Kaitlin Butts' authentic country stylings, dramatic flair, offer mainstream stardom

Tulsa, Oklahoma native Kaitlin Butts is both on the cusp of turning 30 and making her onstage debut while opening for Morgan Wade at Nashville's Ryman Auditorium.

"Acting is something I've always done," says Butts to The Tennessean four hours before soundcheck while sitting on a loveseat and facing the bright sunshine spilling through the window of her East Nashville home's (she moved to Nashville in 2019 and returned -- post COVD-19, in 2021) living room.

The idea that the Ryman is located on Nashville's Broadway alludes to something potentially more significant for the singer-songwriter.

It offers a sense that for as much as her career could be highlighted by Grand Ole Opry membership, a run on Broadway at Manhattan's Gershwin Theatre could be much more fulfilling.

While performing on country music's Mother Church stage later that evening, Butts calls for "unconditional love -- no shame or judgment."

As one of America's latest leading purveyors of what she describes as "sad, triumphant feminism," Butts' call -- upon contemplating it next to her more dramatic leanings -- sounds like the prologue to epic musical theater.

In that context, Butts' seemingly perpetual adherence to wearing rhinestone clothing and gaudy stage gear ("I sing sad songs, but we all deserve to have things around us that bring us happiness, right?"), plus, the standing ovation she receives a half-hour later feels apropos.

Her childhood and formative years spent in gymnastics and musical theater while "just being a girl playing guitar in her bedroom" later offered attending college at The Academy of Contemporary Music at the University of Central Oklahoma. The school, founded by Steven Drozd and Scott Booker, respectively, the guitarist and manager of the Flaming Lips, in 2009, offers both an education in the music business and a crash course in development as a performer.

"Quirky storytelling and [performance-based] selling of the song has been in my blood for my entire life," says Butts. Butts' musical evolution begins far from her current association with rhinestone stagewear. Yes, she counts The Chicks and Taylor Swift (she has the latter's latest album, "Midnights," prominently featured on top of her living room's record player) as "big voices on country radio" as key in her development.

Dig deeper, though, and hilarious yet bittersweet conversations about aesthetic design, aliens, indie folk, rock and Y2K-era "emo music," plus films like "Legally Blonde" and "Thelma and Louise" dot her conversations much more prominently.

She recalls performing tap-dance routines to Johnny Cash's "Folsom Prison Blues," Kristin Chenoweth's "If" and The Chicks' "Goodbye Earl" and "Let' Er Rip" as emblematic of a youth spent becoming joyously familiar with all manner of gun-toting, incarcerated murder ballads.

Time spent during and post-college at Stillwater, Oklahoma's legendary, songwriter-driven Gypsy Cafe Festival (honoring Bob Childers, the godfather of midwestern, "red dirt" country music) and cutting her teeth south of Oklahoma in North Texas' competitive marketplace proved essential to Butts' artistic growth. In addition, learning about the craft of music as a middle-class exploit where skill is equal to showmanship was vital.

A decade later, those community's "warm, loving vibes" -- extended by artists like fiddle player Randy Crouch -- expanded into her song-swapping in smaller groups.

In all ways, in most things, Butts' decade-long career has previously evolved far from the corner of Lower Broadway and mainstream country superstardom.

Her latest album, 2022's "What Else Can She Do," transports the listener into multiple traumatic female narratives. It's a heavy record of sad songs dealing with domestic violence (the title track), drug abuse ("she's using"), family abuse ("blood") and perhaps blues, country and folk music's ultimate murder ballad -- a cover of Leadbelly's "In The Pines," which has roots back to 1870.

This follows 2021 releases like "Marfa Lights," which compares love interests in another 90s film influence -- Jessie the Cowgirl and Buzz Lightyear in 1999's "Toy Story 2" -- to a THC-inhibited evening with her husband (Flatland Calvary's Cleto Cordero) near U.S. Route 67 on Mitchell Flat east of Marfa, Texas, watching sky flashes that many attribute to paranormal phenomena.

Her latest release continues audacious, empowered, raw and contemplative work.

Her use of Texas drag queen Paris Van Cartier alongside herself as a Hamburger Inn waitress in Ardmore, Oklahoma (population > 50,000) in the video for "What Else Can She Do" articulates the aggression many Americans feel about becoming increasingly more commercially and socially untethered from the tools required to engender empathy and grace.

For Butts, it continues a decade-long struggle between highs like her forthcoming appearance at the Stagecoach Festival and lows like maintaining her career while the "explosive, inner turmoil" of her parents getting divorced, a family member suffering through substance abuse and more existed around her.

"Everyone knows someone who struggles with ugly issues that we're not supposed to talk about," Butts says.

Live, her set hits three significant moments that exemplify these points.

Foremost, her left-of-center envisioning of Johnny Cash's "Jackson" ending with a shotgun-held guitar flourish of "Walk The Line" sells a certain level of quaint authenticity that endears even the most jaded country listener to Butts' presentation. In addition, "Roadrunner" and "Marfa Lights" highlight her lyrical and vocal talent well. The former bears indie rock influences hearkening to REM's "It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)," while the latter's vocal runs showcase the flexibility of her instrument.

However, in the previously-mentioned"she's using," when she sings, "Mama said it's like losing a child without the flowers or the casseroles," the line's overwhelming vulnerability stabs through the chest and heart. In its wake, Butts' song leaves the metaphorical equivalent of a bloody stake peeking through your back and blood-shot, tear-jerked eyes.

A note from her conversation with The Tennessean about overcoming anxiety feels like an attempt at a broader statement making a more profound impact.

"I have conversations with myself where I talk about not being scared or nervous about things anymore. I remind myself that I'm just excited. That excitement is going to fuel the rest of my career."

This article originally appeared on Nashville Tennessean: Kaitlin Butts' authentic country stylings, dramatic flair, offer mainstream stardom