Freak of the Week at Ram\’s Head Live

In 1999, Butch Walker’s power pop band, The Marvelous 3, scored a top five hit with “Freak of the Week,” a song about an indie band getting a taste of fame.  When the song fell off the charts, the band was promptly forgotten by their label, and left to wallow in Buzz Ballads purgatory.

When Walker played “Freak of the Week” during his acoustic set at Ram’s Head Live, the crowd roared.  Not because it was the song they came to hear, but because it has become a rarity.  Butch Walker is no longer the lead singer of The Marvelous 3, but his own man.  The Marvies and Left of Self-Centered certainly introduced some of the crowd to Butch Walker (myself included), but nobody was there to huddle under a warm blanket of nostalgia.

Butch Walker has a few well-known songs, but not a signature.  Because of this, he can play what he wants. He can open the show with an acoustic set, or he can storm the stage with his Les Paul blazing.  Like any artist with a robust body of work, there are a few songs you can generally count on, but nothing is a sure thing.  That is what makes a Butch Walker show special.  Even “Cigarette Lighter Love Song,” the closest thing he has to a signature song, gets played with.  The first time I saw him, he did it with a full band, like on the album.  The second time, he was on the piano.  At Ram’s Head last week, he scrapped the instrumentation entirely, performing the song a cappella.

Hardcore fans often lament the fact that Butch Walker isn’t a bigger star, that he should be selling out theatres instead of playing clubs.  He should.  However, watching Butch at Ram’s Head, I realized that if he had a huge hit single, he would have to make certain concessions.  The loose, freewheeling structure of his show would be gone.  He would have to play the hits, and concentrate on what the fans of that single wanted to hear.  They wouldn’t want to hear the evolution of Butch as a songwriter, which is what the crowd at Ram’s Head was lucky enough to get.  They didn’t get a Butch Walker show, they got his musical history; from the guitar duel of “Freebird”, to the Marvelous 3, to The Black Widows.  Butch wouldn’t have it any other way.

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.

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.

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 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)

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.

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

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

After the disappointing sales of ReadySexGo!, the Marvelous 3 called it quits. Elektra planned to keep them under contract without promoting them. To avoid purgatory, the band decided to split and remain friends. Butch, Jayce and Slug had played together in various incarnations since high school. For the first time in his professional life, Butch Walker was alone. He was in demand as a producer, working with bands like SR-71, Injected, Sevendust and Val Emmich. He was offered a solo record deal by Arista head L.A. Reid, and released Left of Self-Centered in July of 2002.

Left-of-Self Centered is Butch Walker in his Todd Rundgren phase. He not only wrote every song on the record, he played every instrument except for drums. Sonically, it’s not far removed from the Marvelous 3. In fact, it’s almost a sequel to ReadySexGo! The guitars are bright and fizzy, the drums boom and the choruses soar. The production is spotless, which makes it sound slightly dated. Arista Records was the top pop label in the country at the time, and Left of Self-Centered sounds like most of their records. There is a lot of programming, some DJ scratching and electronics. Fortunately, the production never gets in the way of the songcraft.

I haven’t listened to Left of Self-Centered in a while, and it’s weird to hear these songs in their original context. That sentence may be hard to understand for you Butch Virgins out there, so I will attempt to explain. Many of these songs remain in Butch’s regular rotation, most notably “Sober,” “Diary of a San Fernando Sexx Star” and “Far Away From Close.” Of those three songs, “Far Away From Close” is the only arrangement from the record that stays in tact. ”Diary” and “Sober” have been recast as acoustic ballads. “Sober” works both ways, but I never understood “Diary’s” power until I heard Butch play it on the piano for the first time. It’s a decent rock song, but a transcendent ballad.

Letters will always be my favorite Butch Walker record, but Left of Self-Centered will always hold a place in John Nagle lore, because it’s the record that brought me to the dance. I saw it in Best Buy, and it was only ten dollars. I didn’t expect much, which is why I was so blown away by it. Left of Self-Centered was the combination of everything I’d loved before, but also pointed the way to my future. Like Hey!Album, underneath the chirpy guitar riffs, there is a lot of depth. “Trouble” is about an unwanted pregnancy, “Diary” is about crystal meth, “If” is about cancer. The guitars and the choruses make it palatable, but the messages keep you engrossed. Once again, the label didn’t quite know how to market Butch. Left of Self-Centered triple flipped and then flopped. Butch was dropped by Arista, but quickly picked up by Epic. On Epic, he would release his masterpiece.

Key Tracks: “Sober,” “Far Away From Close,” “If (Jeannie’s Song),” “Alicia Amnesia”

Tomorrow: What Letters means to me

I’m going to start with The Marvelous 3, because for me, that’s when Butch really became Butch. His songwriting talent really came to the forefront. The Floyds have their merits, but Butch really spread his wings with The Marvies.

The Marvelous 3 are:

Butch Walker- vocals, guitar

Jayce Fincher- bass, backup vocals

Mitch “Slug” McLee- drums

Math and Other Problems, Deep South Records 1997

The first Marvelous 3 album, released independently in 1997. The Floyds had just broken up, and The Marvelous 3 rose from its ashes. Some fans claim that this is the best record the band ever made. I disagree. It’s a great album, but the band was trying to find their sound. Butch was still trying to find his voice as a songwriter. The Elvis Costello influence is overt, especially in “In the Beginning of Relationships.” Butch’s talent was coming into view though. “Appetite,” “Leopard Print” and “The Last Sleep” hint at the greatness yet to come.

