Maplewood- Maplewood, Teepee Records 2004

Maplewood- Maplewood, Teepee Records 2004

Canyon rock, though not dark and sandy a la Howe Gelb/Giant Sand, nor reverberating the Sonorant mariachi and trumpet call of Calexico. Maplewood’s desert is more aligned with casino lights and guilty pop pleasure. I can’t claim to be familiar with many of their press-release-touted influences, save for Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young and a passing acquaintance with America and The Byrds. On first listen to the self-titled LP, I expected the lyrics to be more tongue-in–cheek, to provide balance to the sweet California pop vocals and twanging twelve string guitar. It wasn’t until I listened to the promo the old fashioned way (on my antiquated Discman) while on a lunch time stroll through the fallen leaves in central park, did the music click. Somewhere amongst the earthy scent of autumn and the crisp fall air, I let loose the bindings of work and put my thumb on how Maplewood fit in my personal mosaic of music. The sincere vocal emoting, cloying yet honest harmony, and jangle-pop strumming nudged awake a more youthful me.

Imagine yourself at 16- crowded five across in the back seat of a borrowed car, barreling down Ocean Parkway, punch drunk and high on life. Thick with the thrill of escape and heady with adolescent omnipotence, we reveled in music. More often than I’d admit beyond the veil of the internet, we dabbled in CSNY, along-side Simon and Garfunkel, and (embarrassingly enough) The Grateful Dead. In retrospect, it seems this was our way of balancing musical plates- a nice contrast to the mope rock, grunge, and heavy industrial music we devoured as a testament to our righteous youth. When it came time for a high speed sing-along, we wanted bright harmony and buoyant strumming. “Judy Blue Eyes” as opposed to the pain-stricken Cure lyrics we devoted our days to carving into notebooks. Even the most studied cynic amongst us needs to fancy our sweet tooth from time to time.

This is not a release I’d place in every-day rotation- not to its discredit, rather its something that best hits target when you are feeling wistful and reaping the leaves of autumn (while pining to sow the seeds of youth). Maplewood tickles the quiet part that lingers on “classic” rock stations on lengthy road trips and unabashedly sings along to “Uncle John’s Band” (though you’d never admit this to friends). Embracing the Beach Boys and Scott Walker, reminiscent of CSNY and the Allmans’, the band finds its roots in music mostly ignored by contemporary indie bands.

Article Author: Jen Rajkowski

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