The Rebirth of Boys Life: Kansas City Legends Return With Ordinary Wars
We talk with Brandon Butler on politics, rebellion, and the enduring power of Boys Life.
Boys Life Is Back—and Ordinary Wars Proves They Never Really Left
Nearly three decades after they first carved out their niche in the indie-rock world, Boys Life is back, and they’re not just revisiting the past—they’re reinventing it. Their new EP, Ordinary Wars, recorded with longtime collaborator Duane Trower, is a raw, cinematic burst of guitars, ghostly vocal chops, and dissonant beauty that feels both intimate and urgent.
The four songs emerged from an intense, almost ritualistic studio session in Kansas City, blending spontaneous jams with razor-sharp songwriting, capturing the band’s renewed chemistry. Lead singer Brandon Butler frames the EP as a reflection on life’s fleeting nature, the disillusionment of modern society, and the quiet rebellion of carving your own path.
The music is deeply human, emotionally precise, and full of heart—proof that Boys Life’s legacy as Kansas City emo legends still resonates. In the ‘90s, they helped define what would become the Midwest emo sound, blending dissonant, mathy guitars with DIY intensity and raw emotion. Their albums Boys Life (1995) and Departures and Landfalls (1996) became underground classics, inspiring a generation long after their initial run.
Now, Ordinary Wars delivers haunting melodies and lived-in tension, with metallic silver artwork underscoring the weight of their political vision. This isn’t a dusty revival or a nostalgic rehash—it’s a defiant rebirth. Fans old and new are invited into a world where beauty meets resistance, where emotional truth collides with social critique in music that feels immediate, urgent, and unforgettable.
I spoke with Brandon Butler about why the band returned after 29 years, the harsh truths behind Ordinary Wars, and what it really means to fight your own ‘ordinary war’.
Justin Staple: What inspired you and motivated you guys to get back together and create this EP?
Brandon Butler: When the “Home Is A Highway” box set came out with Numero Group, I was happy it existed — it’s great that everything’s finally in one place, especially for people who never had access to the old stuff or were too young the first time around. But I didn’t want that to be the last thing we ever did. I wanted to put out something that felt like us now.
Once we knew the box set was happening, and once I finally wrapped my head around who the label even was — I’m not totally out of the loop, but I also don’t really follow labels or keep up with that world — it just clicked. I thought, we should do one more thing, something current, something that reflects where we are now.
So that’s what sparked it. We got together and it all came together fast — like, three days fast. We practiced for a couple days, went straight into the studio, and that was the whole process. No big discussions, no long planning. I had three songs, Joe (Winkle) had a riff, and we just banged it out. We even finished writing some of it in the studio, the way bands used to do.
JS: That’s amazing. I feel like the resurgence is due to the lasting power of that early stuff, too. Do you have any thoughts on how that music has re-popularized in the last few years, how the reissue did so well, and the staying power of that early work?
BB: I think for younger people — and honestly, maybe for people my age too — there’s this thing where you look back at older music and the whole aesthetic around it. Even with Joe and I doing our band Canyon, we weren’t into modern stuff at all. We were always looking backward at old rock records, old sounds, that whole world.
I think it’s similar for people who are 17, 18, 20, 25 now. They weren’t around when all of this happened. Boys Life was a totally pre-internet, pre-cell phone band. And I think there’s a kind of authenticity in that era that doesn’t really exist in the same way now. Today you can finish a recording and post it online the same afternoon. You can throw something on Bandcamp and reach more people in a single day than we ever did on an entire tour.
So I get why it resonates. The music is interesting, and I think younger people now are more musically savvy than we were. They’re willing to get into something that isn’t perfect — and those old recordings definitely weren’t perfect. The vocals, the guitar work, all of it has flaws. But it captured a moment. And it’s a good moment to look back on for inspiration.
I do think nostalgia plays a huge part in it, especially for younger listeners.
“I get why it resonates. The old recordings weren’t perfect, but they felt real—and that’s what lasts.”
JS: Talk about how the band’s friendship has stuck together throughout all these decades and how you guys were able to just come back together. I know you played some shows around the reissue too, right?
BB: Oh, it hasn’t always been good — not at all. It’s been 30 years. We’ve all changed. Joe and I have kids now. Life happens, and you become different people.
When we got back together in 2015 for the reissue of the second record, we played for about six years, and honestly, it was more tedious. It was harder to work together. Joe and I had history from other bands, and with any long relationship, you hit rough patches.
Eventually you need that cooling-off period, and then you come back like, “Alright, let’s put our big-boy pants on, write some music, and see what happens.” And that’s what this was. Back then there was more pressure — more expectation. I realized over those six years that, for someone who used to love touring, I really don’t enjoy it anymore. I love my routine, my family, my comforts. I like playing live, but I don’t want to be gone all the time.
With this EP, it was totally different. We knew we weren’t going to tour. We knew it was just going to be an EP. We talked about doing a full record, but we just don’t have the time. So we went into it with the mindset of, “This is what it is. We’ll make it, and then figure out who wants to put it out afterwards.”
