Bernard Butler
People Move On

The enthusiasm of Alan McGee taking Bernard Butler under his protective wing must have been greater than Butler's own excitement at signing with Creation.

This is because the producer, upon the release of People Move On, gave a resounding commendation, declaring the singer-songwriter as the Neil Young of his generation.

It’s easy to disagree with McGee (despite him being someone who has always had a keen artistic insight) not so much for the fact that Neil Young is Neil Young, but rather for the pointlessness of comparing art personalities that have little in common.

The fact remains that Nomen Omen; the album of the people moving on was definitely the step to take for the guitarist after the abrupt separations from Suede and David McAlmont.

Inside there is blues, some great guitar riffs (obviously) and lots of melody. The rock n' roll for those who remain attached to the first Suede album does not disappoint, thanks to the -in this case tender- melancholy of Stay and When You Grow; because it's true that the tortuous bite of Brett Anderson's lyrics is obviously missing, but on the other hand, there is always the recognizable hand of the one who composed Pantomime Horse.

The songwriter’s penchant for Phil Spector's wall of sound neither overshadows nor diminishes the brightness and clarity of the tracks. He also handles the orchestral side of the composition. This requires a method that evidently is not lacking.

Upon the release of the guitarist's second solo album, Friends And Lovers, Creation closed its doors. A chain of events and more or less financial reasons led Butler to a reconciliation first with McAlmont and then even with Anderson for an entire album under the name The Tears.

As a producer, Butler contributed to the success of The Libertines and the English singer Duffy, establishing himself among record producers without however making bold claims like the legendary Alan McGee.

What is lovely about People Move On? Honestly, it is an album that has remained somewhat forgotten and little-known, which ironically seems to demand the listener's attention; an attention that will be rewarded. An album I don't consider self-celebratory but with curative intent for its author, without a doubt.