If you happened to miss the Vic Chesnutt/Clare and the Reasons show at the Music Hall of Williamsburg last week, you’ll probably want to consider braving the hipster battleground more often.
Now firstly: It’s true, Clare and the Reasons has probably gotten the word “ethereal” in their live reviews more times than they care to count, but hey, if the shoe fits, you gotta wear it, right? Right. But hold that thought for a second. Is that a washboard I spy? Okay, sure, makes sense — after all, gotta cover all the bases. And every band playing in Brooklyn these days has to meet their one-washboard quota (see: Buttermilk’s monthly CashHank tribute). And just in case you get bored, there’s a kazoo involved too. So much to soak in. For short attention spans (and let’s be honest, who doesn’t have one these days?), this is possibly paradise.
There’s more though — vocally, Clare’s voice is the vocal equivalent of a theremin, warbling like the soundtrack to a silent film. It easily fits in with everything the band tackles, including a cover of Phil Collins’ “That’s All,” which is complete with a tuba. Beat that.
Vic Chesnutt is a worthy match, however, even though his sound is light years away from the Reasons. Chesnutt is a perfect storm, akin to a slightly angrier Tom Waits, but one backed with full orchestration. (And as a side note, the man is an immensely talented songwriter, so kindly don’t confuse him with ’80s country crooner Mark Chesnutt.)
It’s important to note that Vic is not waiting for anyone. He’s going to take his sweet time languishing in his songs, and he doesn’t care if you’re along for the ride. And that’s a good thing—nothing is compromised, but everything is received by the audience in full. The man is here to tell stories (“Chinaberry Tree” was especially spot-on storytelling) and he hopes you’re there, but no biggie if you’re not. He’s cool with that. Kind of like an uncle who’s seen it all.
Chesnutt has proven that he can play all kinds of sets — he opened for Jonathan Richman at Bowery Ballroom earlier this year and played a very different, almost slyly kooky set in that show. But mirth mostly wasn’t in the cards for the set he gave the Music Hall — and it still worked seamlessly. The strings made it haunting, and the all-seated performance (Vic uses a wheelchair, but the rest of the musicians stayed seated as well) brought about a purposefully dark set that contained little goofing around — other than the occasional wry aside — but still managed to bear no expense at the overall energy of the show. Funny how talented musicians like Chesnutt can pull that off.
