bass player. Every marriage needs a bass player.

JACK: It's not an easy thing, I don't think.

ND: Which of Vic's albums is your favorite?

JACK: Well, my favorite is still West Of Rome. For some reason, I love that record. Not that all your other stuff isn't great, too.

ND: Have you heard the new one?

JACK: Not the very newest one. Is The Actor Happy? is great.

ND: It sounds like there's more peace of mind on the new one.

VIC: I don't know. I mean, it was recorded in a most haphazard way. It was kind of desperately recorded.

ND: It doesn't sound desperate.

VIC: That's good.

JACK: Where did you record it?

VIC: A couple of different places. At John Keane's [studio, in Athens]. And some was done at Full Moon, and some in New York, in the Hudson Valley. Up there in the Catskills.

JACK: Did you catch any lounge acts while you were there?

VIC: Well, I kinda went to a lounge-y place, yeah. I saw somebody play who was pretty...lounge-y.

JACK: Was it a full band, or just keyboard?

VIC: It was full-on alterno...

JACK: Ohhh. Alternative has hit the Catskills?

VIC: Well, it wasn't, like, true Catskills. This was like hipster...

JACK: Cat Foot-hills?

ND: You know, Jack, they never ran that piece we did for SongTalk. That really pissed me off.

JACK: Ah, well, you know. I'm still pretty low on the old Richter scale. I'd rather read about Jimmy Webb, anyway, in that issue you sent me. Do you like Jimmy Webb?

VIC: Yeah, I like Jimmy Webb.

ND: Does he do anything, anymore?

VIC: He just made a new record.

JACK: Wow.

ND: What are some of his songs? "Up, Up And Away"?

JACK: "Lineman For The County". Or "Wichita Lineman", rather.

VIC: "Rhinestone Cowboy". Did he write "Rhinestone Cowboy"? He definitely wrote "Wichita Lineman".

JACK: He wrote some of Glen Campbell's early hits, right? "Rhinestone Cowboy"? I thought Glen wrote that one himself.

ND: Let's hope he didn't write "Rhinestone Cowboy". [Ed. note: "Rhinestone Cowboy" was written by Larry Weiss.]

VIC: That's a great one, too! That's a classic!

JACK: He can really play, too. Have you ever seen Glen Campbell just play guitar? He's a badass. He was in the Beach Boys.

ND: Speaking of the Beach Boys, weren't you going to do something with Van Dyke Parks?

VIC: Well, I'd like to. We talked about it, but...

JACK: Have you met that guy?

VIC: Yeah.

JACK: Really? Is he a cool guy?

VIC: Van Dyke's fucking amazing.

JACK: I've got a couple of his records. Song Of The Clippers [Ed. note: we suspect he's referring to Clang Of The Yankee Reaper], stuff I've found at the Goodwill store for a dollar.

VIC: Vinyl?

JACK: Yeah, all vinyl.

ND: Last time we spoke, you were on a vinyl kick, buying Burt Bacharach and stuff.

JACK: Yeah. Well, Dionne Warwick. I love her. I think she's the perfect vehicle for those songs, 'cause she's kinda soulful enough, but still pretty "by-the-book." It's not a bunch of histrionics.

VIC: It's bee-yoo-tee-full.

JACK: Yeah, it's pretty. No dissonance. Well, actually, there is a little dissonance, in the right places. [Bacharach] was pretty clever.

ND: He wrote stuff for the Carpenters, didn't he?

JACK: Well, "Close To You". He and Elvis Costello are doing something together, for a movie or something.

VIC: Wow!

JACK: I think Costello's a big Bacharach fan.

VIC: I'll bet he is. He's gotta be, man. Costello's like Burt Bacharach on too much coke. A bitter Burt. (laughter)

ND: What was that songwriter's festival you played in London? Who else was there?

VIC: Alan Toussaint...

JACK: Wow.

VIC: ...and Guy Clark...

JACK: Wow.

VIC: ...and Joe South.

