Butch Walker Week: Sycamore Meadows Live

After witnessing Butch Walker on The Rise & Fall� tour, I have to admit I had great conflict about his future. I never warmed to the album as much as I wanted and even though the live performances were blistering as ever, I wasn't sure what his next career move would be. Little did I know he would make what would arguably be his greatest work. The short of it all is that Walker went through some sort of personal tragedy in 2007 and then in November of that year his Malibu home (which he just moved in to with all of his personal belongings) was burned to the ground in the California wildfires. We didn't know it at the time, but Walker was experiencing a severe case of writer's block. When I spoke with him the following August, he told me "I had writer's block and felt like I had nothing left to say�until after the fire". Sycamore Meadows at this particular time had been delayed. Despite Walker moving on with his life, I could still sense a need to cleanse himself. I caught a few surprise shows in conjunction with his Lollapalooza performance and what I witnessed was a changed man. At the time, I felt as if he was still working through those demons trying to wrestle and purge his pain through his art. After Lollapalooza, he returned to the studio, re-recorded much of the record and it appeared a few months later. Sycamore Meadows is a dreamy and raw vista full of insurrectionary rage finding a fine balance between innocence and experience. When I saw him a few months later after the release of Sycamore, it was as if a weight had been lifted from him. Inside Schubas this past January, while he's clearly in a better spot, he still finds a way to find himself inside these twelve songs. As Walker took his seat on the Schubas stage, he informed the crowd "your city destorys me" with a glinting smile. Moments later Walker (accompanied by Gregory MacDonald) kicked off with "The Weight of Her", a gushing six-string throwback with all guns blazing. As Walker and Macdonald performed their instruments with ecstatic glee, the crowd came alive. The two previous shows found Walker reaching to his past in different chapters of his life, but on this evening he merely paged back a few pages instead of chapters and the emotional weight could be felt. Each show during the course of the week was distinctive, but this one was assisted by a mental union Walker still feels to the material. Sycamore Meadows was a largely restrained affair so what we heard at this show was a close reproduction of the actual album. 

"Going Back/Going Home" is a discreet life-affirming reflective song where he offers up insight into his entire life and career but at the end it becomes apparent that he indeed is in tune with himself and where he needs to go. It's true, you have to go home and acknowledge your past in order to go on with the future. This performance was pure bliss. "Here Comes The�" was done on piano with a muscular vocal with the audience filling in the blanks. "Ponce De Leon Ave" evoked a shade of soul despite having only Walker's voice and his guitar. "Vessels" was breathtaking with its burgeoning performance on a twelve-string acoustic. "Passed Your Place, Saw Your Car, Thought of You" found Walker on the organ providing bedroom intensity as he wavered between a delicate performance and a heart rendering vocal. "The 3 Kids in Brooklyn" was vociferous with a mandolin and heart-racing bass drum kick (provided by Walker). He even shook up the sequencing by performing a Patsy Cline song, "I've Got Your Picture". The story he told of his father playing country music when he was younger was illuminating and amusing. George Jones, Waylon & Willie were performed on a regular basis by his father and Walker admitted to dismissing all of it in favor of KISS. Butch was plugged in for this one and the performance was eye popping as Walker appreciates and has an adoring appreciation for the art of songwriting and did his best to evoke those who have come before. 

The evening's high spot was "Ships in a Bottle", done on electric guitar with barely a hint of echoy reverb, adding to the sensation of the lingering vocal. His delivery was wrenching as if he was wrestling with a demon right on the stage in front of us as he painted broad and vivid pictures. This was without question, his greatest vocal performance of the entire four night stand. Whether the delivery of the material was straightforward or not, it didn't matter. The songs leapt out at you waving you down to take notice. Of the three complete albums Walker performed, this was his most recent and as a result, it houses emotions and stories that are still raw. These songs aren't distant memories, but feelings he can still reach out and touch with little issue. 

Sycamore Meadows is an endearing record because of the brutal truth expinged by Walker, standing on top of a confessional tearing himself apart for all to see and judge. It's a tricky feat, yet one that is hard to criticize, because when someone bares their soul, you can't pick at them, because they're not hiding anything. Sycamore Meadows features an artist at a crossroads with his foot on the gas pedal full speed ahead towards redemption with a unified and assertive collection of songs and the beauty of it all is that his audience finds themselves deeply entrenched in these songs as well. When this happens, it's more than mere entertainment, but therapeutic. 
 

Anthony Kuzminski is a Chicago based writer and Special Features Editor for the antiMusic Network and his daily writings can be read at The Screen Door and can be contacted at thescreendoor AT gmail DOT com.

Butch Walker Week: Sycamore Meadows Live

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