Vic Chesnutt didn't want to perform Friday night. He would rather have gone to Atlanta to see singer-songwriter Danielle Howle, and he even put the word out ahead of time that fans should skip his show and see that concert instead. But the 40 Watt Club was still filled with a motley mix of Athens, Ga., scene regulars and a granola contingent probably in attendance because of Chesnutt's work with the jam band Widespread Panic.

But Chesnutt's music isn't for the casual shopper. The singer-songwriter is as unrelenting and cathartic as a thunderstorm, and words like eccentric, honest , and unpredictable follow him around. Still, while the Chesnutt of old might have punished the audience for his scheduling conflict, he delivered a solid, crowd-pleasing mix of old and new material.

Though Chesnutt seemed distant in some ways -- he mostly kept his eyes downcast -- he established intimacy with the crowd by playing personal, unflinching songs that don't leave people anywhere to hide. And he attacked on many levels, drawing the audience in with a voice that was alternately soft and warm, then high and desperate.

The two songs Chesnutt played from "Brute," his collaboration with Widespread Panic, fit in nicely, even though they're not as powerful as most of his solo work. That Chesnutt is like expensive Scotch (best straight) was most apparent when he performed songs that were included on "Sweet Relief II: Gravity of the Situation," a benefit tribute album that featured better known bands playing Chesnutt's songs. He delivered "Sad Peter Pan" with such aching loveliness that newcomers who only heard the Smashing Pumpkins' soggy cover version probably had trouble telling it was the same song.

Chesnutt's only self-indulgence during the show was tinkering with a tiny keyboard and tape recorder. He taped himself saying one of his trademark phrases, "Alright now motherfuckers," and played it over and over, shooting dimpled grins to his wife and bass player, Tina. Maybe Chesnutt was jus