thought you might like this review of the latest vic chestnutt album...pulled straight from amazon, but it could be written on the walls of Whiskeytown's bathrooms...

Prolific, profound, and ever full of potty-mouthed piss-and-vinegar - Vic Chesnutt is Prometheus in a wheelchair with a battered guitar – a freak-folk trailblazer, spilling his heart and soul and spleen into the microphone, with a sly drawl, dripping humid, Southern gothic imagery in calamitous, sometimes comic songs worthy of a Greek tragedy.

and that's a cool idea...where else can you take a piss (and you'd never say that in Whiskeytown anyway, you'd excuse yourself from the bar quietly, smoothly and return a few minutes later where the bartender would ask you if you'd like a refill and then carry on the conversation as though you'd never left) and read reviews of Vic and other artists who, no doubtedly, have their instruments leaning against the cot in the back room?

 

Yep. I do like the review.  I love Vic too.  His First four albums are pure magic. The last four may be too, but I havn't been enchanted.  There is my favoirte first line though: 

               I was shivering, I'll Admit it. I had nothing better to do