Sound Effects
by G. Maiello

Chris Whitley at the Bowery Ballroom on June 1

A winding career path has taken Chris Whitley from acclaim to rejection and back again.

After receiving high praise for his 1991 debut album, “Living With the Law,” Whitley took an abrupt turn four years later, ditching modern acoustic blues for a grungy, post-industrial wall of noise on “Din of Ecstacy.”

Fans and critics cringed.

But Whitley bounced back, first in 1997 with “Terra Incognita,” a deliberately understated yet intense and visceral mix of folkish blues, rock, and soul.

A year later came “Dirt Road,” which swapped the mesmerizing groove for a spare acoustic sound.

Whitley, who spends a lot of his time on the road, is back with a live collection that continues his march toward simple, hypnotic soloing. He’ll be performing some of those songs at the Bowery Ballroom on June 1.

Whitley not only has grown as an artist, he has become a seasoned professional. He has even come to understand why fans once turned on him.

“I was really naive, in terms of the business,” Whitley said recently. “I didn’t know that people would be as shocked [by “Din of Ecstacy”]. I liked the album a lot. The songs were there for me.”

For someone raised on Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix, the “grunge” tag was difficult to take.

“At times I have felt bitter about it,” he said. “But finally, I realized: As long as I can still do stuff and like it myself, that’s cool. I have a strong enough following around the country and in Europe to support me.”

A former street-corner busker, Whitley has become exclusively a solo act. He spends nearly as much time helping produce the music and arrange the orchestration as he does writing lyrics.

It works for him not only because of the quality of songs he writes but thanks to a talent to make his guitar sound like more than simple accompaniement. It’s not your typical white-boy blues, but it grabs you in much the same way.

“I like the records I’ve made,” the Texas-born New Yorker said. “They’re all from entirely different parts of my life.”

Whitley likes guitar feedback, yet the notes bend without breaking. He’s also able to turn his biggest weakness - an aching, tortured voice - into a strength. His choruses can become mantras, repeating their way into your memory.

Whitley’s spare, bleak story songs explore alienation, addiction, and the regret that often follows indulging in destructive impulses. Having grappled with addictions to drugs and alcohol himself, he understands the things that, he said, “kept me from feeling.”

The ups and downs have brought him perspective.

“I’m especially pleased that I don’t fall into the singer-songwriter zone,” he said. “That title paints the picture of an intellectual elitist.”

Still, he remains ambitious.

“I’m not into being a cult figure,” Whitley said. “I don’t feel like I’m so different that only different people should like it. But I am a musician. I want to do things within my own values, but I’d also like to reach more people.”

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