AN INTERVIEW WITH SINGER-SONGWRITER AND TV & FILM COMPOSER ERIC BUTTERFIELD
Eric Butterfield is a singer-songwriter based in Sonoma County, California. His latest single,“Boy In A Bubble,” is about social isolation during the worldwide pandemic. He also releases music as Sons Of The Golden West, whose most recent album was the instrumental offering, Punch Drunk Moon. His music has appeared on more than 270 TV show episodes. Eric talked to Critical Angst about his creative process and what inspires him and give advice to aspiring freelance composers.
CRITICAL ANGST: I have gotten into the habit of listening to mostly instrumental music over the last year of working remotely. Your instrumental album Punch Drunk Moon fits my mood perfectly. It is driving and atmospheric and a bit mind altering. You are a prolific lyricist, what led you to do an entirely instrumental album?
ERIC BUTTERFIELD: It started as a little bit of an accumulation of instrumentals that were kind of “on the side” from the regular songs. But, I was also making a lot of instrumentals for use in TV shows. Most of those I don't consider material that I want to release. But, over time, I created the first few instrumentals that became the beginnings of Punch Drunk Moon.
I've loved many types of instrumental music over the years, but had never done an instrumental album. One of my favorite Beastie Boys albums is In Sounds From the Way Out. I loved what a complete picture of a departure that album is, and it inspired me to build on a set of instrumentals that I wanted to develop beyond a typical TV show production music track.
You have produced a lot of instrumental music, how is the creative approach different than for songs with lyrics?
In most ways, the creative approach is the same, but the criteria is different. As with a song, I'm constantly asking myself whether the listener will still be engaged and drawn in by the song—but now I'm only evaluating instrumentation and melody, not the lyrics. It puts more pressure on the choice of chords and melody and instrumentation. In that way, I enjoy the challenge of creating a sonic journey with no words to concretely anchor it.
On that note, I was amused by a question posed in the photo captions in the Talking Heads' album, Stop Making Sense: “Singing is a trick to get people to listen to music for longer than they would ordinarily.” I took that sentiment as a challenge to write instrumentals that can engage a listener longer than the standard 3-minute radio format limitation.
Your style has changed over the years -- what has inspired your recent folk and country output (under the Eric Butterfield moniker)?
Some of it's inspired by music I grew up on, and also by stuff I've discovered more recently. But I consider it less of a change in style than a shift in emphasis. A couple songs I started with for my singer-songwriter project were written back in the early '90s. Even when I was playing in heavy rock bands, I always had a variety of mellow music at home, and was working on songs on an acoustic guitar.
Back then, I could go from full-throttle noise rock at the practice space, and come home and put on something as mellow as Enya, a classic jazz album, or an early years Tom Waits collection. My recent focus shifted with a newfound desire to tell a story and make a lyrical connection. I love writing lyrics, and wanted to create music where the lyrics were central to the song, not just window dressing on the vocal melody. I kind of burned out some styles of indie rock where the lyrics tended toward obscurity and irony rather than attempting any straightforward talk of life experiences.
How do you develop music for TV and film?
It varies, in some ways, depending on the genre. Also, I like to generate ideas on different instruments, because it's easy to get stuck in a rut. Moving from guitar to piano, say, or starting on the drum kit instead of guitar, can begin something that would not have happened otherwise. I might start on the drums with the brushes to start a jazz track, but I'm certainly not doing that to record a drone for a sci-fi show, say. One thing that is the same, regardless of genre, is I'm trying to create a mood and develop on a theme that will support a scene in a TV show or film.
So far, I have not been hired to create music for a show or film. So, I made the music first, not knowing who might license it. I didn't match it to any footage. So, in some ways I've had to retrain myself and restrain myself. I have to imagine the music playing during a scene. I have to imagine a music supervisor listening to the music, wanting it to set the mood. The big no-no is a sudden change of mood, so I have to refrain from any sudden lurch in the vibe, or it will become basically unusable for most scenes.
I've been a composer at a music production house and been involved in composer groups, and everyone's looking for trends, and looking to popular shows for guidance. No one wants to waste their time producing an “already ran” sound.
How do you know or guess what music supervisors might want for productions?
