MAXIMUM MAXWELL
A Reluctant Sex symbol Gets His Groove Back
By Todd Inoue

If contemporary r&b had eyes, they'd be leering ones, peeking down the shirts, rubbernecking butt cheeks before inspecting the contents of the back pocket. And before you can get the license plate of whoever ass-swiped you, the eyes have wandered to another victim.

It's a shame Maxwell's expressive, literate, romantic soul gets lumped in with the thongs and t-backs. Maxwell wants the woman to come first but not just in the sexual way. As he says in the opening couplet of his new single "Get to Know Ya": "Brothers were trying to get into your trousers, I was just trying to get into you."

"It's gotten more carnal," Maxwell says of the increasingly ribald r&b songs that bookend his on the radio. "When you get put into a situation where you do music, it's a great opportunity to be a 'ho. I'm 27 now and that style doesn't work for me. The example that you present will mean a lot in the end in how long you hang around. I can't wait for more substantive energies to come to the fore."

Maxwell placed women on a pedestal on his debut Urban Hang Suite. He entered a woman's heart through the brain via Embrya. His winsome smile parenthesized by sideburns made him poster boy of the neo-soul movement, whatever that is. Three years in the making, Maxwell's new album Now (Columbia, out July 24) is his official re-entry into public as a person in love with creating and taking chances.

But first, some history. Maxwell grew up in Brooklyn, son of a Puerto Rican mother and West Indian father, a self-described geek with no game. While his mother sheltered him from the rough neighborhood, his love affair with music began: Nick Drake, Led Zeppelin, Kate Bush, Boogie Down Productions and De La Soul had equal cachet. He tapped out songs on a Casio keyboard, the one with the orange drum pads, before laying down his first tracks.

Today, Maxwell's become one of the world's most-wanted r&b vocalists. His songs aren't the garden-variety crotch rot. His buttercup-smooth falsetto would make Smokey and Prince proud. He's achingly modest. He hangs imaginary quotation marks around the words "sex symbol" and poo-poos all that yadda-yadda-yadda about his "sexy" image. "It's so weird," he says. "Coming from the experience of being nerdy in school, I don't connect with the attention. I just have fun with it." On tour, he included a hilarious sequence where he broke down the kind of guy he was: the kind that'll paint your toenails, scrub your back and then go to the store and buy you tampons. The girls were instantly locked and whatever guy that wasn't until then was right next to him the rest of the trip.

Maxwell stresses that for the past two years he lived as normal a life as any other N.Y.C. apartment dweller. His success allowed him to travel back and forth to Puerto Rico, but mostly he commandeered a typical existence. He read a lot of books, threw out the garbage and lumped his dirty drawers to the Laundromat. His trophy case might have more platinum records and Soul Train Award statuettes than Hummels or Lladro figures, but both need dusting. "Fame distorts the experience," he says, his voice raising a hair. "I don't know when you talk to other celebrities but some of them I meet and they only relate to who they are. I can't be that kind of person. I have to be able to relate to people, read books. It's not like 'I'm Maxwell and this is what I've done for the past five years, don't you know me?'"

Here's a news flash: Maxwell is human, though his fans might beg to differ. He would have differed with you, too, when he got caught in the hype machine as Urban Hang Suite blew up. Maxwell checked himself into the boards hard enough to warrant a game misconduct. "I'd be lying to you if I said I didn't think those things," he says. "You see your face all big and your name all huge and see all these people coming to watch you. Your ego wants to go 'Yeah, I'm the shit, I'm the shit.' You have to check yourself as best you can. This is a moment. Everyone has their time. Keep it in perspective. Try to do what you can in the time you're in it. With that attitude you can be around for a long time." The Urban Hang Suite tour built up Maxwell's reputation with crepe suits, choreographed routines, lit staircases and a front-stage fan to keep his blow-out afro in motion. Sobered by the experience, Maxwell entered the studio and learned how much follow-up records are wrapped up in expectation. In 1998, Embrya confounded the critics and fans with its difficult-to-read song titles and surreal lyricism. This was definitely not Urban Hang Suite Part II, it was more A Love Supreme but it could have just as been Metal Machine Music to some fans expecting "Sumthin' Sumthin'." He canceled the supporting tour to sort out some family problems. "It was definitely for personal reasons, family stuff," he says. "I had to be honorable to that. I love my career, I love what my career stands for, but my family and loved ones are my unit. They are the foundation that I'm built on. Luckily, I had enough people who were respectful and patient enough to let me be a human being for a time."

Though Embrya went on to sell buckets of records, you wouldn't have known it gauging video and radio airplay. Maxwell was gratified to learn that he could operate from the heart and the fans will be there. A single on the Life soundtrack, "Fortunate," gave him added courage. "I needed to know it wasn't about an afro and an old soul sound," he says. "I needed to know it was about what I like to do musically. The fear of not being liked is hard for some artists. I needed to go through that, just the risk of it was important. You can't please the world.

"It's important for me not to operate out of fear," he adds. "I'm a lot more comfortable with who I am. I know that if I wanted to go all the way left I'd still be able to survive. The outlets of radio or press don't govern or keep my career going. And that's a good thing to know, especially before you're 30."

Maxwell's firmly locked on the task at hand. Now's songs emerged from the heart, not manufactured by contemporary r&b's narrow specifications. The joy of letting go can be felt throughout.

"It was a good lesson for me," he explains. "A lot of times I had the song a certain way and was teetering. There was a conflict. Should I change it? Should I not? Then I'd kind of wait and let it sit with me. I just said, 'This is who I am.' It's like a kid who has one blue eye and one green eye who says 'this is me.'"

"David Bowie being the kid," he adds with a laugh.

Now opens with a propulsive jam built around the guitar play of Wah Wah Watson. The legendary soul-funk guitarist of Marvin Gaye and Barry White brings his own brand of hot sauce to the party.

The upbeat moments are ratcheted up. Memphis-style horns add crunch to "Get to Know Ya" and the title track. Tribal bass, synthesized drums and guitar add a Cameo quality to "Temporary Night."

"Lifetime" could be Maxwell's finest moment yet, a reflection on times past with a third eye toward the future. "Lifetime" incites goosebumps in the way "Diamonds and Pearls" does. A luscious studio remake of Kate Bush's "This Woman's Work" closes out the set.

"It's funny that the third album sums up, for me, this era of how I make music," Maxwell says. "I'm thinking very differently now. At the tail end of the album I have songs created in a whole 'nother approach. It ends this era for me. If Urban Hang was past, Embrya somewhat the future, Now is the eternal moment that encompasses that."


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