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Butch Walker: I Liked It Better When You Had No Heart

Posted in Butch Walker, Music, Reviews with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on February 24, 2010 by jnagle4

Change is a recurring motif of Butch Walker’s career.  He began his career as a southern fried headbanger, morphed into a power pop prodigy, a stark singer/songwriter and a decadent glitter rock god. His last solo album, 2008’s Sycamore Meadows, was a mixture of the singer songwriter of Letters and Tom Petty inspired rock n’ roll.  I Liked You Better When You Had No Heart is similar, but has a much lighter tone.

The first single, “Trash Day,” is the blueprint for Walker’s new tone.  The music moves at a lively pace, with jangly acoustic and electric guitars.  Walker’s voice is light and friendly, and doesn’t have the bite of the earlier records.  As he’s gotten older, Walker has mellowed.  Los Angeles and Atlanta have always been recurring characters in his music.  LA has received much of the bile, while Atlanta is home.  This time, Walker just points out the stereotypes of LA and admits he no longer has anything to say about Atlanta, except that he can “hear the sanitary trucks from miles away.  The highlight of the song is the bridge, which has a lovely acoustic part in the middle.

Walker’s core sound hasn’t changed much since Sycamore Meadows, but the arrangements are much busier.  He has flirted with strings and horns before, but they are very prominent on I Liked You Better.  He shows off the new sound on “Pretty Melody,” which boasts a Wall of Sound production, complete with “Be My Baby” drumbeats.  The hook is huge, but the extraneous instruments get in the way of the most important instrument of all, Butch Walker.  He can’t let his vocals stretch out when he is competing with a string quartet.  “Stripped Down Version” features a violin and a horn section.  The mournful violin works, so the horn is unnecessary.  He should have gone with one or the other.

Although the arrangements have a lot going on, they don’t hinder his songwriting.  Butch has never sounded so relaxed.  It’s the sound of a man that is writing for his own personal satisfaction. The music never sounds forced.  The album was recorded quickly, but the songs weren’t rushed.  Although the choruses are still catchy, they no longer bludgeon you with hooks.  They sneak up on you, like the harmonies on “Stripped Down Version,” or the strong Brill Building influence of “They Don’t Know What We Know.”

Every Butch Walker album since Letters has had its share of controversy.  Old school fans complain that his new records don’t sound like the Marvelous 3.  They are right, but ReadySexGo came out a decade ago.  Butch Walker is much older and he has more life experience.  I Liked You Better When You Had No Heart doesn’t have the instant gratification of those early records, but give it a shot.  Butch Walker’s pop instincts are as strong as ever, but the choruses are just less bombastic.

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Interview: Butch Walker

Posted in Butch Walker, Interviews, Music with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 25, 2009 by jnagle4

butch-accordian

How’s the tour going so far?

It’s going really well. I really couldn’t ask for more. I am finally making money from touring and the fan base is bigger.  But the main one is my band is insanely good. I have the lineup I have always wanted. Really good singers. Everyone is a singer in their own bands, so that makes harmonies a big fat party.

You’ve written a lot of songs, do you have a basic idea of what your setlist will be before you embark?  Does it change every night?  How do you balance new songs with older songs?

I’m playing a lot from the new album but some older material too. I change up the set every night and have my band sing parts that I’d usually sing and the crowd loves it.

You played “Here Comes the…” on Ellen a few weeks ago, which was your solo television debut.  What was it like playing to an audience that wasn’t your crowd?  Did you feel hindered by the three and a half minute format?

The appearance led to a shitload of album sales, so it was cool to do.  Ellen was awesome. Plus Alecia and I are like besties and I loved being able to perform with her. I did cut a little from the front of the song, but it still sounded cool to me.

You’ve worked with Pink quite a bit, both as a producer and a duet partner.  What do you like best about working with her?  Why did you choose her to be your duet partner for “Here Comes the…?”

