Collective Soul scatters hits

March 8, 1999
Steve Tilley
Edmonton Sun

Opening act Marvelous 3 deserve more than the customary token three paragraphs at the end of the story for their cheesy but infectious hard-rockin' set.

Led by frontman Butch Walker, who must be from the suburbs of Vaudeville, they followed the rock rulebook to the letter: Spit, swear, crack jokes, say the city's name several times, throw a dozen or so guitar picks in the audience, leap around acrobatically, and sweat.

Thing is, they were entertaining and funny and rocked hard. I overheard a few folks slagging them, but come on - it's OK to have fun once in awhile.

Marvelous 3 with Collective Soul

March 8, 1999
Mary-Lynn McEwen
FFWD Weekly

Joe Jackson-kissed melodies, tattoos à la Guns ’N’ Roses, makeup that apes Iggy, Bowie, and Dead Boys pallor – it’s astonishing that this Atlanta trio doesn’t count "Personality Crisis" among their theme songs.

But conferring with singer/songwriter Butch Walker, it’s apparent that he, bassist Jayce Fincher and drummer Slug have done more arranging than disarranging of their identities and senses.

"We were all kids of the ’70s and ’80s and we all had two older sisters," a slightly low-key Walker reflects from Philadelphia, where the band is recovering from their previous night’s gig in New Jersey. "I had two sisters that were big music freaks, engulfed in their music collection. They were pretty hip, so little did I know I was getting weaned on really good stuff, and some bad.

"Music didn’t have such a segregated idea of genre back then. You could be listening to Parliament one minute and Queen the next – you got off on both aspects. What really suckered me was stuff that had a visual flair to it, from Queen to Duran Duran to the Cure to Mötley Crüe, all of them had something visually dynamic to look at.

"I started appreciating the craft of the song and lyrics with people like Elvis Costello and Joe Jackson."

If Walker was suckered by his idols, then listeners to Hey! Album, the band’s major label debut on the heels of 1997’s indie Math and Other Problems, will likely be sucker-punched by the first few tracks, which deliver a kind of toned-down glammy bliss laced up in hooks and witticisms.

Sadly, what follows doesn’t quite live up to the promise. The band stabs at power pop and pop ballads and spears bits of the ’70s, ’80s and ’90s, coming ever so close to nailing something definite, but instead ends up grasping at the ghosts of those years, albeit always fighting for more than just that.

Perhaps that’s because in their personal lives, the trio doesn’t even want to come close to the excesses that defined the previous eras and helped inspire artists to write lines that could have ended up as their epitaphs when their bodies expired before their mythologies.

"The world would wanna think we’re partiers, but I have to rat on myself – we’re pretty fucking boring when we’re not on stage," he says. "After shows, we’re not out creating debauchery that went with the ’80s. We have to take care of ourselves on these tours."

Still, these little rock ’n’ roll lambs were obviously suckled on some of the best teats in music, so you could expect that their live shows might come closer to letting them become what they are. Personally, Walker doesn’t want to watch a band that looks as if they’re sound checking, and doesn’t expect Marvelous 3 fans to, either.

"We were kids that grew up in the ’80s and appreciated rock ’n’ roll that had a show aspect and a bigger-than-life formula. We just couldn’t subscribe to the ’90s because it was all about, ‘Oh, please, don’t acknowledge my existence, don’t look at me, just listen to my songs,’ and I’m like, ‘Get off your high horse! It’s rock ’n’ roll – write great songs and exploit yourself. Make people want to look at you, make people want to have fun.’

"That’s one of the things that’s been missing and we’re gonna bring it back because the kids at the shows are just loving this."