The doctor is out

Chris Van Kleek's wacky world

by John O'Neill

From the 'burbs of Princeton a flyer arrived in December announcing the engagement of Dr. Chris Van Kleek at the Bean Counter on a Saturday night. Trumpeting "funny, original folk" that promises to make you "laugh out loud guaranteed," we were instantly intrigued. Maybe it was that picture of Van Kleek, standing with his guitar, suitcoat, and sneakers, that suggested this guy is a little bit off. Maybe it was the fact he billed himself as Dr. Chris Van Kleek, a psychologist during the 9 to 5 world. And what could be better than a singing psychologist? More likely, it was the idea that someone was actually strumming folk music without mentioning feeling alone on frosty, winter mornings or warbling on about an ill-fated train. We held our breath and waited for the arrival of his CD, A Sick Sense of Humor.

And when our red-letter day arrived, it was all we'd hoped for and a little bit more. A Sick Sense of Humor is nine songs of varying goofiness, ranging from the glories of Prozac and Phen Fen, acid flashbacks, multiple personalities, monkeys flying out asses, Jack Kevorkian, and every term for "crazy" you could find in the thesaurus. "I think most people find folk flat-out boring," our hero relates. "I started out playing more traditional, normal songs. I'm a psychologist, and I do have a sick sense of humor. I did `Vitamin P' [as in Prozac] and got a good response. I was inspired to continue writing. It was more fun than performing ballads and love songs. What I try to do is write stuff where people hang on the lyrics."

Van Kleek got his start more than 20 years ago playing in Grain of Salt, a local bluegrass outfit that also featured WCUW jock Ron Carlson. Since then, music had become an off-and-on affair until this past year when the doctor took up residency at the Bean Counter.

"Performing is therapeutic. I have my once a month at the Bean Counter, and I bring [percussive] instruments along, and we have a little party. It's fun seeing how people react to it."

A night out with Van Kleek should resemble something along the lines of Tom Lehr meeting Jonathan Richman at the Smothers Brothers' house for a stiff belt. Oh sure, it's not the most sophisticated songwriting in the world, but that's the beauty of it. This is simple singalong fun, kinda like when Mac Davis went out into the audience during the middle of his TV show and goofed around with phrases people would toss out at him. With lyrics like "`The Shot Heard Round the World' was shot from here/We got a lot of Irish so we got a lot of beer" (from "The Massachusetts Song"), you pretty much know what you're getting. If you can't dig it, you may want to check over your shoulder for the offending broom handle.

"I write most of my lyrics while I'm driving around in my car from nursing home to nursing home," reveals Van Kleek. "Now they've heard my songs. The nurses have the CD and know it."

The most refreshing aspect of Van Kleek, besides his slightly warped world view, is that even he's well-grounded in the importance of his music.

"You might want to send an apology card with it," he says with a chuckle about distributing copies of his release. "The whole idea behind what I'm doing is to keep laughing, because in the end what else is there?"

Dr. Chris will hold his next group therapy session at 8:30 p.m. this Saturday, February 28, at the Bean Counter. Donations accepted.

Local buzz

The word about town this week is that Little Big Wheel, Wormtown's answer to the recent alterna-country uprising (they were featured last Friday on Channel 3 news) have been in contact with a New York-based major label. Although the group were tight-lipped about any discussions, they confirmed there has been an exchange. Good luck, God bless, get a good lawyer, hang on to your wallet!

The latest reunion floated is a get-together of the Pale Nephews for what could be a more-than-one-show deal. The Time Beings, rumored to be against the ropes due to geography and fatherhood, have decided to stick it out. They made giant inroads into Boston during the past year (at one point they were booked almost every weekend) and have a European distro deal lined up for their last CD. Chillum's new/old CD, 1997, is now available in record stores with four bonus cuts as is the freshman release of the Meltaways, who feature former Flat Stanley drummer Ron Belanger. Finally, can anyone tell us why Big Al Downing, a real, live, music legend all over the globe, who also happens to reside right next door in Leicester, isn't being booked in town? Someone should drop a quarter.