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"I never experienced a scene [like
this] before," said Australian guitarist/singer Anne McCue
of her present home Los Angeles, "songwriters, musicians,
everybody dreaming about what they want to do and having a positive
outlook on it. I just really like it."
It seems almost fitting that McCue would
end up in the City of Angels, the epicenter of the film industry,
for the musician originally wanted to become a filmmaker back
in Sydney, Australia. In turn, her music has taken a striking
cinematic quality. On her latest album Roll, McCue's semi-autobiographical
songs are a mixture of love's trials and tribulations ("I
Want You Back," "Tiny Little Song"), self deprecation
and regret ("Stupid," "50 Dollar Whore"),
and the imagery of the Wild West and wayfaring strangers ("Roll,"
"Ballad of an Outlaw Woman"). In the middle of all
of this is some barebones rock and roll anchored by McCue's piercing
blues-rock guitar and expressive, soulful singing.
Her music has drawn critical raves in the
press and by her fellow peers, including Lucinda Williams, with
whom McCue had toured. "It's a brilliant thing to have happen
because I always her music," said the soft-spoken singer/songwriter
via telephone in Los Angeles. "She is a role model to me
as far as songwriting goes. To have her actually like what I
do it was pretty amazing. She plucked me out of the void and
put me somewhere in the universe that made sense."
Roll is
McCue's third solo album, but the first to be officially released
in the United States. "I think it's a kind of American roots-influenced
album-a little bit blues, country, and alt country. The songwriting
was very influenced by my having been in the States for four
or five years playing."
Part of that American influence can be
found on one of Roll's most accessible songs is "Stupid,"
whose jangle pop sound is reminiscent of the Byrds and lyrics
urges the listener to find inspiration within him or herself
rather than from the past. "To me it's a bit of a reply
to the '60s--the Byrds and Bob Dylan," she explained. "There
was a kind of real excitement in those days about music and about
songwriters, and about the future. I think now people cling to
the '60s for their hope and their joy, and it's like 'We have
to get real and make our time exactly like that, and we have
to be optimistic about the future.'"
Another standout tracks is the emotionally
raw "50 Dollar Whore," whose chorus contains the lyrics,
"A fifty dollar whore/Could solicit more respect/Than
I gave myself." It is one of many examples of McCue's
starkly confessional songwriting approach. "It has an intimate
quality to it," she said. "People seem to relate to
that." When pressed about a particular favorite track on
the record, McCue didn't cite one singular song but enjoyed the
ones that allowed her to flex her instrumental skills and hone
her songcraft. I love the ones where I got to jam: "Hangman,"
"Machine Gun," and "Roll." They have a spontaneous
to them. And I also like the pop songs, which are crafted and
fit together neatly. I like them all for different reasons."
McCue had been in two previous bands as
guitarist, the modern rock Girl Monsta and Eden, an acoustic
outfit. Now on her own, she has become both the vocalist and
the guitarist, adding a little extra responsibility to her role
as leader. "It took me a long time to get used to it,"
she acknowledged, "because I am an introverted type of personality.
I find that when I get the get the right band I get comfortable.
I feel at home."
But home was not exactly in Australia where
she came into her own as a performer, rather it was in South
Asia. Along the way as she was getting her solo career together,
McCue was one of the few Western performers to play in all places,
Vietnam (she mentions that experience briefly in "50 Dollar
Whore") "It started out as being a three-month stint
but ended up being a one year residency," she remembered.
"I was kind of my own booking agent because there was no
one playing the kind of music I was playing. So I had the whole
town to book. There was a lot of expats from all over the world
so they tended to be my audience."
She said of her experiences in Vietnam,
"It was a really fantastic time. They were starved for that
kind of music. Rock and roll hadn't hit Vietnam-it's still seen
as a source of evil. The government issued a list of songs you
are allowed to play to the Vietnamese people." But McCue
snuck in a few songs in the vein of Nirvana and Pearl Jam anyway.
"Well I left before I got into trouble," she wryly
added.
Although McCue is a great guitar player
(check out her nine-minute cover on Jimi Hendrix's "Machine
Gun"), she is not keen on technique or flash when it comes
to playing her instrument. "It's not how you play it but
what makes it worthwhile. [It became] 'Who can hit the higher
notes on one bar?' It's the way you play it and the time you
get out of your guitar. It's the way you express what you are
trying to say. I'd rather hear three notes than 500. I rather
hear a bad technician playing something meaningful than a brilliant
technician playing something meaningless."
McCue's meaningful playing and talent was
more latent than obvious in the beginning. By rock and roll standards,
McCue was sort of a late bloomer when she began to play guitar-at
the age of 17.She remembered when she came across a six-string
via the five-finger discount. "The first guitar I 'stole'
was my brother's guitar," she looked back with a laugh.
"He left it at home because he moved out. So in a sense,
I borrowed it."
Growing up in Sydney, McCue's musical influences
included such acts like Neil Young and Leonard Cohen (whom she
name-checked in "Stupid"), while getting into punk
and the blues. It was no surprise that she liked the power trio
format since she currently fronts her own. "I like a lot
of the three-piece bands: the Police, Cream, Jimi Hendrix Experience,
and the Jam," said McCue.
McCue's original career path was in filmmaking,
and although she did graduate from Sydney University of Technology
with an Arts degree in film production and studies, the desire
wasn't there anymore. When I finished my degree, I realize I
didn't want to work in the same industry as a technician,"
said McCue. "I was more interested in the writing side of
it. I worked on film sets as an intern and I didn't enjoy it.
I put that on hold and I just thought I'd like to play in a rock
band."
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But she is clinging on the hope of finally making a movie as
well as writing a book. "I rather make one really good movie
that a hundred crap movies. I think prolific doesn't make quality.
If that's what motivates someone, good for them. Unfortunately
I am not motivated that way, which is to my financial detriment
of course."
For someone whose life has taken unique
twists and turns, from Sydney to Vietnam to Los Angeles, and
her love of the cinema have shaped her music. There's a point
of view of the restless traveler that is almost true to life--on
the song "Roll" she sings, "I look for love
along the road/Traveling around from town to town."
"I think on this album in particular,
I feel my lyrics are more pithy, more personal in truth in there,"
she commented. "I also like to make up stories like "Ballad
of an Outlaw Woman." To me it's a Western with a modern
feel to it. I can see how it's like a movie to me that song."
Aside from someday writing that great novel
or making that film, McCue is determined to make her musical
career everlasting. "Obviously I'd love to sell a lot of
copies so I can tour," she said. "I'd love to make
a new record each year. I just want to be able to do it without
worrying all the time about what's going to happen next."
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