I kicked off day three of my Fringe experience with Auburn native The Great Chernesky at Java’s.
There was a certain woodsy panache to his whole shtick, and I’d hate to call the music he plays — no, actually; he gives birth to it — as country, as the term calls to mind current music that doesn’t sound anything like Chernesky.
When I call his music country, I mean the guitar strumming, foot stomping, harmonic blowing, rambling country. I mean it in the good old rough-and-tough, homegrown (he is from Auburn, after all), down-in-the-dirt rebel folk, meets Americana, meets country country. The show was just Chernesky and his acoustic guitar, and his guitar player on electric, providing just the right amount of electric twang and solos that fleshed out the sound.
There was a dash of mirth in the song writing as well. To wit, one number had him assuring the audience he hadn’t banged …