When she first heard the song we weren’t sure it was gonna be on the album, but she told me, “If it does make it I wanna sing it with you.” So we recorded it.

Sycamore Meadows came after one of the worst events of your life, the wildfire that destroyed your home.  Did you find it easier to write after that happened, or did it take a while?

The flood gates opened. I had some material written, but I felt like I had really said it all in my songs. It’s also just a natural progression of who I am and where I am musically.

One of the things that I found remarkable about the album is that while it was introspective, it was never depressing.  How did you manage to write about such a tragic event without self-pity?

I didn’t want the whole album to be depressing or one sound. We know those types of albums and I know better to create that. Plus I didn’t feel all that down after the fires. It was kind of like, “ok i didn’t need all that stuff anyway.” Now I’m back to living with more basics and it feels good.

Was “Song for the Metalheads” meant to be serious or ironic?

Serious. It’s for all the people who think they’ll come to my shows to hear some heavy shit being played.

You’ve embraced modern technology like Myspace, MP3s and Friends or Enemies, but your records also have an old-school feel.  Do you prefer the new technology to going to a record store and buying a physical product?

I’ve always collected records and I love the sound that they play. They sound way better than mp3s, but I’m realistic and have always embraced the technology end. I have no preference, but I prefer people support as much as they can in whatever format they choose

Myspace organizes a lot of one-off shows.  Just recently the Ben Folds Five reunited.  Do you ever see yourself doing a one-off show with the Marvelous 3?

I’m still good friends with those guys, they sometimes join me on stage in Atlanta. I’m never against anything, but right now it’s not they style for me.

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Butch Walker Week: Sycamore Meadows

Posted in Butch Walker, Essays, Music with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on March 21, 2009 by jnagle4

butch-meadows

Author’s Note: I lifted some of this essay from the review of Sycamore Meadows that I wrote earlier this year.

Although The Rise and Fall of Butch Walker and the Let’s Go Out Tonites failed to elevate Butch Walker to mainstream rock stardom, he remained in the public eye. He was the third judge on 2006’s Rockstar: Supernova and produced their record. He produced records for The Academy Is, Fall Out Boy and Avril Lavigne. He also continued to write his own music, working with longtime drummer, Darren Dodd and Academy Is guitarist, Michael Guy Chisslet in a side project called 1969. He was dropped by Epic, and decided to take a cue from Radiohead, releasing all his new music himself. Butch began work on his next solo album, but was interrupted.

In November of 2007, Butch Walker’s house burned to the ground. He lost all of his possessions, including the master tapes to every song he had ever written. In a heartfelt letter to fans, he asked them not to send money, but to send mementos; pictures, flyers, records. The record was delayed for several months before being released in November.

sycamore-meadows

Sycamore Meadows could have been an album of sad bastard music. The guy lost his house and everything he owned, so it would have been completely acceptable. If I lost my house, my record would probably end up being a cross between Blood on the Tracks, Berlin and This Year’s Model.


Sycamore Meadows is not an album of sad bastard music, which is why it is so remarkable. The record begins with “The Weight of Her,” in which Butch asks the listener to forget about the weight of the world on their shoulders. The arrangement is sunny and bright. On “Going Back…Going Home,” he recounts his entire life and asks God for 38 more years. You get the sense that Butch truly understands what is really important. He’s not a morose character, he’s a survivor.

Home is a recurring theme on Sycamore Meadows.  Walker talks about every place he has lived, from Los Angeles (”a town of cocaine fiends and glitter girls”), to New York (”guys wear sweaters, even in the warmest weather”), to his beloved Atlanta.  Atlanta plays a vital role in the structure of the record.  Walker peppers his melodies with strains of “Dixie” and bluegrass guitars.  Even when he is not overtly referencing the city, its presence is felt.

Walker’s love for Atlanta is the highpoint of the record.  “ATL” is a stark piano driven ballad about how he never realized how much he loved the city until he left.  When he talks about needing Atlanta, it’s not just because his family or friends live there.  To Butch Walker, Atlanta represents his old life, a life without complications or responsibility.  He wants to go back, but knows it can never be the same.

