Nine lives?

"Yeah, we were good that night," Chesterman reflects. "And you know what? We played the Kirkland a couple of weeks later, under more ideal circumstances, and we stunk up the place. We didn't think we sucked, we knew we sucked. We were the last band out of four, and we'd cleared the house by our third song. But I felt pretty good about that -- if we're gonna stink the joint up, I'm glad nobody's sticking around to see it."

I wasn't at that show so I can't vouch, but Chesterman's laugh indicates that he's enjoying the ride, bad nights and all. When we last spoke, a year and a half ago, he was preparing to re-enter the club circuit and wasn't sure he'd be welcomed back. His old band, Scruffy the Cat, had its spirited decline around 1990, and his interim band, the Harmony Rockets, hadn't taken off. His first solo disc, From the Book of Flames, was a batch of mostly low-key demos that weren't intended for release until musician/fan George Howard, who'd recently started the Slow River label, persuaded Chesterman to give it a try.

Things have gone rather well since then. Flames has sold a respectable 2500 copies -- a figure that should at least double now that Slow River is getting distribution through Rounder. And Chesterman has carved out a local niche that doesn't necessarily depend on his history. "I guess I was relieved, because I wasn't sure people would still be interested. Scruffy had sort of been a big deal to people -- maybe a superficial big deal, but we meant something. When people showed up again I breathed a sigh of relief and thought, `Well, at least I'm not starting over from dead zero.' "

The increased confidence shows on the just-released follow-up, Studebakersfield, which has better production and a stronger tunestack than the debut. His writing is a good deal more ballady than it was in Scruffy days, replacing the old punning and wordplay with a more straightforward approach. The one remade Scruffy number, "Time Never Forgets," is a heart-on-sleeve ballad that sounded odd in Scruffy's sets; it fits right in here. As usual, his vocal delivery is friendly and unaffected. When he announces on the opening track that "everybody calls me Mr. Blue," he's not playing for sympathy, just introducing himself. The only thing missing on Studebakersfield is the rocking side of his live shows -- a problem that goes back to Scruffy's fairly subdued studio albums -- but he promises that a full album of rockers is now in the works.

The current disc has its pop threads, but country music is most often the reference point. And Chesterman seems to be embracing a country image, in light of the album's title -- which brings to mind antique cars and Buck Owens's hometown -- and his cowboy-hatted look in recent photos. "I made a legitimate attempt at a country record this time, but it ain't a country record," he insists. "There's a pedal steel and a couple of okey-dokey songs on it, but it falls far short of my idea of country music. It turned into something far different and in some ways superior, but by no means was any of this shit crafted." Chesterman apparently has a hard time praising his own songs. I remind him that Letters to Cleo have covered Scruffy's "You Dirty Rat" on stage. He replies, "I'm glad they liked the song, but it's one of the worst things I ever wrote."

When Flames was released, Chesterman admitted going through a bad case of writer's block. Since there are 17 tunes on Studebakersfield and only the Scruffy number had been recorded before, one would assume he's recovered -- and one would be wrong, since every song on it is at least five years old. Chesterman claims he still hasn't got any new songs worth recording. "To be perfectly honest with you, the songs on Studebakersfield are my B-list, because I used up the A-list on the last album. I don't feel that these are especially good songs, but at least the musicians on the album found some beautiful ways to approach them. I've tried to push myself to write songs, but I learned a long time ago that it doesn't work. I can bang something out but it won't mean anything. At least the songs on the album are ones that I liked when I wrote them, so I can drag those out while I'm waiting for something to hit me."

SLOW RIVER

The label's success would indicate that anyone with a little money and a lot of smarts can carry it off. Then a member of the Lotus Eaters, Howard started the label with a thousand bucks and some enthusiasm. "It was a big leap of faith on Charlie [Chesterman]'s part to let me do his album," he now admits. "He had no reason whatsoever to trust me at the time. I was going to work my ass off, but he had no way of knowing that." Howard maintains a job in Rykodisc's art department, but Slow River is on its way to being a self-sufficient label. Chesterman's album turned a profit (mostly channeled into the follow-up) after the first 300 copies.

The label has some notable projects on tap, notably a new Sparklehorse EP and an album by Disque 9, who are Helium's Mary Timony and Keith Grady of the group Desk doing a left-field ambient project. The real news, however, is a double CD that should be one of the definitive local-scene documents: the WMBR-sponsored Pipeline compilation, featuring live material (mostly unreleased songs to boot) by the best-known bands who have played on the show -- and that covers the upper echelons of local rock. (A partial list: Morphine, Helium, the Bags, Buffalo Tom, Lou Barlow, the Cavedogs, the Zulus, Fuzzy, the Dambuilders, Big Dipper.) The project's being a benefit made the licensing less of a nightmare than expected; the set will be in the stores March 19.

ILLYRIANS UPDATE

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