There’s something almost reckless about how Chapter 4: Rebirthing Pains exists. Recorded in a week, built off borrowed titles, and driven by pure instinct, this isn’t an album chasing perfection, it’s chasing a feeling before it disappears. Originally dropped in 2017 and now resurfacing after Chapter 5: No Hope (2025), this project feels like opening an old wound and realizing it still speaks. Butch IV leans fully into chaos, grief, and isolation here. The lo-fi texture isn’t a limitation, it’s the whole point. You’re hearing moments, not polished songs. And that rawness? It hits different. Track-by-Track Review
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1. Shock Doctrine: This opener throws you straight into the deep end, no warning, no easing in. “Shock Doctrine” feels like a mental breakdown caught on tape, restless and unstable in the best way possible. The improvisation is obvious, but instead of sounding messy, it feels urgent. Like something had to get out right now or it would explode. The emotional swings, hope, anger, confusion, don’t come in neat sections; they overlap, clash, and blur into each other. It’s less of a song and more of a state of mind.
2. Kiss Your Wounds: There’s a strange vulnerability baked into this one. While it still carries that same chaotic DNA, “Kiss Your Wounds” feels slightly more introspective, like Butch is sitting with the pain instead of running from it. The rough edges remain untouched, instrumentation feels like it’s barely holding together, but that’s exactly what makes it hit. It’s the sound of someone trying to comfort themselves without really knowing how.
3. Day After Wretched Day: This track introduces a bit more structure, but don’t expect anything clean. The heavier guitar work dominates, bringing a gritty, almost suffocating energy. There’s a melodic thread buried underneath, but it fights to be heard through the distortion. It feels like routine suffering, the kind that doesn’t shock you anymore, just weighs you down day after day. There’s something bleakly relatable about that.
4. Misty Window: slows things down, at least at first. It opens with a calmer, almost reflective tone before gradually layering into something more complex. The pacing here is key, it gives you space to breathe before pulling you back into that familiar haze. It feels like staring out at nothing, lost in thought, watching your own emotions blur together like condensation on glass. Quiet, but not peaceful.
5. I vs Illusion: This one leans heavily into experimentation. The distorted, evolving drum layers create a sense of instability, like the ground keeps shifting under your feet. It’s chaotic but intentional, capturing that internal battle between reality and perception. There’s tension in every second, like the track is constantly on the verge of collapsing but never quite does. It’s disorienting in a way that feels very deliberate.
6. Circus: “Circus” is easily one of the most intense moments on the album. It stretches out longer than most tracks, giving its themes, despair, confusion, anger, more room to spiral. There’s something theatrical about it, but not in a polished way. More like a broken performance where everything is slightly off. It feels overwhelming, almost exhausting, but that’s kind of the point. It mirrors emotional overload without trying to soften it.
7. Promise of a Reprieve: This track teases relief but never fully delivers it. It starts on a calmer note, giving the illusion of peace, before gradually building into heavier, more distorted territory. The transition feels natural, like slipping back into old patterns you thought you escaped. The guitar work here stands out, raw, aggressive, but still controlled enough to guide the emotional shift. It’s hope… but fragile.
8. Hearts in Hell: Closing the album on “Hearts in Hell” feels intentional. It’s one of the more melodic and emotionally grounded tracks, offering a slight sense of resolution without pretending everything is okay. There’s a catchiness here that contrasts with the heavier themes, almost like a reminder that even in chaos, there are moments of clarity. It doesn’t erase the pain, it just sits with it, which feels honest.
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Chapter 4: Rebirthing Pains isn’t easy listening, and it’s not trying to be. This is music as documentation, not decoration. Butch IV isn’t interested in sounding perfect; he’s interested in being real, even when that reality is messy, uncomfortable, and unresolved. If you’re into polished production, this might throw you off. But if you’re looking for something raw, unpredictable, and emotionally unfiltered, this project lands hard.
