Maria McKee – I Like To Use Traditional Elements And Mix Them Up In A Modern Way

ND: Not only do the songs feel torn from the stage, but there’s a rock opera element in there, too, a Who influence you’ve acknowledged.

MM: It’s taken pretty obviously from some of Pete Townshend’s stuff. When I think about my favorite people in rock, they’ve all been influenced that way, everyone from my brother to Pete Townshend to Scott Walker to Harry Nilsson, Todd Rundgren, John Cale, David Bowie, Freddie Mercury. It satisfies me as an artist and a performer to embrace those elements. I find it challenging, but I find that I can meet that challenge.

ND: Are you arranging any older songs in the context of the new record?

MM: We go all the way back to the first Lone Justice record, and we do something from almost every record in between. It works. It shouldn’t but it does, because the band is incredible.

ND: How about cover songs on this tour? You’ve done such interesting covers over the years.

MM: I would do a whole night of covers if I could, but there are so many songs that I’ve written that I need to get in. But one cover song that I’m really digging and we’re doing in the set every night and is kind of out there is “Candy’s Room” by Bruce Springsteen.

ND: How did you come to “Candy’s Room”?

MM: I’m a huge fan. I love the Born To Run/Darkness era, and also Wild & Innocent. My oldest friend, who turned me onto Springsteen, was the first person I called when they approached me to do the tribute [a Bruce tribute album that McKee ended up not appearing on]. We used to write his lyrics on the bathroom walls at school. She and my husband were calling out all these Springsteen songs and I think they both said, “What about ‘Candy’s Room’,” at the same time. And I thought, what a brilliant idea. I love the transgender thing, doing songs like that.

IV. WE WANTED EVERY SONG TO HAVE THAT BRASH COUNTRY THING

ND: In the six years between albums, a few songs have come out, including your contributions to the Songcatcher soundtrack and the Cajun music anthology Evangeline Made, both of which are rootsier recordings than anything on High Dive. Is that contrast intentional?

MM: It’s important for me and for my fans to keep that aspect of what I do alive. It’s becoming increasingly harder to do a pure roots thing on my solo records. High Dive embraces it slightly more than Life Is Sweet, but it would be foolish of me not to do a straight roots record at some point. I think I’ll eventually do a project with Steve Buckingham [a Welk Music Group exec], but it’s not where I’m at right now. So it is conscious for me to go let this out every now and then and do something in that vein.

ND: The other record that came out in between is the Lone Justice compilation This World Is Not My Home. Six songs, released for the first time on that disc, pre-date the first Lone Justice album and show the band much rootsier and stripped-down than the Geffen recordings. Is that the “real” Lone Justice that nobody ever heard on albums?

MM: That was the Lone Justice that initially caused the fervor in L.A., that sort of style and those songs. By the time we made the first album, most of the people who liked that stuff considered us sold out already. What we were doing before was more raw and out of control and slightly campier, but I’m glad we went in the direction we did. It was good to challenge us a little more. I remember Jimmy Iovine’s whole thing was, “I’m so sick of hearing that two-beat, two-beat all the time. Polka beat — I can’t take it anymore!” Every song we played was like that, but that’s because we thought we were brave and bold and establishing something. For us it was bratty. We wanted every song to have that brash country thing.

This is really weird, but the one Lone Justice song I’m doing in my set from that album is “Sweet Sweet Baby”, which has nothing to do with the original Lone Justice. It was Miami Steve Van Zandt and Benmont Tench’s song. For me it’s the one song from that album that I really love doing live.

ND: When you hear Lone Justice in your head, your sense of that band and the sound of those albums, does it sound like the records? One unmistakable thing about both albums, especially the second, is their production style, which is such a product of the era.

MM: Yeah, it’s weird. For years I was really dismissive of the Shelter album, but so much time has gone by. And even though I’m pushing the envelope of this operatic stuff, I’m really a traditionalist and careful not to date my records too much. Life Is Sweet was a bit dated because I had this whole epiphany with Nirvana; the life and death of Kurt Cobain really affected me and I was completely sideswiped by the whole thing. You can sort of hear that post-grunge tone to it. I like to use traditional elements and mix them up in a modern way. That said, looking back on my career, I’m glad I made one album that does [belong to its time], and Shelter does.

V. MY GREATEST FEAR IS TO HAVE LOST IT AND NOT KNOW IT

ND: You are such a gifted live performer, but you’ve been off the road for the better part of six years.

MM: I have a love-hate relationship with it. A show for me is not just a show, it’s a cathartic experience. I have this way of performing where I can lose myself in a song, and then the minute it’s over I have to shut it off and get my feet [back on the ground] by saying something really off the wall. It’s weird. I have to have ways of snapping me back abruptly.