Matthew Sweet first dipped his toe into the mainstream in 1991 with Girlfriend, a rambunctious pre-grunge, power pop landmark that ushered in a wave of Crazy Horse and Big Star-worshipping bands like the Posies and Teenage Fanclub. Ever since then, the transplanted Nebraskan songwriter has been critically praised as a kind of slacker Brian Wilson whose emotionally damaged yet highly melodic works, steeped in ’60s and ’70s influences, has garnered him a cult reputation as an atavistic avatar of an earlier time, when recording artists holed up in tiny studios to make big tuneful rock records with their bare hands.

Sweet followed up with the critically acclaimed Altered Beast (1993) and 100% Fun (1995), but shortly after 1997’s Blue Sky on Mars began to suffer the slings and arrows of corporate commercial expectations and missed sales targets. All of this did nothing to quell Sweet’s admittedly severe bouts of anxiety and legendary fear of air travel. As a result, he has flown largely below the mainstream radar for the latter half of the decade, and most of this one.

Not that he was some kind of Brian Wilson-like recluse or anything. Besides a recurring role in the Austin Powers trilogy—playing Ming Tea guitarist “Sid Belvedere”—Sweet released a few low-key solo albums: In Reverse (1999), the Japanese-only release Kimi Ga Suki* Raifu (2003), and Living Things (2004), also playing an active role in collaborations with Pete Droge and Shawn Mullins in The Thorns (2003) and, recently, Susanna Hoffs of the Bangles on the ’60s homage, Under the Covers, Vol. 1 (2006).

Sweet credits the latter collaborations for inspiring the loose vitality in evidence on his self-assured new solo album, Sunshine Lies, which brims with mayhem, melodicism, and, in places, something approaching peace of mind.

Speaking on the phone from Lolina Green, his home studio near Laurel Canyon—the fabled LA birthplace of so much great ’60s and ’70s California rock—Sweet is upbeat, laughing easily, and often explains his current approach to writing, recording, and marketing his music.

“Working with Sue,” Sweet admits, “really helped me get back into the mode of having creative fun in the studio. The first Under the Covers album… and even The Thorns… were both very helpful to me as a person because they got me out of familiar territory and, in turn, helped me get perspective when I returned to doing my own thing.”

He’s likewise enthused about the business model he currently enjoys with his present label, Shout! Factory, which he believes is more realistic and artist-friendly.

“If I can sell 15- to 20,000 records, then we get to make another record,” Sweet explains with a chuckle. “It’s smaller, you know, which is better for someone like me. I’m not going to get up and try to imitate whatever the current music is, which is probably the only way someone my age could make a mark now.”

It’s a pragmatic adjustment for Sweet, who woefully recalls the late ’90s, when diminishing commercial returns often made him feel more like a devalued commodity than an artist.

“I mean, even in my best years,” Sweet admits, “I never really lived up to whatever they wished I would be. I just had to keep being me, though, and keep my nose to the grindstone. Something I really hated living in LA over the ’90s were articles by these music journalists who were literally only concerned with who was selling the most units. It was as if selling a million was more important than if the artist was any good. It’s easy to see now how that attitude probably helped erode the industry, although I think that may have happened anyway with the internet.”

Sweet is emphatic and optimistic about the democratizing opportunities brought about by the internet and recent advances in home recording technology.

“More and more,” says Sweet with palpable zeal, “I just see how much the internet has been this amazing force for change! I really believe it’s gonna continue to change the whole world. And with the newer versions of digital recording software, I’m finally able to make it sound really good like a record should, right here in my room. Pro Tools, to me, just was not good enough until they upgraded to HD around 2001 or 2002. After that, I didn’t care so much about tape anymore. Tape is great, but I see now even the most die-hard tape guys are using digital.”

Such technological improvements enabled Sweet to produce and engineer Sunshine Lies all by himself from the cozy calm of Lolina Green.