Maxwell returns, refreshed and ready to tour

NEW YORK - Six-plus years ago Maxwell went out for some orange juice and gave up his career. Or at least that's how it seemed to fans of the mono-monikered R&B star.

In 2001 he was flashing across television screens with the hit single "Lifetime" from his third studio album, "Now." It was his fourth release in five years - including a live "MTV Unplugged" set - and the tour for the platinum-selling disc was leaving a trail of faint women in its wake. The five-time Grammy nominee was already talking up his fifth disc. And then . . . nothing. Or as friend and fan Stephen Hill, interim president of the BET cable network, puts it, "radio silence."

Relaxing on the semi-private outdoor patio of a Tuscan restaurant in Chelsea on a crisp fall day, the man who helped define the neo-soul movement of the late '90s with his knee-buckling falsetto and blown-out Afro is trying to explain where he's been. He's got as many reasons for his disappearing act as a reporter has ways to ask questions about it.

Some are half in jest ("I like when Democrats are in office, personally, when I'm releasing records") and others more pragmatic ("Our industry was changing"). But of all the reasons he gives during a cheerful, hour-long conversation punctuated by grins and guffaws, the bottom line is that, mostly, Maxwell was tired. And in order to reconnect with his muse, he needed to reconnect with himself.

"I think I had just had my fill," says the 35-year-old in a voice laced with gravel, in complete opposition to his angelic tenor. "I felt like I was spent in terms of what I could be creatively inspired by. I was doing this for a while."

Maxwell was signed in his early 20s to a major label and was essentially instantly successful. Part of a new wave of artists, including Erykah Badu and D'Angelo, who embraced old-school R&B sensibilities, Maxwell had a buttery, loverman-with-a-brain persona that was irresistible. With the release of his 1996 debut, "Urban Hang Suite," Maxwell - that's his middle name, which he has always used professionally - got on the treadmill and didn't stop running.

On the eve of his first tour in six years, which kicks off at the Opera House Wednesday, Maxwell is ready to get his newly shorn head back in the game. Gone are the signature hair and urban hippie style in favor of the close-cropped 'do and elegant ensemble of black and gray vest, shirt, and tie he sports today. He plans to tour the world for the next two years as he releases "Black Summer's Night," a trilogy of diverse discs with each one taking one word from that title.

"Black," which Maxwell promises will be dark yet full of "baby-making songs," should be out in early 2009, with the more gospel-oriented "Summer's" following in 2010, and the musically adventurous "Night" - Brian Eno was name-checked during the interview - in 2011.

Between bites of seared ahi tuna, the Brooklyn-born musician swears a lengthy hiatus was not on his mind when he came off the road from promoting "Now."

"The first day we got back I wrote something called 'Help Somebody,' which is actually on the album, so I was always working. I had no idea it was going to be six years."

Diehard fans who knew he was at work on an epic record wondered if he was living in the studio 24/7, consumed with getting that last cowbell sound just right in some kind of tortured urban variation on Guns N' Roses's "Chinese Democracy."

"I was working on it off and on, but it was just the musical climate was changing. I was changing. I was turning 30 at the time. I think I was trying to find new inspiration, but I hadn't lived that much, you know?" he says. "And I didn't drink or go out or go to clubs. [In] my 20s there was just such focus because I just wanted to get out of the ghetto and I wanted to succeed as much as I could possibly succeed, and I hadn't been a regular person."

So Maxwell went about the business of being a regular person. He would work on his records, with longtime collaborators like guitarist Wah Wah Watson and multi-instrumentalist-producers Stuart Matthewman and Hod David, and then punch out to hang with friends and family. "I can't say that I missed it because I really enjoyed living a pretty average, regular life walking down the street with no Afro and no real recognition, sometimes literally going to get milk and orange juice and stuff," he says.

But when you've been successful in the entertainment arena some fans naturally wonder why anyone would walk away. Speculation occasionally swirled that there must be some unreported scandal delaying Maxwell's re-entry, along the lines of fellow neo-soul singer D'Angelo's woes.

"That's what I think was the most puzzling thing for mostly the media to even understand," says Lisa Ellis, executive vice president of Sony Music Label Group, which encompasses Maxwell's longtime imprint, Columbia. "No, he didn't crash. No, he didn't gain 500 pounds. No, he didn't have a drug problem. No, he didn't go off the deep end. He was just living."

"People immediately think something's wrong," Maxwell says with a laugh that mingles mirth and disbelief. "It blows my mind that people would think so naturally that being onstage and being in the public eye is something so great and you should be wanting to do that every day, 24 hours a day."

What he didn't do was keep his name fresh in people's minds by making featured appearances singing hooks or adding soul flavor to other people's records, which became the norm in the years he was off.

He confirms that artists did come to him, and he did pop up to croon on rapper Nas's "No One Else in This Room" in 2004, but by and large he stayed unplugged. "It's not that I turned it down; I just wasn't interested in the music industry," he says.

Luckily, they were still interested in him. Ellis, who had been in touch with Maxwell frequently over the years, said patience was not a problem. "I knew where he was and what he was doing," she says. She had been hearing snippets of his new music and liking it. Yes, she says, they would've liked to release something sooner, but she knew Maxwell was recharging his batteries and picking his spot for re-entry carefully.

As the Internet and new media began to reshape the music industry, Maxwell thought it might be wise to sit out the first wave of the revolution.

"There were so many people getting fired at the label," he says of Columbia Records. "Any time there was someone designated to do something for a certain artist they weren't there the next week. So I felt like, 'While everyone's figuring it out, let me go figure it out, too.' And now creatively I feel really happy, I feel ready. I think the BET thing was a really encouraging experience for me."

The "BET thing" was the singer's surprise appearance on the network's Al Green tribute in June. He tore the house down with his version of Green's "Simply Beautiful."

"When he walked out, the united gasp intake of air in the room was just stunning to hear," says BET's Hill, who hoped that coaxing Maxwell back onto a stage would give him a friendly kick in the pants. Apparently, it worked, and the network is sponsoring the singer's new tour. "I just wanted to get him in front of people again and quite frankly, as a fan and a friend, remind everybody how much we loved him and remind him how much everybody loved him."

Maxwell shakes his head in amazement that several dates on the tour have already sold out and that buzz is building.

"I'm so grateful that people even care at this point," says Maxwell, who is eager to debut new material from "Black Summer's Night" on the tour. "The industry just always tries to scare you: 'Oh, you can't go away for no two years. [Expletive], you can't go away for six months, you can't go away for six days! You need to be on it,' " he says snapping his fingers for emphasis.

Leaning back, he smiles and says, "You know, there's something to be said for letting people miss you."

Sarah Rodman can be reached at srodman@globe.com.