Let Freedom Sing

My, my, but this little kitten has sharp claws. What a pleasant surprise!

Maria McKee, previously known as a sultry-voiced, pretty-faced, easily manipulated country and roots rock songstress, has released a roaring angst salad of a new album in “Life Is Sweet.” So far removed from what anyone might have anticipated of her that McKee has completely rewritten her career in one fell swoop; this latest sonic hurricane of an album is something approaching heroic.

McKee, who performs Wednesday night at the Galaxy Theatre in Santa Ana, always seemed the mousy type--talented, to be sure, but playing the game the way corporate dictators mandated it, never taking chances, never living up to what always seemed a vast but unrealized potential.

First, there was the embarrassing hype behind Lone Justice, McKee’s first group from the mid-’80s, which died a predictable death in the face of expectations no group of humans could reasonably be expected to live up to.

Then came a couple of pleasant but safe solo albums, one of which McKee herself has referred to as a “Lone Justice apologist” record. McKee seemed destined to remain little more than a popular club attraction.

And now comes “Life Is Sweet,” challenging forecasts of squandered opportunity. On it, McKee purrs, howls, threatens, loves. She tells intimate stories full of wit, passion and outright hostility. She plays the guitar like Fred “Sonic” Smith meeting Mick Ronson in a no-holds-barred rumble of bad intentions for the six strings. It’s a compelling, highly theatrical effort, recalling the better days of Alice Cooper and David Bowie but adding a ‘90s brand of feminist independence a la Alanis Morisette and Courtney Love. But unlike Morisette and Love, McKee can really, truly sing; she fills an entire album with amazing original compositions, and she plays guitar like the Tasmanian Devil on steroids.

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“I’ve been doing this for so long, and I’ve never really been satisfied,” sighed McKee in a recent phone interview. “I’ve always had other people telling me what to do, and I’ve always gone, ‘Oh, OK.’ I never really asserted any confidence.

“It just got to the point where I was tired of all that and wanted to do it my way. Every other combination to attain commercial success had already been tried--every producer, every combination of musicians--and nothing really worked. Commercial success, in America at least, has always eluded me. I have nothing to lose. If I go out, I go out with a bang.”

“Life Is Sweet” is one woman’s primal scream of liberation and independence. A corporate commodity since before she was old enough to legally hang out in the clubs she performed in, the little girl has grown up into a womanly force of formidable grit and intelligence.

“When I was a teenager, I was this young, pretty, talented person, and it was like a blank canvas,” she said. “Everyone had their own idea of what sort of artist I was supposed to be. There were grappling images all sort of fighting each other. I was always very aware of that, and this new album sort of quiets all that in my head.”

There were times, McKee said, that the pressures foisted upon her as a young girl in Lone Justice made her quietly go crazy.

“I retired,” she said. “I ran away, I left L.A. I didn’t care. I got fat. But it wouldn’t leave me alone, because I always loved music. Look, I’m not bitter. I’m pleased that I’ve gone through all these experiences that I’ve gone through because I learned so much. People would go, ‘What if Lone Justice had been allowed to grow at its own pace? What if you had signed to an [independent label]? You could have been like R.E.M. and graduated into being a household name.’ But that’s the last thing I’d want at the age of 31. For me, the fun is the struggle and the passion you have when there’s something to prove. I look back at 31 and haven’t achieved what I wanted to do, and now I have the opportunity to do so. I have the same passion at 31 as I had as a teenager when I first discovered punk rock. It feels fresh.”

It’s hard to say how existing fans weaned on McKee’s earthy-voiced, country rock warblings will react to this Jekyll and Hyde transformation, but McKee is willing to take the risk. Already, she’s dealt with the inevitable exasperation from her record company, but she remains determined to stay the course.

“The record company was flabbergasted by it, to say the least,” said McKee with a giggle. “They thought I was committing career suicide. Maybe not so much in Europe, where I have a very diverse career, but here in America. I have a great relationship with Geffen Records, where I’ve been for a dozen years or so. They’re in it for the long haul. But I think the last thing they expected was a record like this.”

Perhaps the biggest revelation to be gleaned from “Life Is Sweet” is the menacing, metallic guitar-playing that McKee demonstrates, not hinted at on past efforts. Having played all the guitar parts herself, McKee is rightfully proud of the results, and resentful of those who come from the “Girls Can’t Play Guitar Like Boys” school.

“I heard [feminist] Camille Paglia talking on TV, saying there’s no women playing lead guitar because it requires so much testosterone and male ego to go onstage and thrust your pelvis out behind the guitar like that,” she mused. “Well, I really took offense to that. Women are just as sexual--we can have the same mental and emotional testosterone level as a male, even if we don’t have it physically. I think that rock ‘n’ roll is androgynous, and that’s the beauty of it. There should be more women doing it. Maybe it’s unexpected on my part because you had this demure singer-songwriter with a good voice and all of a sudden she’s got this ax.”

McKee had the benefit of her sibling’s experience to point her in the rock ‘n’ roll direction. Half-brother Bryan was an essential member of the highly influential Love, whose sway far eclipsed its record sales in the ‘60s.

“His influence was huge,” said McKee. “I was weaned on Love; that’s all I heard for the first years of my life. Bryan and I are extremely close. We’re 18 years apart, and we have different fathers, but we grew up together. I don’t think I really used to realize the impact Love had on rock ‘n’ roll until I was bit older and could comprehend it. He didn’t handle my success well at first and would get jealous, but now he’s proud of me. And I feel like I could never live down the impact Love had--that’s a huge shadow to be under.”

Only time will tell whether the new, bolder version of Maria McKee will be the one to finally get her the recognition she deserves. But whether she soars up the charts or falls on her face, there will be no looking back this time, and there will be no apologies.

“I’ve finally taken a very firm stand, and I need to stay committed to where this new beginning is,” she said. “I have no other option. I’m not about to do an about-face this time.”

* Maria McKee performs Wednesday at the Galaxy Concert Theatre, 3503 S. Harbor Blvd., Santa Ana. 8 p.m. $11-$13. (714) 957-0600.