Charlie McAlister's unique, crazy sound
by John Sewell
In the realm of underground music, there is no shortage of enigmatic performers. Every few years there is invariably a new character arising from the tormented genius category who somehow manages to become a marginal hero among the hipper-than-thou set.
Generally, these artistes are favored for comedic value instead of truly being appreciated for their creative expression. Sure, quasi-celebrities such as Wesley Willis, Tiny Tim, and Larry "Wildman" Fischer are sort of known and can usually draw a crowd. But being laughed at and relegated to the backlot of the sideshow arena is far from being accepted.
Really, what differentiates the wheat from the chaff of enigmatic performers is the folk art approach. Whether these oddball types are driven to create by divine inspiration or the torment of personal demons is debatable. But all of the great enigmas are ceaselessly compelled to produce large amounts of work—and it's not because of the potential for public success or money. Square pegs like Jad Fair, Daniel Johnston, and Eugene Chadbourne are revered for their artistry, not just because they're "weird."
Charleston's Charlie McAlister is a performer who is gaining attention in the underground after 15 years of unrelenting work. With over 70 recordings to his credit (released in every imaginable format, mostly on cassette), McAlister is finally receiving some credit for his efforts. Yes, McAlister is a strange one. But there is a force of intellect behind the madness that gives his recordings a playful, endearing quality. He is quickly becoming a darling of the DIY set as a result of his more accessible recordings like Sardine In A Bastard Suit (Plastic Duck recordings) and his magnum opus, Mississippi Luau (Catsup Plate Records).
It's practically impossible to describe McAlister's music. Obvious comparisons like Captain Beefheart, Fair, and Chadbourne are acceptable. But beneath the satire and dadaism of the songs, there is actually a strong fiber of traditional songwriting that follows in the storytelling tradition of Doc Watson or Hank Williams Sr.
"It's just simple music that has no bearing to anything else," says McAlister. "It's just simple. I get the point across easily. I try to combine a lot of things. Instead of trying to be like a noise band or a pop band, I try to be more in between. I just get to the point right away.
"I write the songs very fast. I just lay 'em down as they come right out of my head. Probably a lot of the stuff is thematic. But basically, I just try to combine the elements of total chaos and a song all in one, not letting either element take over. I don't know if that always works, though."
McAlister likes to keep his performances special by not playing too often. "I try to keep my playing live to a minimum because I'd hate to get burned out on doing it," he says. "Every show to me is a wild party—a time for me to settle down and be off work. The shows are my time to relax and have a memorable occasion. So I only play like four times in a year."
A Charlie McAlister performance is more than just a musical event. It's kind of a mix of music, performance art, a medicine show, and a three-ring circus. There is plenty of room for improvisation, but the show follows a general theme and is not just a free-for-all.
Asked exactly where he gets his ideas, McAlister recites a litany of enigmatic conceptual performers. "I like situationist stuff from the '60s, dadaism, and absurd theatre," he says. "I'm sort of familiar with some Sub-genius people, too. I like a lot of that kind of thing.
"If you were to try and pin it down, I'd compare it to Tristan Tzara or Genet or something. We'll just call it experimental. That's a stupid word. Actually, I guess experimental is the right word. I was invited to play at the Experimental Music Festival in Olympia, Washington this year, and it was great fun. They asked me to play, and I was thinking, gee, am I experimental? It went over great. It was one of the best shows I've ever done because it was more acceptable there."
In some cases, members of McAlister's audience have not gotten the joke and reacted angrily to his performance. '"Every so often I'll have a bad experience. The last time that happened I was in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I was playing in some place—it was kind of a punk rock bar. And we got up in our costumes and the guy who ran the place sort of took offense to the whole thing. He threw us out.
"Sometimes what I do causes problems for the bar owners because I like to just go wild and get the audience wild. A lot of times the wildness causes problems and I get shut down, or there're fights or whatever. There's a lot of fire and steam and throwing things in the shows. But now that people are beginning to take an interest in me, they sort of know what to expect and are more laid back. It's a lot more fun that way."
Don't be frightened off by these tales of overly rambunctious audience response. Underneath the wild exterior lies an ironic humor and an (albeit fractured) artistic sensibility. And more and more, people are beginning to understand and appreciate the depth and value of McAlister's skewed musings.
"A certain group of people actually follow me around a little bit these days," he says. "Because, when people see the live show, they tend to have fun and want to come back. Once you experience it, you'll see the ideas behind it."
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