Singer Raul Malo's solo work is in the comfort zone but, unlike his band, he hasn't 'tapped out creatively', he tells Tony Clayton-Lea
It has been said of Raul Malo - the man behind the success of The Mavericks, the country music band for people who don't like country music - that he could sing a tax form and make an auditor believe every word. This kind of description of Malo's voice has followed him everywhere, from his early performing days in Miami as an Elvis Presley and Roy Orbison obsessive to his current home in Nashville, where he has lived for more than 10 years and where his creative sensibilities and business nous seem to fit right in.
The Mavericks are taking a break right now, thanks for asking, but Malo probably wouldn't be sitting pretty if it weren't for the Miami band's success - a success that has depended on a canny blend of consciously popular marketing moves and a catch-all approach to country panache, rock'n'roll exuberance and pop songcraft. Yet when the band played Dublin a couple of years ago, it was clear to all but the most purblind of fans that they were in need of an energy injection. Routine had started to ossify the band's joints in a show that mixed country cabaret (a Mavericks medley, anyone?) with tired rock'n'roll. Malo, no fool he, looks back on that particular tour with less than fondness.
"That was part of the reason why I ventured off to do my solo stuff," he says, sitting on his Nashville porch, sipping from his mug of coffee. What he says next hits the nail on the head; clearly, Malo is not one for diplomacy, and you'd wonder how his band mates might regard the following comments: "The Mavericks have done what they've done, and that's it, there's nowhere else to go. I think we've tapped out creatively.
"For me, the shows, after a while, started to get a bit stale. When you do so many they all start to run into each other, and you hit the point where you start doing medleys of your hits. I swore years ago that I would never do medleys of songs - I'd rather not do them. Every time I would see a legendary artist, the first thing they'd do would be a medley of their hits, and I always hated that. But when you do hundreds of shows a year, it's impossible to keep it fresh and invigorating.
"I'm not whining or saying it's a difficult thing. It's just a natural progression in the life cycle of an artist - it happens."
Hence Malo's solo tour of Europe (which includes a sole date in Ireland) and a forthcoming solo album, You're Only Lonely, a collection of cover versions given a suitably mellow Malo touch.
"I like to challenge myself, keep it interesting," he says. "I've always done that and probably suffered career-wise for it to some degree. By the same token, I have a measure of creative freedom that a lot of artists don't have. If I feel like doing an album of covers, then I will - and I will enjoy myself immensely doing it. It's different, as is the show I'm bringing to Ireland and Europe.
"It's also fulfilling in a different manner from going on tour with a full band in that it's good to connect with an audience in a very intimate and real way."
The future of The Mavericks aside, Malo is fully aware that his own career is dependent on his voice and the songs he chooses to sing. What's perhaps more interesting is where he sees himself going with several Mavericks hits and a batch of songs written by other people. The trick, he implies, is to make sure you choose songs that are terrific but aren't too well known by the public. Result? You have material that is familiar but not ubiquitously so. Smart guy.
"I wanted to interpret other people's songs, which I had never really done," he says. "They had to be songs that I felt I could sing in a very convincing way, that it sounded as if I wrote them. What I mean by that is they had to have a natural sound, songs that were not forced or contrived, songs that wouldn't take me too much out of my own element, even though I worked hard to do them justice and to do them right."
Songs rendered in Malo's convincing, copyright-on-heartbreak way include the title track, You're Only Lonely, by JD Souther, Randy Newman's Feel Like Home, Mark Gordon's At Last (made famous by Etta James), and So Sad, by The Everly Brothers. There is also a nod to modernity in the inclusion of Ron Sexsmith's Secret Heart.
To a song, says Malo, they are the kind "you can interpret well and sound comfortable singing to an audience. Every song on the record I could sing with either guitar or piano and sing it to a crowd".
Without a rough edge to its material, however, it seems as if Malo's album - and the man himself - is staking out a largely middle-ground constituency. There's no sign as yet that Malo will go the way of The Mavericks and become his own tribute act, but if he is to forge an identity beyond that of his silky voice, he is perhaps going to have to move more assertively over tougher ground.
"When you sing other people's songs, especially songs that have been done before," he remarks, "you have to find your own way of doing it without being blasphemous to the track. There's a fine line. For example, the Etta James version of At Last is holy ground, untouchable. But as far as I knew there were no male versions of that song, so I felt comfortable in doing that. The version we offer is a nice version of a great song. You have to find the balance."
Raul Malo plays Whelan's, Dublin, on Sun, Apr 17. Tickets cost 32.50, plus booking fee, and are available from Ticketmaster (0818-719300/ www.ticketmaster.ie). His new album, You're Only Lonely, is scheduled for release in the summer