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An explanation is in order. How did Pearl Jam travel halfway around the world this summer and NOT hook up with John Butler? At least Ben Harper had enough sense to join him.
At first listen, the John Butler Trio seems to meld the two musicians’ styles together. Butler’s angst-ridden vocals seem from the mold of Eddie Vedder. The metallic-slide and finger picking acoustic guitar work branches from Harper. But where Vedder and Harper fail is the space that Butler makes his very own. And his band's new album, Three, proves it.
The discrepancy begins with Butler’s animosity and ends with his vocal comprehension. The record’s opening cut, “Better Man,” (ironically, Pearl Jam hit the charts with a similar-named tune) sets the album’s pace. No wonder it was chosen as the single. A painfully urgent tune, Butler turns to the age-old strife of being dumped by a loved one. Though, given his penchant for Mother Nature, it could have a double-entendre. And the ethereal, sparse acoustic sound is dragged into a much heavier place Down Under. The Trio, including Gavin Shoesmith on bass and Jason McGann on drums, have a rich, earthy sound that fills otherwise dead space. The natural tones of the acoustic slide, the deep, syrupy bass and hobo harmonica evoke early, stripped-down Led Zeppelin outtakes.
“Attitude,” the second track, has a whole lot of its namesake. A slow and deliberate lead-in with heartfelt lyrics about honesty and integrity amongst friends breaks just enough to allow the peculiar eleven-string guitar enough room to swoon. “Media” takes on a very American-style battle against television, newspapers, radio, et al. Nothing new there, but a fine modern protest song nonetheless. But it’s the fourth track, “Believe” that gets the album pumping with a nasty eleven-string romp. Its eye-opening lyrics offer a manipulation of sorts: persuasion for narcissists. Believe in yourself, Butler believes, and everything else will fall into place. This trinity, obviously, contains messages of self-awareness. It may seem simple but the listener realizes just how many outside forces can take hold of personalities and shape them into ugly deformities and make mere shadows of people’s former selves. Heavy stuff, but one gets the idea that Butler truly believes he can help change the world. If only he could get the world to listen.
“Take” is an eight-minute foot-stompin’ trek. The relatively short vocal track is a veiled shot at domestic violence, yes, but it allows the Trio some room to open up musically. It’s unfortunate that it’s buried in the middle of the album. A native instrument, the didgeridoo, makes its quirky sound behind a slapping bass and heavy drum workout. McGann’s dexterity shines quick, then slow, working hands and feet simultaneously as Butler’s guitar rises gently and takes off again to close out the song.
“Life Aint What It Seems” is as close to a ballad as Butler dares venture, but shows off a very pleasing vocal range. “Money” is the album’s darkest, most eerie cut. Call it JBT’s “The End” or “Dazed and Confused.” The minute-and-a-half introduction evokes an Aboriginal chant with a didgeridoo for harmony. Emerging from the shadows of its intro, the song zigs into the album’s poppiest sound with a balanced, rising beat. No surprise that this is another political-heavy song, but this time Butler lets go a more direct shot from his quiver by attacking Australia’s carelessness and greed with its Uranium mines. While the resource may provide monetary help for the country, the angry lyrics also become his most passionate stance. Raping Mother Nature for this nuclear substance is not only wrong, but it will leave the vast island a virtual moonscape when all is said and done. And if you can hang on, the track has some ripping eleven-string guitar work for the last four minutes.
Rounding out the album is Butler all by his lonesome on the near 15-minute instrumental opus, “Foundation.” The guitar work is somewhat drawn out for the first third but takes on some very emotional tones, through distortion and odd tonal arrangements, as the song progresses. Also noteworthy is the song’s only percussion: his foot. Something so simple as a foot, that was probably moving to the beat as he played anyway, typifies Butler’s unique approach to making music. The guy just hears it differently than other musicians. And he has the talent to project that aural scape like few others.
Some notes about the packaging:
The CD itself depicts an actual cut of wood. Remember, Butler’s biggest problem is the eventual vanishing of trees. Before you even get a listen, he’s opened your eyes to his number one complaint.
The cover concept is by Butler, an art-school dropout.
The booklet not only has all the lyrics printed, but it offers some statistical information about Australia’s carelessness with its forest, how it will affect the country’s future, and how the damage has already been done.
The booklet’s last two pages are devoted to Uranium, with the lyrics to “Money” conveniently to its left. Australia’s penchant for mining the resource is literally mapped out, showing both defunct and working mines.
Scott Caffrey
JamBase Correspondent
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