His debut album, Butter, opens with a suitably sexed-up Sesame Street introduction, as Birchard welcomes us into his head, walking us through his thoughts, propelling us purposefully with vibrant chords and pompous guitar solos before opener proper, "Gluetooth," which skips from the lovable splash of the opening piano into cut-up glory and kick drum thump mania, before he strips back the colourful instrumentation and lets the power of the bolshy bassline propel the track.
It's the perfect example of Birchard's hyperactivity and constant merging of styles, a trait that is Butter's most endearing aspect. He runs through many styles throughout the 18 tracks—stylophone scales on "Rising 5," computer torture and trumpets on "ZOo00OOm," panpipe hysterics on "FUSE," drum rolls and string stabs on "No One Could Ever"—and eloquently stamps them all with his own uniquely manic drum work and, incredibly, manages to make them all sound uniquely different but intrinsically him.
Butter isn't the most cohesive of albums—though the vocal spots courtesy of Olivier Saysoul ("Joy Fantastic" and "Just Decided") convey a kind of skittish Bootsy Collins oddball vibe perfectly. It's erratic, often as purposefully stupid as it is sexy. But that brazen "I-don't-give-a-fuck-yo-I'll-do-what-gets-ME-off" attitude—the type of approach that has always made his music so different, so vibrant and so truly special—is thankfully omnipresent, marking Butter as an album that could have only been made by Hudson Mohawke.