Rock and Roll, Part Two (Take Two) (Butch Walker and the Let's-Go-Out-Tonites, Irving Plaza 7-26-06/The Stone Pony 4-02-07)

Butch Walker (myspace) has twenty-four guitar picks taped to his microphone stand and he uses every single goddamn one of them.

He's not tossing them out willy-nilly as souvenirs.  They get used.  I don't know where they all go, but I suspect they're lost in action.  This is what I wrote after seeing him last July:

We're deep into the encore.  After doing the state-mandated "Crazy" cover, after spending several minutes in the center of Irving Plaza's floor, getting the crowd to crouch down around him ("campfire style") so they could spring up to the "Can I get a ‘Hell, Yeah?!" line in "Lights Out,"  Butch Walker has jumped back on stage and is pounding away at a milk white guitar with a little yellow pick.  On an upstroke he flicks the pick above his head; as it falls, he smacks it back up with the body of the instrument and - with a motion I'd never liken to that of a falcon claiming its prey, because that would be pretentious and forced and distracting and silly, except it's as assured and natural and hungry as just that - scoops the pick from the air and resumes banging at the strings.

It was just a couple seconds, far back from the edge of the stage, while his back-up singers were up-front, go-going, while the band and audience were busy going all nutso on their own.  I don't think he cared if anyone noticed.

So last night, down at The Stone Pony in Asbury Park, NJ, down in the house that Bruuuuce built - long before the really fucking incredible, house-approved, house-assisted cover of "Born to Run" - Walker's in the middle of some song, goes to solo.  Instead of tucking his pick above his knuckles, he tosses it up in the air, catches it in his mouth.  Turns towards the bassist, does his thing.  As he's turning back to the crowd and the mic and the chorus, he spits the pick up towards the low club ceiling.  It bounces off, flies down, and is caught as Walker's hitting a downstroke.

Circus tricks make for fun sideshow shit, but the point here is that Walker's going to use every ounce of sweat and spit and showmanship - and every one of those twenty-four goddamn picks - to entertain you.  He's going to keep going until there's nothing left.

Five weeks before that Irving Plaza show last summer I'd never heard of Walker and I'm awfully glad I hadn't.  He comes with some baggage - and some material - that'd have pooh-poohers crapping themselves and turning their nose up at the stink.  But his latest album, The Rise and Fall of... (buy) is really sharp stuff, and if the holier-than-thous are too busy rolling around in their messianic complexes to enjoy it, that's their problem.

Don't let it be yours.  Because the first eight songs on that record are better than anything else released in 2006.

*

Walker and his band are playing Irving Plaza tonight (4/3).  Tickets are steep - $25 (online here) - but if you're looking to have your ass kicked by rock and roll you should seriously, seriously think about checking him out.  Yes, you will be surrounded by teenagers.  And yes, you will have to groan through some syrupy power ballads.  But these guys Bring It.

Songs are streaming on his site and his myspace.  Go!  Rock!]

tags: butch walker  concert reviews  

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