I've been a composer at a music production house and been involved in composer groups, and everyone's looking for trends, and looking to popular shows for guidance. No one wants to waste their time producing an “already ran” sound. That said, I've never been the most forward-thinking person, so to be honest, I'm not the best at ferreting out the next big thing in TV soundtracks. There's a bit of a hazard in chasing that tail, and you can go in circles and make yourself miserable. I've done that a bit, and found that if I was trying to chase a sound, I better be sure I really love it and want to perfect it, or I'm not going to happy making that music just to try to make a buck.
What excites me most about what I'm hearing now is the retro influences, because that's fun for me to incorporate the sounds and vibe of my childhood musical memories. Most recently, it's been the '80s vibes, and I've been working on music pulling from that decade. But as fast as things move these days, I might be too far behind the curve and the shows will have moved on by the time I get my music out there.
What has been the best thing about your solo music career?
Focusing intensely on the craft of songwriting has been a real joy, a continuous learning experience. I've always been in a band. That was always my thing. Who doesn't love a great band? So, I wanted to be part of one, to soak up the energy of multiple musicians collaborating to create something unique that none of them would ever dream up single-handedly, complete with different musical backgrounds colliding, and hopefully creating something really cool in the chaos.
That was, up until my son was born. I tried returning to my band after my hiatus to have my son, and my bandmates had decided I didn't have the time. That stung, but they were probably right. So, I squeezed my recording setup behind the living room couch and got to work composing, with the idea of pitching my songs to TV shows.
Can you speak to a favorite song you wrote and the inspiration behind it?
One of my favorite songs is “Wake Me In Paris.” It was my first single, and it made the semi-finals in the International Songwriting Competition, in the unsigned category, which was thrilling to me. I co-wrote it with Scott Mickelson, who produced the song as well.
The song is about a couple that met in Paris, and now they're separated. The inspiration was the agony of long-distance love, which I've gone through a couple times. But the song began as someone else's story. I was hired by a man to write a much earlier version of the song, to send to his lover in another county. I love writing custom songs for people because it gives you a wonderful glimpse into their lives, and to write a song that tells their story is a wonderfully personal gift.
“Wake Me In Paris” barely resembles that original beginning, but that man's personal struggle with missing his far-away girlfriend got me to thinking about my own long-distance miseries of yesteryear. And, so, a song was born.
The world is full of stupid sayings you should ignore. One of them is, “Jack of all trades, master of none.”
What, if any, are the challenges to playing all the instruments on a project?
The world is full of stupid sayings you should ignore. One of them is, “Jack of all trades, master of none.” I hate that saying. I love to tinker with everything and can't help myself. It is definitely true that doing everything yourself poses limitations (I am not Prince, after all). So, maybe my pursuit of being a multi-instrumentalist meant I'd never excel at one of them. But, in the end, it's songwriting and composing that excites me most, and being able to incorporate multiple instruments is a great tool, if you ask me, even if I'm not, say, a Jaco Pastorius on the bass.
Besides, I don't insist that I play everything if my skills won't make the cut. For the Sons of the Golden West EP, Oh, California!, I hired a local pedal steel player named Josh Yenne to round things out. Great player. Sure, I could have played my lap steel and come up with decent parts. But why do that if I can tap better talent to improve the music?
What first got you interested in music? Did you start as a drummer or fall into it because it is the most in-demand job in a band?
I just caught the bug. We didn't have any instruments in the house, so I made them. My first guitar was a shoe box with rubber bands stapled on it. My drum set was my mother's Tupperware containers, which I hit with the goal posts from my Super Jock toy (remember that thing—you smacked it on the head to make him kick the ball?). My first keyboard was a Simon Says electronic toy, which made bleeping noises. I recorded onto a big portable cassette recorder (we called it a “beat box” in the '70s). Then I learned to bounce to my stereo cassette deck while adding an overdub, and I was hooked for life.
I first took up guitar, but got a little frustrated because my hands were small, and then wanted to do drums. So, I talked my brother into taking guitar. He lost interest, but it allowed me to have both a guitar and drum set in my room to play with. Drums was my main instrument in the beginning. I had plenty of friends who played guitar. But, mainly, I loved banging on the drums. As a rowdy teenager, I found it very therapeutic. One drum teacher asked me, “Do you always hit the drums that hard?” My answer: “Yep.”
