BY THOMAS CONNER
© TULSA WORLD Matthew Sweet has been all over the map — literally and musically. He's come a long way from that seersucker jacket and wallflower gaze on the cover of his first LP, 1986's "Inside," to the black leather and devilish grin on the back of his current chartbuster, "100% Fun." Geographically, he's come to L.A. by way of New York City; Athens, Ga.; and his homely home state of Nebraska. Musically, he's come to the seventh level of power-pop heaven by way of synthesizer anesthesia and look-Ma-I'm-on-a-major-label overkill. And like all travelers, he is better and wiser for his journeys. "My whole concept, though, hasn't changed that much," Sweet said. "As long as I have a room with a multi-track (recorder) in it, I can make music." The multi-track is key. Sweet is one like many across the country: a goofy Midwestern boy who spent his formative years locked in his bedroom with his first four-track, writing silly songs for the kick of it and experimenting with sound like a Merry Prankster aboard Ken Kesey's Day-Glo bus. Sweet just happened to creep ever so slowly into well-deserved national notice. Sweet spoke with the Tulsa World last week from the office of his Los Angeles record company, Zoo Entertainment. "I don't work and work on songs," he said. "They come instantly or they don't happen. Sometimes I'm just blowing off steam, getting moody and weird, and I get my guitar and just muse on it. It's therapy, and for a long time — really, all the time — it was totally that until `Girlfriend' came along and made it a career thing." "Girlfriend" was his 1992 release and the one that pulled him out of cult status and into that realm of "modern rock" praise that's just enough to pump your ego and get your name in the paper but not enough to boost you from renting the house to buying it. But on that album, Sweet found his niche — his literal and musical home. The success of "Girlfriend" also accomplished one major feat: it got Sweet out of the house. " 'Girlfriend' gave way to my first real live outing. I didn't play live much at first because I was doing a lot of multi-track stuff and was playing almost everything myself, so it wasn't very feasible to go out on the road." Sweet said his music — with mostly guitars and drums — translates to live performance pretty well. "It's a pretty basic combo. We don't do a lot of the harmonies and stuff because that would mean I'd have to have background singers or something." This cracks him up, but he recovers. "No, the live shows are a little more intense, more rock. We're also trying more acoustic stuff this time." Some rockers complain about touring; some can't wait to get on the road again. Sweet said he's in-between. "I remember at first I was so unprepared for that kind of life. It's a real strain to try and stay healthy and keep going, and you miss things like your wife and house. “But these days I'm into getting out and playing guitar. It's a great chance to get out and have fun with some songs, kick around a little more." Before Sweet hit the road to tootle to the multitudes, he was a nomadic, bright hooksmith moving around the country. Out of high school, Sweet was determined to get to Athens, Ga., the late-'80s harmonic convergence of innovative rock. "There was a real magical feeling in Athens. It was really encouraging," Sweet said. "But as time went on, Pylon broke up, R.E.M. pretty much left and the scene got nastier, and just like everywhere else, it turned out to be a bunch of greedy, nasty musicians and hangers-on." He bailed, and he didn't take with him much of the jangly Southern rock sound from Athens. ("I've never made the Athens claim," he said.) But he did take the connections. As a result of his tenure there, Sweet can name-drop with the best of them. Starting as lead guitarist for cult-faves Oh-OK with Lynda (sister of Michael) Stipe, Sweet landed his first solo record deal with Columbia, which produced "Inside," featuring Sweet with Aimee Mann ('Til Tuesday), two Bangles, Jody Harris, Mike Campbell (Petty's Heartbreakers), Valerie Simpson (Ashford and ...), Chris Stamey, Fred Maher and others. The album was produced in New York, Boston, Los Angeles and London. A smorgasbord of talent made for a nice first record, but the work thereafter suffered from synth-itis. Not until "Girlfriend" did Sweet find his groove. "At the beginning of my career, I kind of didn't know what I was doing," he said. "I tried some different things until some certain ones clicked." A little bit of that, a little bit of this until he was 100 percent Matthew Sweet. The latest album, "100% Fun," capitalizes on Sweet's strong suits -- guitar, guitar, guitar. His versatile formula is melodious and monstrous, especially the album's first track, "Sick of Myself," which reached No. 9 on Billboard's modern rock chart last week. It's a catchy crunch of electric strings alongside Sweet's vital vocal: "But I'm sick of myself when I look at you/Something is beautiful and true/In a world that's ugly and a lie/It's hard to even want to try." The lyrics do not exactly conjure the title "100% Fun." Sweet's songs are not depressing, by any means, but he's not retreading "Walkin' on Sunshine," either. The album title, though, smacks of a little sarcasm. "When my last album ("Altered Beast") came out," he said, "people kept telling me how dark and weird the songs were. So I told everyone I was going to call my next album `100% Fun.' Now I'm hoping the title will predispose people to think the record is more pleasant than it really is." "Altered Beast" actually featured some of Sweet's finer songcraft, but the subjects were black and the characters were creepy, not unlike R.E.M.'s "Monster." "I came to think of it as creepy because I think that's cool," Sweet said. "I can be wacky, but sometimes those things aren't as important to me. "Though ('100% Fun') deals with the more human side of life, there are also some songs that have a weirder, wackier perspective. I'm really into sci-fi monster music, and I think those songs help give the album an added kick." The tour kicked into gear this week. Sweet said he hoped the band would be into a groove by the time they hit Tulsa. |
Thomas Conner
These online "clips" reproduce a self-selection of my journalism (music etc) during the last 20+ years. It's a lotta stuff, but it only scratches the surface. I do not currently possess the time or resources to digitize the whole body of work. These posts are simply a bunch of pretty great days at the office. Archives
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