Butcher Brown: Letters From The Atlantic

“So, what kind of music do you make?” This question is the bane of every musician’s existence because it requires that they shrink down the wide expanse of their creativity to an easily (mis)understood genre description.

No matter how vivid or elaborate the description, “show” will always be more powerful than “tell.” The words we use to describe music don’t encapsulate what the listener’s experiences as much as give context clues.

That’s why Butcher Brown – the multifaceted band from Richmond, Virginia – call their sound and their follow up to 2020’s #KingButch and their second release on Concord Jazz, Solar Music.

“Solar music” is not simply a description; it’s an invitation to listen and an invitation to feel.

Friends and bandmates Corey Fonville (drums), Andrew Randazzo, (bass), Morgan Burrs (guitar), Marcus “Tennishu” Tenney, (trumpet, saxophone, vocals) and Devonne “DJ Harrison” Harris (multi-instrumentalist) make music that is as diverse as their own varied tastes and backgrounds. It’s a seamlessly blended amalgam of sounds including jazz, hip-hop, rock, funk, R&B, alternative, soul, country, house, bossa nova, pop, and more. “We are the melting pot. We are the mix,” says Devonne. “I feel like that's what we represent and that's what this album represents.”

But Butcher Brown’s eclecticism isn’t for the sake of musical masturbation or to impress chin-stroking critics. Theirs is music of, and for, the people. “It’s music for everybody," says Tennishu reflecting on how well-received they’ve been on stages across the globe. “You can see it on all kinds of different faces, young, old, big, small, short, tall, they all start dancing eventually. It’s literally music for the whole solar system.”

So how did this band of brothers make the sun come out on this new album? They challenged themselves to break from routine and old formulas. “[In the past] we'd make a record, like [2014’s] All Purpose Music and put constraints on what we do in the studio with the thought of the live show, thinking ‘let's make this something that we can recreate at the show,’” explains Andrew. “We did that for a few records but then #KingButch was the one where we kind of departed from that idea and took more of a Sgt. Pepper ... approach of, let's just explore what we can present in the studio, even if it's not something that we can pull off live.”

Realizing that listening to their albums and their live show are two distinct experiences unlocked a new level of creativity for the band. Now Butcher Brown could allow themselves to explore new sounds and approaches to songwriting and production. This new unbridled creativity informed their approach to making Solar Music over the course of many sessions in 2021 and 2022 at go-to studios Montrose Recording, Minimum Wage Studios, and their homebase Jellowstone.

Of course the sun is at the center of the solar system, giving us warmth, lighting our days and keeping the planet revolving around it. Similarly, when it came time to create Solar Music the band saw themselves at the center of their sound drawing in other like-minded musicians with gravitational pull.

What could have been an insular musical conversation between the five became a collaboration with some of their friends and faves including Oakland-bred wordsmith Nappy Nina (“Half of It”), hip-hop iconoclast Pink Siifu (“Eye Never Know,” “Run It Up”), East London rapper Jay Prince (“Move”), real-life guitar hero Charlie Hunter (“Espionage”) and more.

On the new album, Butcher Brown flexes their musicianship not only as players but also songwriters, producers, and composers collaborating with guests. “We can do everything on our own, sure, and we have done that for forever, but it's also cool to have other people come in and get their perspectives,” explains Morgan. “Butcher Brown is evolving, maturing, and we’re growing as people,” adds Corey reflecting on the making of Solar Music.

The results of these collabs are extraordinary. Take the album’s first single, “I Can Say To You” for instance. “You’ll find your way/ tomorrow or today/ there’s nothing else I can say to you ...,” sings guest Vanisha Gould in a voice that sounds both angelic and ancestral. “She has a voice that almost sounds like a sample, almost like Billie Holiday or something, " says Corey who sought her out to feature on the song. “It’s got that warmth, like somebody’s mama singing to you.”
Warmth, light, and connection through a sound that like the sun itself is for everyone. Welcome to Solar Music.

Richmond, Virginia-based artist McKinley Dixon has always used his music as a tool for healing, exploring, and unpacking the Black experience in order to create stories for others like him. On his previous two self-released albums, Dixon’s songs looked at concepts ranging from self-love to police brutality, and the complex trauma Black people navigate collectively and as individuals. For My Mama And Anyone Who Look Like Her, Dixon’s debut album on Spacebomb, is the culmination of a journey where heartbreak and introspection challenged him to adapt new ways of communicating physically and mentally, as well as across time and space.
 