Can you tell me more about your time living in Ireland and playing in a band?
Very shortly after landing in Dublin after half a year living in London, I was introduced to a band that needed a drummer. I was backpacking, had no drum kit. But they shared their practice space with another band, whose drummer was a wonderfully generous guy, and he lent me his kit. I can't thank that guy enough, as well as the Irish in general. Wonderfully generous people. The whole experience made a big impression on me.
We played the clubs in the Temple Bar neighborhood and around Trinity College. I had a blast making a big racket there in Ireland. I had to go on my way, though, after a few months, and do my summer backpacking adventure. The band, the Mexican Pets, ended up releasing albums on Andy Cairns's (of Therapy?) label, toured Europe, and got the attention from Seymour Stein, co-founder of Sire Records. I was long gone by then, but I sure enjoyed my early days with the Pets.
The music business has changed so much since I met you in the 90s. Any thoughts on it? How is music being free on the internet a sustainable industry?
Music being free (or, perceptively free) is, clearly, not a good business model—if selling music is your only business. Still, I don't think it's all bad news. The music industry has never been just about selling music. It's also been about attracting fans to buy concert tickets and buy merchandise, and so on. In one sense, giving away music can get you more exposure and allow you to find the dedicated fans who will spend money on other music releases that aren't being streamed.
It can sound scary, thinking that younger listeners simply don't value music because they don't have to buy it. But that devaluation didn't start with streaming services. You could say the same thing about music playing on the radio, and music playing in markets and department stores. People have come to expect that music is just there and they're entitled to it. But, truth be told, how many albums have you bought that left a bad taste in your mouth because they only had one or two good songs, and the rest were mediocre filler? So, we're back to pushing singles, like the old 45s.
If your only goal is to sell albums, yeah, that train has left the station. But I'd be a hypocrite to condemn it outright. Although the internet enabled Napster and now delivers the streaming services, which pay musicians poorly, it also enabled me to pitch my music to TV shows without having to mail CDs to the studios in L.A. or drive three hundred miles in hopes of getting a meeting with TV executives. The internet also allows me to find clients for my music production services, find customers who want a custom song, and connect with music fans around the globe even though I haven't toured.
Have you ever happened upon your music watching television?
That actually has not happened, surprisingly. I've walked into places with a TV show playing that my music has appeared in, but I've never accidentally stumbled on a show with my music in it. I have, of course, looked up shows that used my music, to see how it was used. You know, just for research. Not for ego-stroking at all.
What's the most difficult thing about doing all the recording yourself?
Learning to enforce a left brain/right brain separation rule. I still don't know what that rule is, exactly, but I do my best to block out other duties so creative time isn't interrupted. It's not ideal being my own producer. It's distracting to have to both play the instrument and run the recording session. Sometimes, I screw up and don't get a take recorded, operate the computer. If I had a nickel for every time I envisioned the fantasy of a producer on the other side of the glass handling all that so I could focus on the part I was trying to nail, I'd be a wealthy man.
How did you get started writing music for television?
After my son was born and I didn't have a band anymore, I really needed a musical outlet. I wanted to take my music in a new direction. I wanted to branch out and explore the mellower songwriting I'd always been doing, but never had much of an outlet for. I had been laid off from my job, with a repetitive strain injury, and I was staying home with my newborn son. So, I needed something to fill in the gaps between naps and changing diapers. Songwriting and writing instrumentals for TV shows seemed like a good fit.
What advice do you have if someone wants to break into production music?
Patience and persistence. It's a long lead time to getting music on TV shows. You have to research, network, and do a whole lot of submitting to find the libraries and sync agencies that will get your music placed. The libraries that get somebody else the most placements may not be the same ones that worked for me. My “short list” is of 120 libraries and sync agencies that I am in or plan to pitch to, and that's just a small fraction of what's out there. New ones pop up, then disappear. The biggest ones don't take unsolicited music, so you have to find the ones that do, and figure out how to distinguish yourself. And then, you wait some more to see if they can get your music any love from the TV industry.