That side of things has never really been my wheelhouse. I’ve always had opinions, but I’ve never been involved in the artwork. This time it was Anderson and some friends who handled all of it. We just approached the whole thing differently.
And honestly, we didn’t even know if the studio time would amount to anything. It could’ve worked or not worked. But it ended up working great — better than we hoped. We’re all really proud of how it turned out.
JS: And where was the recording? Where did that take place?
BB: We recorded it in Kansas City with Duane Trower at his studio, Weights and Measures. Duane played guitar in Season to Risk, and he’s done a ton of great records. He’s also worked closely with John Anderson on a couple projects. He’s just really easy to work with.
I’m not usually a fan of recording in studios — it often feels stiff, rushed, and like the engineer doesn’t really get what you’re going for. But Duane’s known us basically our whole existence. Some of our earliest shows were with Season to Risk. He understands the DNA of the band.
Honestly, he kind of became the fifth member. He wasn’t just engineering — he was producing, making suggestions, edits, and pushing things in the right direction. The EP wouldn’t sound half as good without him.
JS: What was it like for you guys to be back there all together? Did it feel like the 90s all over again, was there some nostalgia?
BB: Yeah, we played to some smaller crowds, but it was cool. Kansas City has changed, but out of all the Midwest cities, I think it’s held onto its charm the most. It still feels like Kansas City.
It didn’t feel exactly like the old days, but the city still has that same character — the landmarks, the skyline, all the things that make it uniquely KC.
And it’s funny — when you’re from somewhere, you spend your whole life complaining about it. But as soon as I left, I was like, “Man, I really screwed up. I should’ve moved back.” There’s so much happening there: great studios, good clubs, Steve Shaw’s Record Bar, Minibar, all kinds of venues. Honestly, it’s got more going on than Louisville does, for sure.
JS: I want to dig into the political nature of the record — the themes behind it. A lot of younger artists aren’t making political music anymore, or they’re not interested in going there. But it really comes through on “Ordinary War,” the single. Why was that important to you?
BB: I see things differently because of my job. I’m a general contractor, and I work with clients in more affluent areas with nice houses, while some of the guys who work for me are Hispanic. So I see a broad cross-section of people. And being back in the Midwest after leaving D.C., I can’t help but notice we’re not moving in a good direction. It’s not just the administration — it feels deeper, systemic.
Convenience, constant connection, information overload — even in music, it’s become so expensive. Want a t-shirt, a record, a festival ticket? It costs a couple thousand bucks. People are insulated, isolated, polarized. The left is for the left, the right for the right. Progress feels impossible.
I come from a working-class family — dad was a welder, mom a truck dispatcher — and I grew up in a single-wide trailer in Florida. Seeing people bust their asses and still struggle to get ahead is frustrating. Single parents, working overtime — survival is impossible for many.
That informs the darkness in some of the songs. Before things can get better, I think it’s going to have to break. Borders, nations, racial divisions — those systems need to be dismantled. I don’t see a political party capable of real change; corporations run the country, everything is transactional, even art.
It’s not personal or emo anymore — it’s about the storm we’re living in. Planes almost falling out of the sky, data centers sprouting everywhere, communities afraid to go outside… that’s reality. And I don’t see government as the solution. Change has to come locally — through communities, through musicians getting involved, raising money, taking action.
That’s what the record is mostly about: observing the breakdown and questioning what we can do to survive and make it better.
JS: What’s your process of translating a lot of these ideas into lyrics on the EP?
BB: I don’t really have a set process. I’m not a trained writer, and grammar isn’t my strong suit. I just find word combinations that feel right. Sometimes I’ll say something out loud that I like, but I rarely write anything down.
There was never a full lyric sheet for Boys Life — maybe five words here and there. I wasn’t the original singer for the band, just for a few practices. We had a show with Girls Against Boys, and I got a page to call him — on a payphone. He said, “Dude, you can do it. You’ve got to do it.”
So I went home, scribbled a bunch of stuff, and tried to remember it. That’s kind of how it always worked — things just come to me. I wrote some of the lyrics for “Always” in the studio. That’s the positive song on the record because it felt good to be with those guys, to squeeze the last bit of Boys Life out of the rag.
The rest of the lyrics come while I’m at work. I spend a lot of time alone remodeling people’s houses. I’ll sometimes say a line out loud, and one of my guys will give me a look like I’m insane. I just say, “Song,” and they shrug, “Oh, okay.”
JS: Did you have any musical inspirations either in the first iteration in the 90s or now?
BB: Yeah, of course. Boys Life definitely looked up to bands like Jawbreaker and Rites of Spring.
As far as interesting guitar work and unusual dissonance, we listened to Squall, Bay and Castro, and Season to Risk. Duane Trower, who recorded us, is a really unique and accomplished guitar player. Locally, we liked Quitters Club, and Joe was into Drum Box from Kansas City.
