US Maple tries to reinvent rock with instinct and dread
by John Sewell
With almost 50 years history as an established form, rock 'n' roll is anything and everything but revolutionary. Most rock music is just an endless repetition of tried and true, three-chord riffs and clichéd rebel poses that are nothing more than redundant. That said, rock can still be exciting. Just think of it as electrified, traditional folk music. And sometimes dumb, sexy clichés can be great.
Chicago's US Maple claims to be a part of the rock 'n' roll tradition. And yes, the band does rock. But its exploratory, literary approach to music defies description, deftly avoiding tradition while creating a new musical language.
"In the live context, US Maple is a 55-minute rescue mission," says vocalist Al Johnson. "The songs form a story with a definite beginning and end."
Well, maybe they do. But if you're expecting something like The Who's Tommy, you'll be disappointed. US Maple employs harsh guitar tones, dynamics, odd time signatures and opaque lyrics to create a sound that's just, well, creepy.
"I've always been into A, the abstract, and B, slang: really ghetto-based language," says Johnson. "The language is simplified so much that it's hard to understand. I'm trying to create my own ghetto language. I used to just sit around and look at dictionaries of slang words for days."
The band's new disc, Purple On Time (Drag City) is probably the most challenging and truly unique recording of the year, the decade even. Emotionally, the band occupies a similar space as The Jesus Lizard, The Swans or Captain Beefheart, maybe. And the music, well, it's simply indescribable: strange but not purposely abrasive, terrifying yet compelling—sort of like having a bad acid trip at your parents' funeral. You'll never know until you experience it for yourself, if you dare.
"A lot of the ideas we have when we make up the songs have nothing to do with music at all," explains Johnson. "We'll establish a scenario and then try to replicate it as music. Like, for example, I'll say something like, 'Remember how you felt when you were a little kid in school and everyone was laughing at you all day long and you knew it was something about your appearance but you didn't know what? Now, play how that felt on your guitar.'
"Most other bands just jam on music, throw together a few riffs and some kind of lyrics, and just cut and paste it all together," Johnson continues. "It's our approach that makes our music different. I don't mean to exaggerate, but the musicians are incredible. I think the band is a national treasure."
It's been a long uphill climb for the band, who struggled in obscurity for several years before becoming the darling of the underground. And though the band is popular, it's anything but pop.
"When we started, we really polarized our audiences," says Johnson. "They'd either love us or they'd hate us, but they'd all stay around to see if we survived the show. We're not afraid to fail, and each person in the band has the ability to sabotage the set. It's a different story every night. And I firmly believe that we're offering something different than any other band."
Despite these lofty claims, Johnson does not project an aura of hubris in conversation. He's just passionate about his art. And furthermore, he's right.
So just what are these guys communicating anyway? When printed, the lyrics make little sense. But the listener leaves the experience feeling the fear.
"I realize that it's hard to explain the band," says Johnson. "When we started, we wanted to play in the tradition of the '70s rock that we love, just reorganized in a different way. Each of our albums is a concept album. And it takes a long time between records. We'll make a whole bunch of songs and then throw 90 percent of them out. If after two years the best I could come up with was just another version of an earlier album, well, that's my nightmare.
"Purple On Time, well, purple is an emotional, erotic color. And the album is loosely a collection of morbid love songs, love songs of the ghetto. We all live in some pretty scary neighborhoods, and we get inspiration from that. The songs are about lost love, demented, cheap relationships, or love as an epiphany. It's kind of an Edgar Allan Poe approach to romance. The songs are very dreadful and very morbid—a lower class, dilapidated love."
December 11, 2003 * Vol. 13, No. 50
© 2003 Metro Pulse
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