The stage was set for minor drama as Vic Chesnutt spun his wheelchair around to face the audience staring up at him from the oak pews of St. Ann's Church. "Hello. I'm here by myself tonight. I heard that Lambchop was gonna be here, but they're not," he drawled. "Fuck 'em."

No reason for the disappearing act was given, but even without the help of the languid twelve-plus member country outfit, who collaborate with Chesnutt on his forthcoming record, The Salesman and Bernadette (due out November 10th), the singer/songwriter delivered an engaging solo performance. His shadow looming on the back of the church wall against a stained glass depiction of the Last Supper, Chesnutt switched back and forth between piano and nylon stringed acoustic guitar as he delivered his songs. His shy, good-natured stage demeanor quickly endeared him to the artsy Brooklynite crowd.

Chesnutt started out the set at the piano with "Myrtle" from his 1997 major-label debut, About to Choke. His approach was slow and contemplative, and he played mostly with one hand, drawing out the spaces within each line. Throughout the song he added the odd vocal nuances that are part and parcel of his unique musical vocabulary, prefacing words with sounds like "erm" and "um". His love of language found him massaging words like "parliamentarian" and "degenerate" into his verses; and while anyone can spit out a string of fifty-dollar words, Chesnutt fashions them into a stick and pokes you with it.

There was a healthy sampling of songs from the new album, which were met with quiet attentiveness. From the first line of "Replenished" -- "sittin' in the breakfast nook, flippin' through a saucy book" -- it was clear that everything fans love about his style and delivery was intact. Some comic phrasing, a few "sha la la's" and some imitation kazoo sounds helped get the songs across.

After an intermission, during which he invited the crowd to "take a wizz," Chesnutt asked for requests and listened for "contenders" in the attendant din of shout-outs. He obliged with slowed-down renditions of "New Town," "Florida" and "Lucinda," which references Lucinda Williams. All were good, but they exposed the one weakness of the performance: the fact that Chesnutt dwelled on slow songs with no appreciable changes in tempo. The one exception was a rousing version of "Little Vacation." Originally recorded in cheesy Casio keyboard style for Choke, Chesnutt's acoustic guitar version was just as humorous and effective, his voice alternating between Forties-era crooner and a baby falsetto not unlike that of Adam Sandler.

Still, a sense of deep melancholy crept in during timed-tested songs like "Panic Pure" and "Betty Lonely," his professed "favorite song I ever wrote," about a girl who lives by the airport and thinks in Spanish. Having completed his second set, Chesnutt rolled up to the front of the stage and raised his hands in a gesture that seemed to ask, "Was that good enough?"

As if the gesture were necessary.

EVAN SCHLANSKY(November 3, 1998)