"Black people have an ability to talk about the concept of home—meaning communities, blocks, hoods—from a really thorough place because of those concepts' connection to Blackness. That ability, and sort of already internalized and in place language, allows for the speaker (rapper) to exist in their current setting, while also being able to reminisce, dissect, and discuss their past,” says Dixon explaining the idea of rap as a form of time travel. “If time is ‘non-linear,’ what is stopping me from going back to process the past? I am here now, having learned what I have, and because of that I am able to go back and figure out patterns and trajectories to see better how I've gotten to this point. And to see what I can do differently for the community and people around me in the future to make where we're going, together, better. For me and other Black folks, when you hear rap music, you are then able to take those moments in the music and apply them to your own life and patterns. It's a glimpse into the worlds of others that look like you, and it allows you to feel a sense of belonging—and in a way, a sense of home. Rap music has a very sturdy trajectory of 'I want to be somewhere else, one day I'll be somewhere else, and I’ll take my whole community with me.'"
 
This unique concept of musical time travel elevates the storytelling on For My Mama And Anyone Who Look Like Her as it moves through different stages of Dixon unpacking and processing his surroundings. The new album, which is the third piece of a trilogy, finds Dixon working through inner demons, complex relationships with religion, and trying to make sense of mortality for Black peoples. This winding road of turmoil is only amplified by a deeper pain he’s still finding the language to work through: in 2018, his best friend was tragically killed. In the context of just being Black and living in this world, “musical time travel” has become a way for Dixon to dissect traumatic timelines and pave his own road to processing, healing, and survival. “The album is me processing for myself now, and for my younger self,” explains Dixon. “It’s also a conversation to my homie who died, who didn’t have access to the same things as I did—didn’t have access to music, therapy, books.” With Black death constantly happening on a news cycle, within neighborhoods, and within families, processing has never had a specific start and end point. These 11 songs are a way for Dixon to cycle through fragmented memories and unclosed chapters, and begin to reconcile where these stories of racism, death, and trauma live on the new timeline he’s created for himself.
 
“The language accessibility aspect of this project draws right back to communication and connecting,” Dixon explains. “I think about the messaging, and how this can be a way for another Black person, someone who looks like me, to listen to this and process the past. Everything I've learned about communication for this album culminates with this bigger question about time. Is time linear when you’re still healing and processing? Westerners look at time travel as something to conquer or control—it's a colonizer mindset. That’s ignoring how time travel can be done through stories and non-verbal communication, and doesn't acknowledge how close indigenous people are to the land and the connections groups have because they’ve existed somewhere for so long. Storytelling is time travel, it's taking the listener to that place. Quick time travel. Magic. These raps I’m making are no different than stories told around the campfire. They elongate the culture.”
 
The origins of For My Mama And Anyone Who Look Like Her go back almost three years, beginning with a song written in 2017 called “Chain Sooo Heavy.” Having worked with over 30 instrumentalists on his last record, Dixon formed a more solid band to bring this album to life. Never relying solely on beats, Dixon continues to tap into a hybrid of jazz and rap, pulling in an array of piercing strings, soulful horns, percussion, and angelic vocalists throughout the album—plus features by Micah James, Lord Jah-Monte Ogbon, Pink Siifu, and more. Jazz instrumentals add a level of uncertainty, with the sounds and shifts evoking a lot of emotion and vulnerability. It’s an energy he describes as “Pre-Kendrick Lamar To Pimp A Butterfly,” the era when rap adopted more live instrumentation.
 
When Dixon is trying to find the words to describe a moment, he draws inspiration directly from literature. “Called for Jesus/Now I’m gonna curse his daddy,” from “B.B.N.E.”, was inspired by renowned novelist Toni Morrison, an influence who shows up throughout the album. “I’ve got so many of her books. Reading her work gives me the language needed to access this version of musical time travel I’ve been talking about. I’ll open up a Toni Morrison book, read it, and try to find sentences where she’s trying to describe what I’m feeling and I’ll go from there.”
 
“Bless the Child” evokes the strongest sense of Dixon tracing patterns through time. Shifting through three beat switches, it’s a figurative shrine of past thoughts and feelings around his friend’s untimely passing. “The tone with the beat switch allows me to shift from being in the past with these memories, to the present right now where I’m very conflicted, and ends in the future with me, the artist, processing it all,” he explains. “The song is a literal translation of my homie’s passing and how I’m processing it. It’s a mixture of sentiments and asking myself what it means to ‘do it for them’ at this point.”
 
For My Mama And Anyone Who Look Like Her challenges Black people to revisit more than one timeline and question everything they’ve been taught about processing grief in order to rebuild their present and future selves. There’s no definitive end to the darkness and trauma of the past, but this album is a stepping stone in Dixon’s pursuit of moving forward, and being a voice for Black people still learning how to advocate for themselves.
 
“The best way to sum up this album is: I was sad, I was mad, and now I’m alive,” Dixon explains. “These things I talk about on the record have had harmful and brilliant effects on my timeline, and have forced me to be cognizant of the fact that living is complex. Rap has allowed me the language to communicate, and be someone who can communicate with people from all over. Knowing how far I’ve come, I think people will find trust in the message I’m sending.”
-Max Mohenu