Heartwreckers

The best country songs have always been the most fearless, but somewhere along the way, Nashville became as sanitized as an operating room. Thankfully, Heartwreckers are here to dirty it up again.

The duo of Brock Butler and Ryan Garrett are two singer-songwriters with an endless supply of hooks and melodies, but absolutely no filter. Not only do they say what they mean, they write and sing about it too — which makes them one of the most honest new duos to hit the scene in over a decade.

“I can't tell you how many times I’ve been writing songs in Nashville and you throw out an idea and everyone in the room says, ‘Oh, that's sick!’” Brock says. “But then they immediately follow it with, ‘But we can't say that.’”

”And I'm like, ‘We can say whatever the fuck we want,’” adds Ryan.

The proof of that statement lies in Heartwreckers’ upcoming debut EP, Shut Up And Drink. A collection of five envelope-pushing country songs all written by Brock and Ryan, the project reflects the unblinking lyrical and sonic approach the duo applies to country music. Ryan likes to call the sound of the EP — produced by Andrew Baylis (Jelly Roll, Austin Snell, Pecos & The Rooftops) and mixed by Jim Cooley — “Country. Ass. Rock.” “With the periods!” he stresses.

First single “Shut Up” is a candid conversation between a heartbroken dude and his buddy, who advises him the best way to forget his ex is to “shut up and drink.” It’s surprisingly more tender than the chorus might suggest, and underscores the bond between Brock and Ryan, who both attended the same Boerne, Texas, high school but didn’t meet each other until they moved to Nashville.

“When I got to town, I kept hearing these whispers about this other kid from Boerne who got out and became a published writer like me,” Brock says. “I knew I had to find him.”

Says Ryan: “We met at the Red Door Saloon in midtown, got drunk as shit, and the rest is history.”

Brock, a Louisiana native who moved to Texas after Hurricane Katrina, and Ryan, a Lone Star State native, already had impressive resumes before forming Heartwreckers: They each had publishing deals, had written with Tim McGraw, and had accumulated hundreds of hours of stage time. Brock toured the country in a reggae band, while Ryan played in an emo-rock group on the Warped Tour. “I did the whole straighten-my-hair thing, wore 80 wristbands and necklaces, and rocked the stage. I loved it,” Ryan says.

Brock also made ends meet working as a sommelier at a fine-dining restaurant. “I didn't realize how hard it was, but I threw myself into it and studied all the geography that goes into becoming a sommelier. Now, I love and know wine,” he says, laughing, “but in the studio, I’ll still be crushing Natty Lights.”

It’s that highbrow/lowbrow juxtaposition that makes Heartwreckers such a fascinating band. They can write and record a devastating breakup ballad like “I’m There” that calls to mind the hopelessness of Jamey Johnson’s “That Lonesome Song,” but keep it street level by including lines about “a pair of Pioneer” speakers “playing fuck you songs.”

Remember their credo to “say whatever we want?” They’re not kidding.

“We have the musicality and the experience of writing country songs with a message, but we're willing to muddy the waters and say ‘fuck’ in the chorus because that's just the right word for it,” Brock says. “There’s no two ways around it.”

“You hear a lot of cookie-cutter songs on the radio, and we think people want to hear the real shit,” Ryan says. “They want real lyrics about being broke, hungover, and wild.”

They try to remind Nashville gatekeepers of that fact in the song “Go South,” a scathing indictment of sterile, lab-engineered country radio singles. “The hits y’all get have all been punched in by a man in a three-piece suit,” they sing, before throwing a middle finger to the poseurs: “What they sell can go to redneck hell/I’m out.”

But that doesn’t mean Heartwreckers are opposed to writing a truck song — they just do it their own way, cleverly imagining a pickup in “Don’t Trust That Truck” with co-writer Chris Hurst that has a mind of its own. Like the Plymouth in Stephen King’s Christine.

“It's like the truck is possessed,” Ryan says, “and every time I get in it, it drives me straight to where I'm not supposed to go — her house.”

“Then she kicks me out,” says Brock, “and I'm miserable again. That’s the theme of that song. It’s a fun one.”

Heartwreckers’ unique worldview and no-fux-given attitude is poised to make the May 24 release of Shut Up And Drink a game-changer. They already have summer tour dates on the books and are eager to get in front of crowds in clubs, too. Brock and Ryan, who trade off lead vocals, are at their best when they’re working a stage: Brock as the grounding core behind the microphone and guitar, Ryan a blur of uncontrollable energy, mic in hand.

“I want the fans to feel the music and sing the words and mean it,” Brock says. “Not because they heard a song 1,000 times, but because they heard it one time and it grabbed them.”

“We’re not scared to be told ‘no,’ and move forward anyway,” Ryan says. “We’re gonna sing and write whatever we want. I want to play in front of 50,000 people, but I'll be happy playing in front of 500 if it means we can say what we mean and feel.”

Brock predicts a movement is on the way in country music, one driven by a return to unvarnished, honest lyricism and a hefty dose of rock — the kind of music Heartwreckers make.

“We can all see it starting to happen. It’s got the beauty of grassroots, the beauty of great talent, and a lot of rock & roll,” Brock says. “Music is supposed to be one big melting pot and there’s nothing cooler than that.”