ND: Were you specifically invited?

VIC: Yeah. It was "Songwriters From the American South." It was an entire American South festival, at this museum. They had folk artists, that kind of shit.
D: How was Joe South?

VIC: Joe South was cool. I was the one who begged them to get Joe South, because I think he's an amazing songwriter. I thought they were going to get Van Dyke, but they didn't. He couldn't do it. So I told them to get Joe, and I was really excited. And then, first thing, he scolded me. First thing! He's kind of an asshole, but I still love him.

JACK: Well, he's a good bit older, now.

VIC: All those guys are older than 40. That's why I felt like it was a weird thing, you know? Here I was with all my heroes. But it was funny, because I was really excited about Joe South. And he was a freak! I saw next to him the whole night. He had his shirt unbuttoned down to here, and he was real fat, and he looks a little bit like my father. So that was giving me the creeps. He was giving me the willies, man.

First thing, during soundcheck, I said, "I want to play through an amp. I don't want to play through direct." They had an amp for me, and they said, "Well, you can go direct, too." And I said, "Well, if I go direct, I won't need an amp at all." And Joe South [growls], "Yes you will." I was like, "Ooooh, I'm sorry." And I looked around at Guy Clark, and he was like [laughs and sputters through closed lips]. We both cracked up. Joe South was cool, though. I liked him. Me and Guy Clark were cracking up at him the whole night.

ND: Joe sounded pretty good, though?

VIC: No.

ND: No?!

VIC: Well, you know, he's a great songwriter. But he hadn't picked up a guitar in a year, probably. You could tell. He was trying to do all these licks and stuff, and he had these big, fat fingers. He just couldn't do it.

ND: How do you guys feel about love songs?

JACK: Oh, I [write them] all the time.

ND: Anything less strange, say, than "Female Jesus"?

JACK: Yeah. I don't really...if I could [only] do one that's as simple and as universal as possible. I always fuck it up by putting some kind of little wise-ass part to it.

VIC: Naughty bits.

JACK: Right.

ND: The David Lynch thing.

JACK: Yeah. I mean, it's difficult. You've gotta be kind of brave, to just write something that's a bare love song, and nothing else. And to make something good, that's not maudlin. It's hard to do.

VIC: Jack writes the best love songs. It's insane. He writes amazing love songs.

JACK: (pretending to be moved to tears): Thanks.

ND: You got any particular song in mind?

VIC: There's millions of them.

JACK: But he can't name one!

VIC: No, no, I don't want to start.

ND: Wait, I'm curious. Do you ever write anything with specific people in mind?

VIC: "Love, Not Lunch"?

JACK: Yeah, but that's more of a rowdy, nasty song.

ND: "Chloroform".

VIC: Yeah, that's a love song.

JACK: Gee, I don't know. I'm starting to get scared, now. I think [Vic and I] are totally different in our approaches. But at the same time, I think he does stuff way better than – I think he could do what I do easier than I could learn to do what he does.

VIC: I couldn't do what you do. I tried. Half my fucking adult life was spent trying to do what Jack does.

JACK: I'm just not as – I stick with the same themes, pretty much. It's all the same song, really. But I do think we're both kind of storyteller fans.

ND: Do you ever write while drinking, while under the influence? A lot of writers say they can't write – can't put words on paper – while they're drinking.

JACK: I'd rather sing than actually write the words, but, you know...

ND: But you have?

JACK: Oh, yeah. I still do.

ND: Vic?

VIC: Oh, gosh. Geez. Every song before 1992, I guess, was written when I was stinking drunk, pretty much. Probably every song I wrote from 1980 to 1992.

ND: Lyric-wise, too?

VIC: Every which-wise. Performed, written...absolutely.

JACK: I guess other people take it more as a job, or something. But for me, to have a few drinks is the most...I'm not an alcoholic, so it's easy for me to say, I guess. Once you reach that point where you gotta be drunk...Vic?

(laughter)

ND: That would be a scary thought, if you felt like you had to have it to create.

