Album Review: Butcher Boy - Profit in Your Poetry

I feel that there is a lot of dishonesty inherent in pop music. As a whole, the genre is belaboured with scene-specific posturing, pretentious music snobbery, and a grating sense of fraternal exclusivity, all of which are designed to do little more than forcibly erect an aura of coolness and defend it to the death-or until it becomes unfashionable to do so, at which point the vultures of retro and irony swoop in to feast on what remains. While I admit that the same critique of vested self-interest could be applied to just about every musical genre out there, pop seems to be the most obvious transgressor. After all, the name ("pop" as an abbreviation of "popular") is itself a dead giveaway that the genre is based on marketing a widely-saleable item.

I digress, but not without a point. It is this tradition of willful crap-proliferation that makes the real musical gems all the more valuable, though not necessarily in terms of dollars and cents. Or pounds and pence, which must needs be the case with the Glaswegian pop-rock septet, Butcher Boy.

The true value of any given band or recording is, at best, nebulous and irrecoverably subjective, notwithstanding the tradition of rock-crit scoring, "best of" lists, and the e'er-inflating market values of store-purchased albums and tickets for live performances. Still, there is something to be said for an artist whose work is self-referential without being masturbatory, inviting and open without sounding bland or trivial. To whit: in the lyric sheet introduction to Butcher Boy's debut full-length, Profit in Your Poetry, lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist John Blain Hunt muses about

"The things you remember when you're little! Birds pecking the tops of milk bottles to get at the cream. The times of the tides, breath in cold air, the names of the planets, the definition and purpose of the seasons, the dates on coins, a whole penny of change to yourself... I am glad to have found these memories again, and to be able to call on them again. I am happy that, in the end, this is what our record is about."

Our UK readers (I know that you're out there) may recall Hunt from his time spent as a DJ with the National Pop League, a monthly dance night held at the Woodside Social Club in Glasgow. Having created Butcher Boy as an ad-hoc poetry project in the late 1990s, Hunt eventually went on to assemble a backing band of friends and interested compatriots-pianist Alison Eales, cellist Jacqui Grant, bassist Garry Hoggan, drummer Findlay Mackinnon, violist Aoife Magee, and lead guitarist Basil Pieroni. February 18, 2005, marked the first official performance by the current incarnation of Butcher Boy at the local RAF club in Glasgow; soon after, the band soon began to play their soothing, Smiths-ian tunes at venues in and around the Merchant City. In 2006, Butcher Boy's first recording, "Days Like These Will Be the Death of Me," appeared on How Does It Feel to Be Loved?'s Kids at the Club compilation, which garnered no small amount of praise from The Guardian and from that ubiquitous three-pronged publication based out of Chicago. You know which one, you dirty hipsters you.

As a debut album, Profit in Your Poetry sets the bar remarkably high for future Butcher Boy releases. Lead track "Trouble and Desire" does a fair job of establishing the backbone of Butcher Boy's style: guitar reverb, poppy bass lines, anti-bombastic percussion, airily arresting vocals, and a pleasant backdrop of strings. A love song for a photograph, "There is No One Who Can Tell You Where You've Been" thrives on acoustic guitar rhythms and the commanding drone of a cello. Title track "Profit in Your Poetry" changes things up with a peppy blast of surf-rock guitar and ride-heavy rhythms backed by merging strings from Magee and Eales. "I think I understand why you make due," croons Hunt, "so secretly I paint the mirrors blue / I can see you sleep and see you bleed / and I can see the profit in your poetry."

The apologetic strains of "I Could Be in Love With Anyone" will doubtlessly remind listeners of similar Morrissey-inspired Glaswegian acts like Belle & Sebastian (albeit sans-twee), ditto for the confused lovesickness of "I Lost Myself." Current single "Girls Make Me Sick" attempts to disguise its sad-sack themes with plenty of pop, wrapping upbeat percussion, a driving bass line, pop-rock jangle, and Mellotron accents around sentimental lyrics like "It means the world to me / to see you fall asleep / to feel your breath against my cheek / so southern and sorry."

"I Know Who You Could Be" pairs its wishful thinking with captivating piano and string melodies, a ringing guitar riff, and yet another remarkably catchy bass line, while "Fun" pares things back for a coffee house ballad with a central acoustic melody that slowly branches out to include piano, bass, subdued percussion, and finally strings. "Keep Your Powder Dry" is one of the shortest and most endearing tracks to the album, its two minutes and fifteen seconds occupied by angular guitar riffs, bass, brassy percussion, piano, and a quick-and-tasty full-band outro. Final track "Days Like These Will Be the Death of Me" leads with classic-sounding strings before quick-switching to include muted guitar strumming, snare-centric percussion, fluid four-string rhythms, slide guitar, piano, and even an accordion. And, like all of Hunt's work so far, it's no slouch in the lyric department:

"This house is like a fire when the sun sets / it knocks me to my knees / and days like these will be the death of me."

Well-worded, forthright, and endearing, Butcher Boy's Profit in Your Poetry is a welcome reprieve from a UK pop scene full of over-inflated egos and hype-fueled success. Give a listen, and get to know these lads and lasses a little better. You'll be happy that you did.