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this dude performed with OutKast at the SMOKIN GROOVES concert.... check him out...

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Music critics and celebrities adore CODY CHESNUTT, but he baffles most record companies. After 11 years, this eclectic rock 'n' roller is finally bringing his unique brand of funk to a record store near you.

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www.vibe.com


Cody Chesnutt’s The Headphone Masterpiece is the greatest rock album you’ve never heard—an album with so much spiritual freedom and uncompromising vision that every major and minor label in the industry has passed on it.

Yet, like his Lord and savior, Jesus of Nazareth, Chesnutt, 32, has a fervent following. Disciples from Atlanta to Los Angeles have gotten hold of his elusive debut album and heard nothing but truth upon listening to its 36 tracks. They are wildly passionate about his music. They will punch you in your face for comparing Chesnutt’s singular style of rock to Lenny Kravitz’s. MTV caught wind of the growing hype and profiled Chesnutt, even though he had yet to release a CD. Sexy singers like Nelly Furtado and Kelis sing his praises. The Roots decided to pay homage and re-record Chesnutt’s ode to infidelity, “The Seed,” for their forthcoming album. “There’s so much posturing in hip hop when guys talk about women,” says ?uestlove of the Roots. “Cody’s not afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he’s still got that Southern pimp shit with him.” Soon, with the September 24 release of Chesnutt’s double album on his own label, Ready, Set, Go!, the gospel that is The Headphone Masterpiece will be on every sinner’s lips and in their hearts.

I ain’t no rapper / Baby.” It’s an affirmation, spoken over a crackly instrumental like radio static. If that’s the case, what is he? Rock star, god, or, as his cousin and manager Donray Von likes to say, rock ’n’ roll mafia? “We made a decision back in the early ’90s to go this way,” says Von, 31, who runs Ready, Set, Go!, punctuating “this way” with a dramatic hand gesture to the left.

Chesnutt was once known as Antonious Thomas, a bare-chested, well-tapered crooner from Atlanta’s Chestnut Street. All six-pack and combat boots. “I was smoothed out, a Jodeci and R. Kelly mix,” he says. His single, “Young Dr. Feelgood,” released on a tiny indie label in 1991, was straight R&B—mindless sex, gospel runs, posing and primping. But even though he was half naked and unoriginal, his talent as a songwriter was evident. It wasn’t long before he decided to put his skills to better use.

Finally indulging in his lifelong rock ’n’ roll fantasies, Chesnutt relocated to L.A. with Von in 1992 and founded a band, the Crosswalk. They recorded Venus Loves a Melody, an album of powerful, socially conscious rock ballads. “I was listening to the second Brit invasion, early Oasis, Verve, Radiohead,” Chesnutt says. The best songs by the Crosswalk, “Brand New” and “16,” are about a recovering heroin addict and a victim of gang rape. The album isn’t as personal as The Headphone Masterpiece, but it’s a whole lot better than anything Creed has recorded in its entire career. Unable to come up with a marketing plan for the too-edgy Crosswalk, Hollywood Records unceremoniously dropped them, leaving the masters in Chesnutt’s hands. Then the band broke up, and he was left with no option but reinvention.

Chesnutt created Masterpiece in total isolation, in his small bedroom, with one microphone, an organ, a guitar, bass, and keyboard. His only monitor was a pair of Sony MDR-7506 headphones, so as not to wake his and Von’s ever-accommodating roommate, a dude named Phil. (The album is supposed to sound best when played through that particular headset.) In a period of intense introspection, Chesnutt rediscovered his faith in his musical calling.

“I woke up, went to the organ, and played these chords,” he says of “Serve This Royalty,” a majestic pimp anthem. “It felt like gospel.” On the song, he sings, “Thank you Jesus / For my mama / Thank you bitches / For my money….” From that cut to “Bitch I’m Broke,” then back again to a suite of songs about his wife and the joys of monogamy, Masterpiece is equal parts irony and sincerity, straight guitar rock and bass-driven funk. But always there are the simple and honest lyrics. “How was I supposed to know / That you could get inside me…that you and I / Would make so much sense from the start….” The album is everything that many roots and retro artists have reached for, pure and straightforward; yet it is thoroughly modern in its outlook, inventive and unsentimental, with both feet in the future.

Record companies have nixed the work mostly because they mistake the 36 songs for a demo and expect him to redo it, to add gloss where there is now grit. They’d like the drums rearranged, the vocals redone. “I refuse to re-record it—that defeats the purpose. What about the experience I had in my bedroom? To go back to the studio, I’d be chasing something,” says Chesnutt. “If you’re listening to it and you love it, then it’s already done what it’s supposed to do.” Look no further for your salvation; the master has arrived.

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