(Vic whistles into his beer bottle.)

JACK (laughing): Well, you obviously don't. You've pretty much been on the wagon for a while.

ND: Maybe that's why the new album sounds different.

(Vic chugs the rest of his beer.)

ND: The new album sounds less drenched in alcohol.

VIC: A little bit was recorded [while I was] pretty wasted. A little bit. But most of it was pretty sober.

JACK: You're just trying to get out there, I think. Even if it's not on alcohol. You want to be in another state of mind, or at least I do. Because if you're just sitting there thinking "I'll do this and this and this," it just doesn't happen. That's true for me, anyway.

ND: I'm sure we all know people who did great stuff when they were drinking, and then they sobered up and now the stuff is not so good.

JACK: I think that's [due more to] age. I think a lot of people, in the beginning of their career, write great stuff, and then as they get older...I think if you just don't get too self-conscious about it, and are willing to try new stuff, you're going to be okay. You can write the same song your whole career, but you've just got to keep changing it, or something. Or come at it a little differently, and not lose the reason you liked it in the first place. I think some people get to the point where they think, "Well, fuck. This is the same as that other song I wrote, and it's not as good." And that feeling feeds on itself, until you end up trying something totally different, that's not anywhere near what you can do. And it just sounds stupid. You can become desperate, I suppose, if you feel you're stuck in a rut. I think it's different with bands than with individuals. You can get a band together and get a sound, and [suddenly] you've got about five really killer songs. And then you write a few more. And then, after two or three years, it's like, "Whoa, what do we do now?"

VIC: Right.

JACK: I can see where that would be hard to sustain. I'm amazed by the Ramones. Those first three records are so good, who cares what they did afterwards, except for a real fan? They've made different records, I guess – End of the Century – some are kind of different.

ND: One of those guys said that whenever bands change, it's almost always for the worst.

JACK: Yeah. But you know, you can't...

ND: You can't make sweeping generalizations.

JACK: But that covers a lot of people. The Beatles and the Stones are kind of the models, I guess.

ND (to Vic): Are there any particular albums you keep going back to, or particular people that you keep returning to, more than others?

VIC: You mean, like, what do I like?

ND: I think that's what I'm trying to say.

JACK: You like the Beatles, don't you?

VIC: I like some of the Beatles. I don't listen to them anymore, though, for some reason.

ND: Which Beatles? Lennon stuff, McCartney stuff, or both?

VIC: I love 'em all. I liked the White Album. I'm a White Album kind of guy.

ND: What about the early stuff?

VIC: It fucking sucked. I fucking hate the early Beatles.

ND: Really?

(Logan is breaking up in the background.)

VIC: Oh, yeah. I fucking hate it. Until they started to smoke weed, they sucked.

JACK: Post-Revolver?

VIC: Yeah. Well, even a little earlier. But I hate the [really] early Beatles. If I'd been around back then, I'd have much rather listen to Bobby Darin. Or I'd have been listening to E.T., something like that.

JACK: Ernest Tubb, not the alien. There were some great country records being made in the early '60s.

VIC: That's what I'm saying!

JACK: Buck Owens, and...

VIC: Buck, man! That was like a renaissance period, almost.

JACK: Merle Haggard, George Jones. All the big guys.

VIC: Of course, I got all [the Beatles'] records, and I listened to them a million times when I was a kid. But now I hate 'em. They were a great band and all that, but it was stupid teeny-bop music.

JACK: Lyrically, it was just..."I Wanna Hold Your Hand."

VIC: And it was just clever little chord progressions.

JACK: I don't know anything about playing guitar, but it seems like what musicians notice about the Beatles is that they were using folk chords, electrically. And no one had really done that, or something.

VIC: Yeah, I don't care. Big deal.

JACK: I wouldn't know a folk chord from an electrical cord.

ND: Do either of you ever use open tunings?

JACK: Oh, that's all I use. Anything that I write by myself.

VIC: I've got two tunings that I need to turn you on to.

