Mike Rosas likes to do his thinking out loud. Very loud.
But ramming home ideas at high volume with Smile, the Orange County modern-rock trio he has fronted since 1991, doesn't mean Rosas always stands behind what he sings. Sometimes he's just trying on those thoughts for size.
The tiny, soft-spoken, chipmunk-cute guitarist and his only slightly less-diminutive bandmates, drummer Scott Reeder and bassist Bob Thomson, took pains during a recent interview at their Costa Mesa rehearsal studio to make it clear that, contrary to anything you might glean from their new album, "Girl Crushes Boy," they really, really like living in Orange County.
As for "Peach and Brown," an acute, eight-minute skewering of the materialistic suburban mind-set that is one of many highlights on Smile's catchy, adventurous second album--well, that's what can happen when you do your thinking out loud. The song's title alludes to a common architectural color scheme in Irvine, where Rosas grew up.
Peach and brown, that's my town
Stay away, stay away if you know what's good for you.
Live to shop and raise your kids
To meet your goals, and sell their souls to rock 'n' roll . . .
It's what we get for being lazy.
"I had a problem with it because of the lyrics," Rosas, 25, admitted. "They sounded like more of a statement than I wanted to make. But I gave up and decided I shouldn't have a problem with it because it was a cool song anyway.
"There are places like that everywhere, cookie-cutter suburban communities," he said. "Which I love, by the way. Don't think for a minute I'm shunning it. I love the mall. I love Orange County."
"There's a lot of people who put it down, but I think it's really cool," added Reeder, 27, who grew up in Barstow and viewed Orange County as the promised land when he moved here in 1989.
At 30, Thomson is one of the more experienced and road-tested modern rockers the O.C. scene has produced. He's been at it since he was a founding member of the respected Big Drill Car in 1986, and he takes pride in being about as Costa Mesan as you can get.
"I tell Bob, 'Damn, I'm envious you grew up in Costa Mesa,' " noted Reeder, who has nothing kind to say about Barstow.
OK. But then how is it that Smile makes its big statement with a song that, though not so blatantly outspoken as Rikk Agnew's scathing, 1982 punk classic "O.C. Life," could serve as its bookend in kicking O.C. right in one of its most vulnerable--and at least partly truthful--stereotypes?
The answer, said Rosas, is that, he doesn't want "Peach and Brown" to be taken as a "statement"--important as it is reflecting the band's growing ambition and confidence as it weaves melodic hooks, attractive, shifting guitar tones and deftly structured episodic musical ideas.
"A lot of the lyrics are instant, first feelings that aren't really thought through," he said. "Maybe I don't stand behind them 100%, but it really helps me think about what I'm feeling.
"A song can be just like a person. You should see the moods and different sides and dimensions. People have so much going on, and the music should as well. An album shouldn't be a manifesto or anything etched in stone that you swallow and live your life according to it."
Rosas' other main lyrical theme is more straightforward, as reflected in the album title.
"There's a pattern I find myself getting in with relationships, getting to a point where I feel stuck and trapped and you want to do anything besides hanging out with your girlfriend."
Slippery, Contradictory
Smile always has seemed kind of slippery and contradictory. Its promising 1994 debut album, "Maquee," featured songs that cast a jaundiced, disaffected eye on the culture of hit-spawning modern rock.
Yet smack in the middle of it was "Staring at the Sun," a stately, melodic-grunge artifact that virtually distilled the elements that were enabling Soundgarden and Stone Temple Pilots to climb the charts.
" 'Staring at the Sun' was one of the first songs I ever wrote on my own," Rosas said. "I wasn't aware enough of what I was doing to be able to make any keen observations on the world of pop culture. It was just looking at my friends and me."
Rosas originally recorded the song in 1990 and put it out as a single; he released it under the band name Smile, not wanting to be a solo artist.
Soon he added some players from his alma mater, Woodbridge High, including bassist Aaron Sonnenburg, who stayed with the band until early this year, leaving after "Girl Crushes Boy" was finished. Reeder was recruited in 1992 via a musician-wanted ad.
Smile's luck ran hot in its early days. The trio had started playing at Linda's Doll Hut and informal warehouse parties. O, the front man of O.C./San Diego band Fluf, came to a gig and recommended Smile to Fluf's label, Cargo/Headhunter. "Maquee" appeared in the fall of 1994, taking its name from the nickname of Reeder's best buddy from Barstow.
"We thought it would be a good way to confound people and prompt questions," the drummer recalled.
