EDWIN MCCAIN Getting back to his folk roots

The artist aimed for a stripped-down, live feel on his latest recording.
By MATT PEIKEN
KNIGHT RIDDER NEWSPAPERS
You're forgiven for mistaking Edwin McCain for a country musician.
The gravel and hint of twang in his voice come straight out of the South -- McCain lives in Greenville, S.C. -- and he sings stories without abstraction, laying bare the loves, longings and loneliness that tend to stream out of Nashville recording studios.
But if the spirit of rebellion accounts for anything, not to mention history, McCain is all rock 'n' roll.
After joining the ranks of artists bruised and tattooed by relationships with big record companies, McCain has forged out on his own. He built his fifth album, "The Austin Sessions" (ATC Records), on a foundation of acoustic guitar. As a companion to the album, McCain has also released a DVD, "Mile Marker: Songs and Stories From the Acoustic Highway."
"The Austin Sessions" draws tight to his roots in folk music, McCain says -- a record Atlantic Records, which produced his four previous albums, would never let him make.
A live feel
"This is about as opposite of anything else I've done," he says by phone from his home. "It's really stripped down -- not overproduced, or barely produced -- as close to what you'd hear if you came to a show right now."
Fans of McCain's brand of "heartland rock" -- folk-inspired balladry and comfortable rock sing-alongs -- won't be disappointed with the new disc. Gone, though, are the orchestral and keyboard parts that gave his songs such grand sweep. Much of "The Austin Sessions" comes off as a solo acoustic record, delivered in the vein of one-to-one storytelling.
Tailoring songs for commercial airplay, a consistent concern of Atlantic Records, never entered McCain's mind.
"I really don't like making records. It's very sterile, and for me, it doesn't hold the essence of music, which is a shared emotional exchange between a performer and audience," he says. "We made this record in a week, and that's kinda the point for me. We turned on the microphones and sang and played, and it was pretty much down to one or two takes. This album should be what you'd hear if I went to your house and pulled out a guitar and started playing."
Atlantic's orders
McCain admits to digging his share of the hole he recently climbed out of. Connections with Darius Rucker and Hootie and the Blowfish, also from South Carolina, led to the contract with Atlantic. Backed by their bank accounts, McCain went along with whatever executives wanted.
They asked him to watch his weight -- even turn in training schedules -- so he could look lean for video shoots.
"At the time we got a deal, I was doing 300 shows a year in a rental truck, so it was for the betterment of me and the guys in my band to put gel in my hair and put new clothes on," he says. "Do I look back on some of that stuff and cringe? Absolutely, but it sustained our careers for a while."
His relationship with Atlantic Records at least bought an otherwise elusive measure of visibility, McCain says, and he hopes to keep the fans he won during that era for years to come.
More teenagers are coming to his concerts than ever before, he says, and he's fielding offers to write songs for the Backstreet Boys, O-Town and other pop groups. He's even produced country music with Kid Rock.
"My audience is so wide and diverse, and the only thing I can base it on is that the songs are based on real life," he says. "They're cinematic in the way they tell stories and a lot of stuff is real personal to me, and I guess that's something people want to hear."