Key Tracks: “Appetite,” “The Last Sleep,” “Leopard Print”

Hey!Album, Elektra Records 1999

The Marvies’ major-label debut. Hey!Album is my favorite Marvelous 3 album and one of my top ten records of all time. The thing that makes Hey! so special is that it’s a very dark record. On the surface, it seems like a bright, peppy slice of power pop. The guitars are fuzzy and happy, the choruses soar and the harmonies are tight. The lyrics tell a different story. Hey is a breakup album, and underneath the treacle lies bitterness and pain. On “You’re So Yesterday,” Butch promised himself on New Year’s Day that he would wash his ex away. However, she keeps creeping up. On “Every Monday,” he still thinks of her. On “Write it On Your Hand,” she keeps calling him giving him hell about stupid things. He makes several pleas for her to let him go, but keeps crawling back. The band balances out the heavier emotional moments with lighter ones. “Freak of the Week,” the band’s only hit single, is a catchy little number about the fickle nature of stardom. “Vampires in Love” is a sweet song about teenage romance, and “Indie Queen” has a nice Wall-of-Sound effect. One of the things that makes it so special is the pacing. The band balanced the fast songs and the slower songs perfectly. Take “Mrs. Jackson,” a slightly paranoid song about lust. They follow it with “Vampires in Love,” so the mood doesn’t get too somber. There’s not a bum song in the bunch. It’s a forgotten classic of the decade.

Key Tracks: “Every Monday,” “Mrs. Jackson,” “Vampires in Love”

ReadySexGo!, Elektra Records 2000

ReadySexGo is the Marvies’ third and final album. This is the Marvelous 3’s unabashed love letter to cock rock. From the opening riff of “Little Head” to the bombastic “Cigarette Lighter Love Song,” it never stops. Many fans prefer it to Hey! I love ReadySexGo!, but there are a few songs that don’t really work. “Sugarbuzz” tries a little too hard to be ironic and the melody of “Supernatural Blonde” never really clicks. However, the good moments are exceptional. “Beautiful” is one of the best songs Butch has ever written, and I’m surprised it hasn’t entered his solo setlist. “Radio Tokyo” is pure pomp rock from beginning to end. “This Time” contains one of my favorite lines ever: “Your eyes are blue and starry with your hand on a Ferarri.” The final “nah-nah-nahs” in Radio Tokyo don’t ask you to put your fist in the air, they force you. It should have been the biggest rock record of 2000, but Elektra didn’t know what to do with them. Rather than be slaves to the label, the Marvelous 3 broke up, leaving Butch Walker to begin his journey as a solo artist.

Key Tracks: “Radio Tokyo,” “Beautiful,” “Cigarette Lighter Love Song”

Tomorrow we will tackle Butch’s solo debut, Left of Self-Centered.

Tonight’s blog was going to be another entry in my TRL series, but I got something more interesting in the mail today.  Ladies and gentlemen, brace yourselves.  I finally got Butch Walker’s new album in the mail.  Try to contain yourself.

With every new Butch album, I face an ethical dilemma.  Do I abstain from reviewing the new album because he is my favorite artist, or do I review the new album and try to remain somewhat objective?  I pondered this for several hours before I realized that I would not be able to keep my big mouth shut.  So, wish me luck as I attempt to be objective in my review of Sycamore Meadows.

Last November, Butch lost his house and all of his possessions to the California brushfires.  Not surprisingly, Sycamore Meadows is about starting over.  I thought this would be an introspective, somber record considering the subject matter.  However, Sycamore Meadows isn’t somber.  In fact, it’s downright hopeful.  Walker has experienced tremendous loss, but he is moving on.

Butch Walker- The Weight of Her

The mood of the record is established on the opening track, “The Weight of Her.”  The song is reminiscent of early Tom Petty, with lots of jangly guitars and a strong backbeat.  The lyrics are about a breakup, but this time Walker isn’t letting the loss get to him.  The pace slows down a bit on “Going Back/Going Home,” a twangy country number about appreciating what you have.  Under normal circumstances, it would be a corny cliché, but it fits the theme of the record perfectly.  The half-spoken part in the middle where he talks about his life is a nice touch.

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.

Sycamore Meadows is a great record, but there are a few problems.  “Ponce De Leon Avenue” is a good ’70s-styled soul tune, but the arrangement is a too busy.  The song is awash with horns, and they get in the way of the melody.  The biggest issue is “Song For the Metalheads.”  Butch comes off like the pretentious hipsters that he mocks in “Three Guys From Brooklyn,” singing about how people who enjoy metal are afraid to change.  If this song is meant to be taken seriously (which I hope it isn’t), then Butch is not only a hypocrite, he will also alienate a large portion of his fanbase.  Aren’t we forgetting something?

Fortunately, these are minor issues.  Sycamore Meadows is another great addition to Butch Walker’s catalog.  His songwriting has hit a new level of sophistication.  I am left with the question I have everytime Butch releases something new: Where is he going to go from here?