We also listened to Dinosaur Jr. — the older stuff. I’ve always been fascinated by guitars. Back in the day, we’d listen to The Van Pelt, Low, Archers of Loaf…
A lot of what we heard came from friends, mix tapes with bands like Evergreen and Current, Indian Summer, Prozac Memory. And of course, Jawbreaker — a classic. Anything we could get our hands on.
JS: Archers of Loaf are from my neck of the woods — I’m from Durham, North Carolina. That’s actually how I first got into Boys Life, back in the early 2000s, from a mix tape or mix CD, probably with “Fire Engine Red” on it. I’ve been a fan ever since.
BB: That’s awesome.
JS: I’ve got to ask you about the album art too. It really embodies what we’ve been talking about. Tell me a little about the new album/EP artwork.
BB: Yeah, the artwork was done by a local artist and tattooist, Mikey, in Kansas City. He’s good friends with John Anderson — he actually tattooed him. Mikey looked at the lyrics and the themes of the songs before putting it together.
When I first saw it, it was really stark. It almost reminded me of a Rush album cover — not that I’m a fan, but in terms of high-concept design. It felt rad, cool, and kind of freaky. It’s printed on black paper by Brady Vest at Hammerpress, using metallic silver ink and letterpress, giving it a three-dimensional, tactile quality.
The images show people doing everyday work — farming, textiles — symbolizing the working middle class. There are also tower drawings, which feel like souls being drawn upward. It’s a bit abstract, but it fits the music perfectly. Alone, the images could look like art, but as an album piece, it all comes together.
It’s a collage, showing people being lifted by some sort of energy force. The record itself is etched, 10 or 12 inches, with one side featuring a large etching of…well, apparently we have a logo now.
JS: The packaging for the new EP looks incredible — the black matte cardstock, the silver ink, the lyric layout. You guys really went all-out.
BB: Yeah, man. It’s beautiful. I’ve only seen proofs so far — just photos, not the real thing — but even from the images it looks unbelievable. It’s this heavy black matte cardstock, lyrics on one side, the artwork on the other. Hammerpress did it, and they’re insane. Brady — he’s the guy behind so much of that stuff — he’s a genius. He’s been doing print work for like 30 years. He did the early Boys Life and Giant’s Chair stuff, the self-titled record, the Christie Front Drive split, all of it. He’s just… the guy. Everything he touches feels intentional.
JS: So he basically shaped the visual identity for a lot of that scene.
BB: Pretty much. Back in the day, the Departures and Landfalls artwork wasn’t him — that was Byron from Giant’s Chair. He took the photos and laid everything out. Real DIY, pre-digital stuff. But Brady did so much of the rest. And this new one? It’s epic. Honestly, it looks a little like Rush in a weird way — not musically, just that big, iconic design vibe. It feels classy. It feels like an object.
JS: Did he also do the box set?
BB: Yeah, I’m pretty sure he did. The box set is beautiful — genuinely beautiful. I’ll be honest, I haven’t even dug into it the way I want to yet, but aesthetically, it’s stunning.
JS: I wanted to ask you a final bigger-picture question. After this release — after the videos, after the rollout — what happens next? Is this really the end of Boys Life? Or if the right offer comes along, could you see yourselves playing more?
BB: I think there’ll be more videos. I used to think music videos were corny — like, “that’s not punk, man.” But the “Ordinary War” video changed my mind. I thought, okay, this is cool, this is art. And I’ve never really been in a band that made videos, so it’s been fun. I’d love to do a couple more.
Shows? That’s tougher. It’s expensive — not just money, but time. I’ve got work. John’s a teacher, so he can’t just disappear for a few days — he’s in school when the world is touring. Summers are chaos for me with the kids. Soccer, everything. And I’m not trying to be dramatic, but I’m also not trying to destroy my body. I can’t jump around like I did at 25. I’d break something — and I don’t want to.
JS: So realistically, the live chapter might be over?
BB: Maybe. Probably. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I honestly believe — and the other guys might disagree — that sometimes the healthiest thing you can do is let something die. Let it exist in the moment it was born. The people who saw us in ’94 or ’96 saw a thing that can’t be recreated. I don’t want to give someone seeing us for the first time in 2025 a version that feels… diminished. Not the same energy, not the same chaos. That matters to me.
JS: But if the right offer came along?
BB: If someone said, “Come play an outdoor show,” or “Come play a basement show,” something small and raw and low-pressure — I’d love that. No rehearsals, no big production, just plug in and go. That sounds fun. That sounds like us.
Anything beyond that? I don’t know. I loved playing the two shows we did. I loved seeing old friends. But for me personally… I think this might be it. At least in terms of being a “band” again.
JS: That’s honest — and honestly refreshing.
BB: Yeah. But something else could still happen. Something cool. It doesn’t all have to be shows.
JS: Well, this has been incredible. I’m genuinely stoked about this release, and I can’t wait to get this piece up. As a long-time fan, this has meant a lot. Congrats on everything — the music, the art, the whole return. And if I’m ever out your way, we’ll grab a beer and talk more.
Boys Life brand new EP “Ordinary Wars” is out now via Spartan Records.
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