Kenny Butterill
Just a Songwriter
Hayden's Ferry Records
By Al Kunz
 I
like being just a songwriter
Don't fit the showbiz scene
I don't deal well with the road
I'd die in the Nashville machine
As I was starting this review, a DJ friend sent me a link
( www.hitsongscience.com ) for a company that has purportedly
developed technology that can measure the "hit potential"
of a song using "mathematical patterns." Poke around
the site and you'll see claims that attempt to refute my initial
thought that this is just the next step in the strip-malling
of U.S. radio. They don't claim to have all the answers, conceding
that promotion and expert opinion matter too. Missing almost
totally is any mention of lyrics, only discussing them in the
context of the "rare" song that didn't fit their expected
patterns, but somehow still became a hit. I can't refute that
the musical melody matters since only about a thousandth of my
music collection is sung a capella, but I remain skeptical that
this new "science" is a good thing. Thinking about
this article while analyzing the lyrics of "Just a Songwriter"
sent my thoughts wandering down a long, tangential path as I
considered the difference between good art and what some would
argue is good business. I'll spare you the full play-by-play.
Chances are your thoughts will go down the same path as you consider
Kenny Butterill's story.
After a cut from Butterill's last disc, No One You Know,
went to the top of one of the European Country charts, the questions
started. People were surprised that he'd had this initial accomplishment
without touring and asked why Butterill didn't at least go on
tour to help maximize the record's success. His response was
holing up at home in the mountains above Santa Cruz, California
and writing this tune, a songwriter's manifesto that explains
his place (or lack thereof) in the music business. Surfing the
web site of almost any songwriter at any level, you'll discover
a link to their gig page. Those with delusions of grandeur label
this page "tour" even if they've only got two gigs
that month (one a coffee house in Denton, the other busking on
a street corner in Dallas). If Kenny Butterill ever performs
in public, you'll find no evidence of this on his web site. Instead,
as the song explains, he follows the "unworn path"
of sitting at a table "in the loft of the barn" where
he "dips paintbrushes" into his soul and blends music
with words. As the song makes clear, Butterill is "in this
for the art," not for a showbiz career.
After finishing this batch of songs the Canadian ex-pat hit
the road for less than an hour, traveling only as far as a studio
in the San Jose suburb of Los Gatos where most of the disc was
recorded. This is the point where Butterill's reclusive musical
existence comes closest to intersecting with the showbiz life
he's vetoed, as a series of musicians dropped in. Former Commander
Cody sideman Norton Buffalo plays harmonica. Fellow Canadians
like Juno Award winning bluesman Ray Bonneville and Eaglesmith
mandolin player Willie P. Bennett also lent a hand.
The best Americana artists are sometimes tough to pigeonhole.
That's the case here where even Butterill's own description of
a song's genre takes a shotgun approach. For example there's
an "acoustic country folk blues shuffle" with a J.J.
Cale-ish vocal on "Vegetarian Dead Cow Blues" and a
"slow jazzy blues ballad" with John Lee Sander's mood-setting
saxophone on "Making Love in L.A." But guitarist Billy
Don Burns' portrayal of the alt-country "My Austin Angel"
as a "SxSW same time next year song" is the most descriptive
of them all.
My Austin Angel, she could fly
Femme Fatale, with no ties to bind
She made me laugh, and want to flirt
Knew what to say, to make it work
Every year, we'd steal away
Lose ourselves, then go our ways
Just good lovin', for a day
My Austin Angel, used to like it that way
Hopefully the point is obvious. If your goal as a songwriter
is saying something worthwhile it makes sense to start with words
that means something, then add music that complements and enhances
the message. Starting with melody (make sure it fits the mathematical
patterns for a hit), then adding words can (and no doubt has)
worked for lots of great songs. But it also leads to nonsense
like Phil Collins "Sussudio." I don't know Kenny Butterill's
songwriting methods. Whether it started with music or lyric he
probably knew his Townes Van Zandt tribute, "The Townes
You Left Behind," should be country-folk in order to be
more Townes like. But I'd like to imagine the anti-drug "A
Couple of Lines" started with lyrics and evolved into a
reggae tune when it became apparent that was the style that served
the lyrics best.
A harsh ol' world there today
The journey's tougher every day
Hard choices, feel the pain
And the chaos, and the change
A couple of lines
She thinks she'll be fine
Just one more hit
Just one more fix
Historically country music has been lyric-driven. Volumes
have been written analyzing the predominant lyrical themes and
how they've evolved with the sociological norms of the time.
This attribute is one that Americana, at least in my definition,
inherited from country. On his upcoming release Heavy Weather
Dallas songwriter Brian Burns has a song, "Nothin' to Say
(Austin vs. Nashville)," that laments the evolution away
from this tradition in both mainstream country and elsewhere
("Well, it's T for Texas, T for Tennessee / man, it's all
startin' to sound the same to me"). But there are still
singers and songwriters who avoid the formulas, mathematical
and otherwise. Kenny Butterill is one. Visit www.nobullsongs.com to purchase your copy
of Just a Songwriter.
Contact Al Kunz at kunz-at-rockzilla.net
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