With the amount of reverential treatment and pimping of Mssr. Vic Chesnutt that occurs on these pages and in my crazy little life I guess that it's only natural for people to assume that I "know" Vic. The truth of the matter is that I really don't. Sure, I've seen Vic in a hundred tiny little clubs. Sure, I've had a many, many little conversations with him over the last 12 years. Sure, he once went on an expletive-filled tirade onstage at my expense (it was crip thing). But the the simple fact remained that Vic was quite literally unapproachable. See, Vic was a notoriously vicious drunk. As Michael Stipe writes in the liner notes of the re-release of Vic's debut disc "Little:"

...as far as I could tell he would play for beer and whiskey, singing songs every week to the small crowd that would hear them. Then he would fall offstage near the end or get really ornery.

I think it was near fall when I went up to him, presented myself and said we need to get some of these songs down on tape before you drink yourself to death...

For many years seeing Vic live was a frustrating game of chance. You never knew if you were going to see the stereotypical troubled troubadour in a fit of stops and starts or an inspired artist at the top of his game. More often than not, I'm afraid, the uninitiated would leave mumbling things about "supposed genius." Those of us who were used to it would simply say "that's just Vic" and mark our calendars for the next appearance. It didn't take an psychologist, though, to figure out that he was drinking to deal with his disability. It didn't take a doctor to figure out that he was in a lot of trouble.

But a few years ago things started to change. It was subtle at first. Vic seemed more jovial and chatted onstage rather than ranted. Soon I noticed that his shows were much less spotty. When I started to see him in NYC his musicianship was dramatically improved and his frail voice was no more. I mean suddenly he could literally croon! I took joy in all of it but didn't really think much of it, I guess, until last night.

Last evening I saw Vic with a six (!) piece band at Joe's Pub. The setlist was divine. It consisted entirely of the "bonus tracks" from the Texas Hotel re-releases. As a long-time fan these were mostly songs that I heard him play live during the lean years. With a full-band and lively Vic they were simply amazing.

Then the oddest thing happened. Vic told the small crowd (it was a 7:30 show, after all) that he had the re-releases with him and that we should "all meet in that little hall back there" to buy them and get them signed. After attending countless shows since 1992, meeting several famous people thanks that attendance and fostering a "smile and nod" relationship with his wife I have exactly one signed Vic item. It's a t-shirt that was sold at the 40 Watt at a Sweet Relief show. I had the audacity to ask him to sign and, seriously, I thought he was going to punch me. I've basically been frightened of him ever since and have said little more than "hello" in the subsequent years.

You've probably figured this out already, but I had my first honestly sober conversation with Vic last night. It was surreal. We spoke about Athens, reminisced about a lot of crazy shows and about how good he feels. He hasn't had a drink in five years. He signed a couple of things for me. He had his always lovely wife take our picture.

I didn't know how to even process it for the longest time. I still don't even know how to explain what it meant to me. When I did sorta wrap my brain around what had happened it was about all I could do to not cry little tears of joy. Not for me. For Vic.