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Welcome to the Dollhouse

It's the Christmas season in the diminutive Aladdin's cave-like flat owned by Maria McKee and her husband and collaborator Jim Akin. Vaudeville posters flying faded depression era circus colors and Italian majolica plates adorn the chipped and peeling walls. Retro glass bulbs in primary crayon colors hang from the stag antlers fixed above a rosewood lamp carved into a bust of a Balinese native.

The Christmas tree is hung with German glass cherubs and aquatic figures. There are Victorian scraps on gold paper and colorful feathered birds. The digs are decrepit and decadent, bedazzling and raw, confounding and confronting. Much like the music.

Ms McKee sits at the tiny dining room table in a tattered Chinese opera robe. Her fingers are adorned with several unusual antique rings. One of which, she informs me, is a mourning bauble; a funereal urn painted on ivory circa 1749. Her black pug puppy, "Ooh" lays across the table legs outstretched behind her like a frog. I feel as if at any moment a tarot deck may be recovered from some secret cache deep within the finely embroidered surroundings and my destiny bantered about like a pet toy by this enigmatic woman with the flawless freckled skin, pale jade eyes and Dorothy Parker wit. At nearly 43, McKee could certainly no longer be classified as a waif. Her rounder edges and raven hair evoke a resemblance to the "Reflections in a Golden Eye" era Liz Taylor. She speaks in an effortless old Hollywood drawl. One would not be shocked to hear her sentences punctuated with, "Daaaahling!" What people seem to keep missing about McKee, is that she is at least 95% Bette Davis and about 5% Bonnie Raitt.

"I suppose some people may be thrown a-back by the new album."

Hmmm, seems I've heard that before. She is referring to her latest release, "Late December", produced by McKee and her husband Jim. "Especially in light of the fact that maybe longtime fans felt they could breathe easier again after the last album."

She is referring now to 2005's "Peddlin' Dreams". A gentler, more roots-y album. "I like 'Peddlin' Dreams". I'm proud of it. It is solid. But 'Late December' is current for me. It is an album I love to listen to. It is music I like."

Is it really that simple?

"Well, shouldn't it be?"

The album clicks on with the spare urban groove of the title track, betraying producer Jim Akin's passion for hip hop. The vocals are warm and familiar to fans of McKee's dramatic mezzo soprano caresses. The background vocals are part Joni, part Aretha. Then suddenly, she breaks into a subtly street smart Lou Reed style rap summing up the bittersweet atmosphere of the season in a town fraught with extremes.

"Oh!" she says, her luminous eyes gleaming blue now. New York. Loooooove New York. It's a New York song. Can't live there anymore, but the passion lives on. My one great-unrequited love. God's country, as my grandmother liked to call it."

Daaaahling!

Her whispered lyrics, "…and the Westside boys sing an ode to joy…" before the street choir climax of the final chorus seem like an obvious nod to Reed's "Walk on the Wild Side". Was it intentional?

"You assimilate you're influences in a deep, deep way when you're a music fanatic. They rise and fall like waves. What are you going to do!? You can't live in a cave! "OH!" She stops and listens to the TV which has been blaring in at least two rooms during my entire visit. "Listen!" she gasps. It is the fabled "Drummer Boy" duet by Bing Crosby and David Bowie. "Heaven on earth!" she sighs, rapt. She strains her head dreamily toward the music, then suddenly, "Anyway," sharp, "…speaking of influences, it's true. I identify with Bowie because of his sense of melody and theatre. Whether it's folk, soul, prog rock, glam, new wave. Doesn't matter. It's quite simple, really."

The finest example of "Melody and Theatre" on "Late December", would have to be the lilting waltz of the final cut on the album, the black humorously titled "Starving Pretty". Its acrid use of morbid wit to describe a decaying relationship is reminiscent of Stephen Sondheim, another hero of McKee's.

"Oh yes, since infancy!" she exclaims with an almost "mais, vraiment, peasant!" air to her voice.

"That line '…scoring a balance of wit, we'd work it out in the sack. But warring prolific soon made us lose interest in that…' It's an attempt at that uber-rhyming style that he's just so brilliant at. A rhyme on every other count, or so. I can't come close of course, but I understand it. I try to follow his tenants as much as I can. Like never mis-accenting words, things like that."

Speaking of infancy, why, at this time, re-record "A Good Heart"? A song you wrote at the tender age of eighteen?

"Why? Well it was a massive hit, first of all, and because it is ripe for covering. May as well be me, right? It's a solid little tune, if I do say so. Entertained the idea of recording a version of "Teenage Kicks" but thought better of it."

After galloping off to a glamorously pop-y start with the title track, the warmly vulnerable vocal of "A Good Heart" and the Bowie-esque Motown stomp of the Akin co-penned "No Other Way to Love You", the album twists midway into new terrain. The now familiar, operatic "collage-work" style which helped to redefine her as an artist on the momentous "Life is Sweet" album and the ambitious 2003 release "High Dive" has once again reared it's ragged head in all it's irreverent glory. Chagrin to some, a joy to others.

The rock opera romp of "Destine" can only be described as a kind of punk rock homage to "Queen". The Patti Smith meets Jim Steinman anthem "One Eye on the Sky" bursts out of the speakers with the help of McKee's now trademark ridiculous and sublime yowling guitar work. The heartbreaking ballad, "My First Night Without You", with it's devastating Dolly Parton-esque melodies; strident string movements and Zeppelin like rhythm section will satisfy fans of "Life is Sweet" 's quietly apocalyptic "I'm Awake"

Lone Justice fans need not despair, however. The track "Too Many Heroes" is an "East of Eden" for the new millennium. Boisterous, playful and resplendent with guitar player Jerry Andrews's Dicky Betts meets Jack White retro riffs.

The nemesis of "Too Many Heroes," is a truly bizarre post punk jazz offering entitled, "Scene of the Affair". Who is responsible for this befuddling little bijoux?

"Oh, that!" laughs, "My husband Jim wrote a track that was provisionally titled "goth song", for obvious reasons. I woke up one night around four AM, you know, the witching hour, and these James Ellroy 'noir' lyrics came spilling out."

I believe it may be your most ambitious vocal to date. I think it is nearly indescribable.

"Scary and fun! Jacques Brel meets John Lydon! Oh well, I open my mouth…If it passé Jim's muster, I know it's not insane to the point of alienating thousands of fans, Just several hundred!" Laughs.

What about your husband Jim? His contribution seems to fertilize your ideas with a profound sense of focus both musically and professionally. You've never been more prolific.

"It's true. He keeps the home fires a-burnin'…" Laughs. "But really, if it weren't for him I may have been retired by now. It's his band, his studio, his extraordinary musical talents and professional work ethic that keep me going. He brings me songs to finish, melodic ideas to flesh out and lyrical themes to pursue. Like the New York idea on "December". I love the city, but it was his idea. "

Haven't you fought long and hard to extricate yourself from Svengali-like influences in your life? Your brother Bryan, Jimmy Iovine, Bono?

Laughs, "It's different with Jim. I trust him. We have the same goals. Make great art and sleep well at night. It's good honest work, after all!"

Again, that deep, loud throaty laugh. Unsettling and warm. Like the music.