Opening his sold-out show at Chicago's House of Blues, Butch Walker walked out in a t-shirt, jeans and a vest and sat behind the piano alone. Right from the first note, Walker wore his heart on his sleeve and brought immediacy to the show. On past tours, the meditative set would appear midway through the show, but tonight it was upfront and center for everyone to take note. As he pensively sung "ATL", "Passed Your Place" and "Joan", you could hear a pin drop, a rarity for the House of Blues where usually the rivers of alcohol would warrant shouts from the drunkest members. However, tonight was something different. I've only witnessed this once before at a Will Hoge show in 2005. A performer has to instill an acute impression to have this much attention. Walker relished the silence as he was able to deliver these songs without any obstruction. "Going Back / Going Home" proved to be just as wistful and insurrectionary as it is on the record with the crowd in impassioned anticipation for the break down rap portion which Walker nailed with a gleeful smile. Throughout the entire show, Walker appeared to be in high spirits and not even the downbeat nature of some of the songs could hide it. The entire performance was filled with a melancholy and primitive force.

The movement of the piano/acoustic set to the front of the show worked wonders for when the five-piece band joined Walker on stage for an electric set that went into overdrive with "Closer To The Truth" before the band spun the crowd with the grooves and sledgehammer riffs of "Uncomfortably Numb", "The Weight of Her" and "Vessels". Classics such as "Don't Move", "Laid/Taste of Red" and "Race Cars and Goth Rock" found the crowd unison singing with heaving guitars and a complete union between band and fan. Walker shifts between his back catalog and material from Sycamore Meadows with ease and always finds a way to meld the themes of unhealed heartbreak bringing the crowd to an emotional apex.

Unlike mot concerts these days, where the classics elicit the most fanatical reactions, Walker's 100-minute show featured most of his magnum opus, Sycamore Meadows, all of which was met with zealous enthusiasm. Walker has always been able to play outside of the box allowing for growth. With Sycamore Meadows, Walker has found a way to flip his music on its head. His naked vocals and brooding lyrics take center stage. His five-piece band allows these songs to come to life where tempos surge, emotions flow and the harmonies leap at you through a series of visceral lyrics and jolting guitars. The soul groove of "Ponce de Leon" is more dazzling live while the svelte "Here Comes The�" sets a crystalline picture of heartache and heartbreak in a way that no one else can conjure up quite like Butch Walker.

During the encore, Walker serenaded the audience with authentic audience sing-a-long cover of Elton John's "Tiny Dancer". Walker really let loose as he soared off the stage into the throes of the crowd where he sung all of the riff-rocking "Hot Girls In Good Moods". It is a delicate balance to write selfless and pensive songs and then be able to relinquish your inhibitions and throw all caution to the wind. When Walker leaped from that stage, it wasn't about show boating but about getting skin to skin with his fan base. This is an example of an artist pushing his limits and wanting to permanently tattoo the experience into your brain.

The significance of Butch Walker's indelible drive to satiate his fans is a unique one. While he hasn't forgotten his past, Walker is the rare artist who is about the journey ahead of him. He has burst back to life with a collection of songs that are his best with introspective lyrics paired with remarkable hooks. He's on the upswing with a tidal wave of rejuvenation and in concert he manages to paint a unique portrait of his life through his eclectic catalog of music. Being on stage performing to a crowd isn't enough; he needs to push those boundaries by taking his audience along for the ride. He wants them to be active participants in his art. To truly understand a fan, you have to be one. Most rock stars elicit a holier than thou attitude, but for Butch Walker he believes in making his audience feeling like they belong, which is just what his audience ordered.