Sweet Apple forges bittersweet partnership between Cobra Verde singer, J Mascis
John Petkovic’s parents didn’t approve of a life he has devoted to music in bands such as Death of Samantha, Cobra Verde and most recently, Sweet Apple (which plays Saturday at the Abbey Pub). But he was close to them, Serbian immigrants who instilled in him their intellectual curiosity, independence and resilience.
So it was particularly devastating for Petkovic to watch his tough-as-nails mother whither away from pancreatic cancer three years ago. When she finally succumbed to the disease in December 2007, Petkovic himself was a wreck. He had been sleeping by his mother’s bedside for weeks and was bedeviled by insomnia and weight loss. He couldn’t play guitar because of ligament damage to his right hand. About eight days after she died, he jumped in his car and headed east from his Cleveland home.
“I really didn’t have a destination,” he says. “I just wanted to drive, smoke cigarettes and listen to music.”
So it was particularly devastating for Petkovic to watch his tough-as-nails mother whither away from pancreatic cancer three years ago. When she finally succumbed to the disease in December 2007, Petkovic himself was a wreck. He had been sleeping by his mother’s bedside for weeks and was bedeviled by insomnia and weight loss. He couldn’t play guitar because of ligament damage to his right hand. About eight days after she died, he jumped in his car and headed east from his Cleveland home.
“I really didn’t have a destination,” he says. “I just wanted to drive, smoke cigarettes and listen to music.”
Music had been a refuge for Petkovic as long as he could remember. He found himself unconsciously gravitating toward it again in one of the most depressing moments of his life. His friend, bassist Dave Sweetapple, called and invited Petkovic to visit his Vermont home. The next day, Dinosaur Jr. guitarist J Mascis, who lives in Massachusetts and plays with Sweetapple in the band Witch, dropped in.
“I’ve known J since he came to Death of Samantha’s first show in New York (in the mid-‘80s),” Petkovic says. “I had played with him in (Mascis side project) Fog, and J had played on Cobra Verde records. He came over and right away it was, ‘Let’s work on something.’ ”
Petkovic hadn’t picked up a guitar or thought about music for months because of his medical problems and his mother’s deteriorating health, but songs began pouring out of him. He drove back to Cleveland and began trading MP3 files with his new collaborators. They recorded in Cleveland and Massachusetts and by last year had a finished album, with Mascis primarily playing drums but also handling guitar and vocals, Petkovic on lead vocals and guitar, Sweetapple on bass and Cobra Verde’s Tim Parnin on guitar.
“We had no band name, no plan to tour, no plan to even play a show,” Petkovic says. “We just wanted to record these songs.”
A record deal followed, and the new band dubbed itself “Sweet Apple” in honor of its bass player. No touring was anticipated because everyone had other projects going, but before the release of their debut, “Love & Desperation” (Tee Pee), the band members found themselves at the South by Southwest Music Conference in Austin, Texas, last March where they played a half-dozen shows in a few days.
“The first show was also our first rehearsal – and we got paid!” Petkovic says with a laugh. “Not even the Beatles or the Stones can say that.”
The notion of making music just for the heck of it, with no record-company agenda or collective band goals to consider, freed up the veteran musicians.
“J had an idea for a guitar solo (on thundering lead track ‘Do You Remember’) and I said, ‘Why don’t you play it like Johnny Thunders,’ ” Petkovic says, referring to the late New York Dolls guitarist.
“But I can’t play like Johnny Thunders,” Mascis said.
“Exactly,” Petkovic responded.
“It was a way of getting him out of his routine – it may not sound much like Johnny Thunders when he gets done, but in trying to do that, you get somewhere else,” Petkovic says. “We’re all creatures of habit, so it’s good to break them once in a while.”
The relationship between Petkovic and Mascis is, on the surface at least, an unlikely one. Petkovic is friendly and talkative, Mascis is so reticent he can appear unsociable or even hostile. But Petkovic says they have a long history not just in music but in “going through parallel problems.”
“We make fun of each other a lot,” Petkovic says. “I make fun of him having absolutely nothing to say. People say they’re uncomfortable with his silence, and I just turn the tables on him. That usually gets him going. Or I just talk to him about guitar pedals – that’s like waving a glazed doughnut in front of a sugar freak’s face.”
It’s also clear that Mascis’ presence helped Petkovic regain his footing. Though the Sweet Apple songs had a connection to his mother’s death and its effect on him, Petkovic didn’t want to create a morbid, self-indulgent album.
“It was like hooking up with an old girlfriend, the one you still care about,” Petkovic says of starting to play again after his mom died. “Music is my first love, the one that never let me down, even though I’ve let music down a lot. It’s not about catharsis – I’d go to a therapist if I wanted that. You don’t want to suffocate people with your own thing. That’s why it’s good to realign yourself with different kinds of people, because it will bring other things out of you, things you don’t expect.”
greg@gregkot.com
Sweet Apple: 9 p.m. Saturday at the Abbey Pub, 3420 W. Grace, $12; ticketfly.com.
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