I caught this piece on NPR the other day as I was eating lunch. It was one of those moments where everything stopped. I sat, still, quietly, at the kitchen table. My lunch was long gone, and still I remained, listening to the entire program before I arose from by chair. I went straight to the laptop and read more about the man.
I had not known much about the guy prior to this. I read that he had put out something like 16 albums. And I couldn’t have named one song before I happened into that radio program.
I had heard of him, somehow, somewhere. I can’t remember the context. He has such an unusual name, one I had not commonly heard. Vic. Chesnutt. Auto mechanic? Rustic furniture saleman? Writer of western tales of wrangling and woe? It has a certain ring to it. One that shall not soon pass from my mind.
Life is like that sometimes, you find out about something when it has already gone by. Vic Chesnutt is that for me.
Check it out here: npr.org.by