The album’s misstep is “Song for the Metalheads,” which comes off as self-conscious and slightly hypocritical. Someone obviously forgot about a tainted angel that came to wash his sins away.

With Sycamore Meadows, Butch took his personal tragedy and turned into a triumph. He didn’t take the easy way out by asking us to feel sorry for him, he just wrote about what he went through.

Key Tracks: “ATL,” “Here Comes the…,” “Ships in a Bottle,” “Closer to the Truth, Further From the Sky”

Tomorrow: Odds and Ends (At some point…the show is tomorrow night)

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Butch Walker Week: The Rise and Fall of Butch Walker and the Lets Go Out Tonites

Posted in Butch Walker, Essays, Music with tags , , , , , , , , , on March 20, 2009 by jnagle4

butch-lets-go-out

After the release of Letters, Butch Walker’s name started to creep into the mainstream. He had been a successful producer since the end of the Marvelous 3, but his clients became more high profile. He co-wrote the #1 single “My Happy Ending” with Avril Lavigne, who asked him to open for her on her world tour. He worked with Mötley Crüe drummer Tommy Lee on his solo album, Tommyland: The Ride. Even movie star and cocaine enthusiast Lindsay Lohan got the Walker touch. It seemed like Butch was on the verge of true rock stardom.

rise-and-fall

The Rise and Fall of Butch Walker and the Let’s Go Out Tonites is Butch’s sincere stab at rock stardom. He approached this record with a concept in mind and threw himself in full throttle. The opening riff of “Hot Girls in Good Moods” sets the tone for the entire record. Butch and his new backing band, The Let’s Go Out Tonites create a world of vapid celebutants, hipster hangouts and parties that end up on the pages of tabloids.


Butch surrenders completely to the concept and ultimately comes up short. Rise and Fall is my least favorite Butch Walker album, simply because he tried too hard to make that leap. It’s probably a bit unfair, because I compared it to Letters, which set the bar unrealistically high. My biggest problem with the album is the tone. I can never figure out if it was meant as Butch’s love letter to Los Angeles or a condemnation of the lifestyle. Butch writes himself into these scenes as a secondary character. It works, but I prefer his personal songs. I couldn’t relate to trust fund kids drinking their first beer, because I was never that cool.

Perhaps I’m being too harsh, because I like a lot of this album. “Bethamphetimine” is a damn near perfect affectation of Transformer-era Lou Reed. I especially like the way he coos “You’re pretty strung out for a girl” at the end of the chorus. If I were to make a list of my favorite Butch Walker songs, “The Taste of Red” would easily make my top ten. It sounds like it was written on the most exotic beach in the world with 50 scantily clad women in front of him. It might be Butch’s best sex song. “We’re All Going Down” is an epic ballad. Butch’s voice bends and breaks in ways God never intended. When he goes into the home stretch, you can see the veins in his neck popping out as he hits the high notes.

Even if parts of Rise and Fall didn’t work, you have to give Butch credit for trying something completely different. He could have easily released Letters II, but he didn’t. I’d rather listen to a guy trying too hard than listen to someone who isn’t trying at all. Butch Walker thought that Rise and Fall would be his ticket to rock stardom. Unfortunately it never happened. He was dropped by Epic. Butch Walker was an unsigned artist for the first time in a decade. For the first time, he was going to be in control of his professional destiny, but not before a personal tragedy changed his life forever.

Key Tracks: “Bethamphetimine (Pretty Pretty),” “The Taste of Red,” “We’re All Going Down,” “Hot Girls in Good Moods”

Tomorrow: Sycamore Meadows

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Butch Walker Week: Letters

Posted in Butch Walker, Essays, Music with tags , , , , , , , , on March 19, 2009 by jnagle4

butch-2004

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.

letters

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


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