Continuing my theme of “rock music isn’t dead,” Butch Walker is the epitome of rock and roll. The man has played in a glam-metal band and an alternative rock band, produced albums for artists such as Pink and Weezer and for the last decade has been putting out solo albums.
If you don’t regularly watch David Letterman, check out the musical guest from Feb. 17, Butch Walker and the Black Widows. The band, led by Walker, played their new song “Synthesizers,” which is such a classic sounding song it’s damn near universal. With clever lyrics and a sing-along chorus, this is the kind of song that hooks people on an artist.
I know I already wrote a “this artist saved my life” column, but I think it deserves an addendum. Walker’s music has also been a part of my life since I was about 12, and his influence is much more widespread than being my bad day band.
The first work of Walker’s I was exposed to was the Marvelous 3, when a friend passed me a copy of Math and Other Problems. Holy shit, was I not old enough to get that CD. “Appetite” roped me in, and just wouldn’t let go; with its bitter lyrics and hooky guitar I was instantly ready for more.
Compared with the last two records Walker has put out, the Marvelous 3 is a completely different person, a person looking for love and not finding it. The themes on these records may be bleak, but the music is so damn catchy, and even empowering.
Walker’s solo records are where he really does something new. The Marvelous 3 was a great band, and the songs that they wrote were amazing, but as a solo artist Walker has achieved a level of songwriting prowess that is nigh unbelievable.
Maintaining the biting wit of the Marvelous 3, but much more autobiographical and applicable to life, his solo records have a little bit of everything. From the straight-up rock of Left of Self-Centered to the alt-country sound of I Liked it Better When You Had No Heart, Walker has been writing albums that can be played front to back without batting an eyelash.
To that end, his latest record, The Spade, is absolutely amazing. Recorded live, in studio, the record has the fun and raw feeling of yesteryear, with banter in between verses, live starts and stops and a live quality to it that records just don’t capture anymore. For example, on the albums final track, “Suckerpunch,” between the second and third verse there is confusion as to what the words are. The chuckles as they try to figure out exactly what’s next make the album feel like a night out with friends, rather than some rock star selling you bullshit.
While Walker doesn’t have the writing credit on every single one of these songs (perhaps indicating that the Black Widows might be around for a while?), I can’t stress enough how unique the sound of this album is in the current era of music. Not to pull a Dave Grohl, but recording live in the studio is really the best way.
The effect that Walker’s music has had on my life is pretty obvious. If I get into a conversation about music with someone, it often comes to me talking about Walker’s music for more than half of the conversation. Even his more obscure projects, like the one-off band 1969 (Walker’s birth year) are worth checking out.
And if anyone can find a copy of the Floyd’s Funk Revival album Creamy, I want it. Or the self-titled album by the Floyd’s, I’d take that too.
Not everybody is a fan of Jeremy’s main man. If you hate Butch Walker, and would love to get in a fight about it, do us a favor and tell Jeremy at jgartzke@wisc.edu.
