Sycamore Meadows, Butch Walker
I’m not qualified to discuss Butch Walker. His talent, to be frank, intimidates me. His live shows reinstate my belief in the idea that rock n roll really can save us all.
I could pretend to be objective. I could attempt to leave my opinions by the wayside and dissect his album note-by-note, telling you that this is his most mature studio album to date. But we’re all friends here and I’m not going to lie to you: Butch Walker would have to fuck up pretty badly for me to hate anything he does. Ever.
That is an earned compliment. There was a time when I didn’t know anything about him. Then I was instructed to see him play live at the Celebrity in Las Vegas.
On Tuesday, 11.11.08, Butch releases his fourth studio album, Sycamore Meadows, named after the street he lived on until last year’s wildfires ravaged California and consumed his home, his studio, and all of the masters for the barrage of songs that you may or may not know he was the mastermind behind.
The songs on Sycamore Meadows take on a more folk-rock approach than any of his previous albums do, but the rock is never lost in his storytelling. (It’s still a motherfucking Butch. Walker. album, if that’s what you’re wondering.) Originally from Georgia and now one of the most respected independent musicians in the business, Walker walks the fine line between being stereotypically Southern and being one of the baddest motherfuckers in the record business (which isfucked.com, if you haven’t heard. See: therecordbusinessisfucked.com if you’re feeling any level of confusion).
If you’re the type of music lover who needs to test drive an album before you buy it, we understand. And so does Butch Walker. Sycamore Meadows is currently streaming over on his imeem page at http://www.imeem.com/butchwalker.
If you’re feeling especially amped, you can pre-order the album at http://gomerch.com/PRE-ORDER/butchwalker for $20. You also get a bad ass t-shirt and a poster. For free.
Even if you hate his music, you can’t deny the coolness of a free t-shirt. Hell yeah.