I’m going to be completely honest right off the bat. This will not be an objective review. I can’t listen to Letters with an objective ear anymore. I have so much of myself invested within the grooves that I can’t listen to it without thinking about my life when it came out. That sounds incredibly self-centered, but Letters was the record that changed my life.
When Butch announced that Letters was available for pre-order, he was just another artist I liked. I loved Left of Self-Centered, but I was still primarily a hard rock guy. I pre-ordered Letters because I was expecting more of the same. Six weeks later I got a package in the mail, and there it was. The confident rock star on the front of Left of Self-Centered was replaced by a forlorn guy looking out of a car door. I didn’t take notice, because this was just another new release. I bought six records a week at the time. Then I pressed play.
When a person is moved by a work of art, it becomes more than a collection of songs, or words on a page, or a piece of celluloid. The moment an artist releases his work to the public it automatically becomes theirs. I think that’s the great thing about art, it becomes whatever you make it. The best art asks us to take stock of ourselves, and shapes us into the people that we become. That’s what Letters did for me. When it was released, I was going through some bad times. I’m not going to go into them here, but if you’ve known me for a long time, you know what I’m talking about. Butch was there when I needed him, constantly telling me that I was going to be OK. Life can suck sometimes, but I was going to pull through. I sat in my room for hours on end, listening to it over and over.
A lot of Butch fans didn’t know how to react to Letters. It was such a radical departure from The Marvelous 3 and Left of Self-Centered. After years of bombastic guitar riffs and big choruses, it was a big change. However, if you really listened to the lyrics, you realize that Butch was writing about the same stuff he always did, but with the volume turned down. By turning down the guitars and amping up the emotion, he became vulnerable. His music became more resonant. The resonance is etched on the face of every fan that has ever sung along to “Best Thing You Never Had” at one of his shows. Very few artists inspire such passion.
Butch did more than just release an incredible record. He also became a musical bigger brother, turning me on to Elvis Costello, Jellyfish, Joe Jackson and scores of others. I gained a new respect for songwriting and songcraft, which made me a better critic.
Letters turns five years old in August. I’ve changed a lot in the last five years. Butch has moved on too. He’s released two records in the last five years, and his songwriting has gotten more sophisticated. I’ve graduated college, started a successful freelance writing career and I’ve kissed a girl. As a critic, I can critique most of Butch Walker’s work with an objective ear. But whenever I hear the opening strum of “Maybe it’s Just Me,” I think of the nineteen year old kid in his room, wondering if it would ever get better. I think of listening to “Best Thing” with tears running down my face. I think of playing “Mixtape” for her. Letters isn’t just a record, it’s my life on wax.
Key Tracks: “Mixtape,” “Best Thing You Never Had,” “So at Last,” “Joan,” “Thank You Note/State Line”
Tomorrow: The Rise and Fall of Butch Walker and the Let’s Go Out Tonights