JACK: Cool. I've been inventing...well, I'm sure they're something, because they sound like something. But I've been doing that, [changing] just one string. Anyone can play guitar like that, because all you do is clamp it over and you've got a chord. Do you use open tunings?

VIC: No. I mean, I do, a little, but not very much.

JACK: It's kind of a hassle, live. You've gotta have everything set up.

VIC: Yeah, that's a problem. But I just took two strings off my guitar, and tuned it like a mandolin. It's cool. I was thinking, "I want to show this to Jack." It's only four strings, so it doesn't play minors or majors, because it's not a whole chord. It's only two notes, but it's cool.

JACK: I've been writing a bunch lately, just because I have to.

VIC: You've got a new record to do, don't you?

JACK: Yeah. We'll be recording soon, behind Fellini's (a pizza place in Atlanta). Are you gonna be in town? We'll probably start...

VIC: Y'all got unlimited time out there?

JACK: Yeaah! I'm gonna try to demo as much as I possibly can.

VIC: Are you going to get all the boys in there?

JACK: Yeah, it'll pretty much be the [Liquor] Cabinet. If you're around, come along. Let's do something.

VIC: I'd love to.

ND: Here's Vic's new CD, which I can't give to you.

JACK: Is that the new one?

VIC: That's an early one. That's not it.

ND: It's the songs.

JACK: What's [gonna be] on the cover?

VIC: A photograph of me, of course.

JACK (looking at the track listing): "Myrtle." The beach, or a woman?

VIC: The bush.

JACK: "See You Around"? Awesome!

VIC: I hate that song. That's a really old one.

JACK: He played that with the La-Di-Da's.

VIC: Every gig we ever played, that was the last song. I fucking hate that song.

ND: Why'd you put it on the CD?

VIC: I don't know.

JACK: Because it's a good song.

VIC: Well, Tina liked it. But it's so old, it's sort of embarrassing.

JACK: It stands up well. But I know how you feel.

ND: All those songs that ended up on Bulk – it seems like you put a lot of effort into getting them right, even though presumably you didn't expect anything to come of it.

JACK: Oh, yeah. We wanted them to be good. But why would I have [expected anything]? Nobody had ever heard them, except for a small group of friends. (to Vic) You probably didn't expect to make records, did you?

VIC: I didn't. I didn't care. I kind of thought about it, but...

JACK: It seemed so far away, not too long ago. It just seemed impossible.

VIC: Yeah, it was ugly.

JACK: When we were first playing, Vic had his band, the La-Di-Da's, and I had Lava Treatment. We did shows together, but we were, like, the bottom rung. We were the bands they'd call Tuesday, for a Wednesday night gig. It was like, "These guys dropped out; do you guys want to play?"

VIC: But we did record back then.

JACK: Oh, yeah, always. I've got some real old stuff of yours, stuff we did on a boom box.

VIC: See, Logan was my hero.

ND: Do you think there's a particular "Athens" sound?

JACK: Well, the thing is, in Athens you can do whatever you want. But I think Athens is like anywhere else. Right now, there's a bunch of country bands, or Flying Burrito Brothers-type bands.

VIC: Yeah, there's a lot of country shit going on here.

JACK: And there was none of that five or six years ago. There was a lot of Steve Albini-sounding...

ND: So you don't think there's an Athens sound, at all?

VIC: No.

JACK: R.E.M., they're the ones who first brought attention to the Byrds-sounding thing, or something.

VIC: Dinga-dinga-dinga-dinga. Nobody does that; not even them. They don't do that shit anymore.

ND: Do people ever make comments about you and Michael sounding alike, vocally?

VIC: Oh, fuck, yeah! Of course they do!

JACK: I don't see that. I think you sound like Ray Charles.

VIC: In my wettest dreams.

JACK: It's that kind of confidence in the words, or something. He's not afraid to be a little jazzy, but he still keeps the main melody, where you can hum it. Your phrasing, I think, is what's totally unique. And your enunciation.