A Sense of Self
Jaco’s influence up to this point had been positive in many ways, but of course there was also a negative aspect to it.
Despite the benefits of being able to play together whenever they liked, the pair had taken the party route a bit too
often. Excessive alcohol consumption had begun to wear on the guitarist, depleting his energies and stressing his home
life. So, after a while it was clear that he needed to chill out. Fortunately the job with Miles was still open to him,
so Mike returned for another year’s work with the maestro. Then, around the next corner he found work with Steps Ahead,
the progress and highly respected ensemble featuring vibraphone virtuoso Mike Mainieri. That led to a spot in a Brecker
Brothers’ quintet, which would again mean a lot more experience.
The years following were busy ones for Mike, and right through 1986 he worked with one headlining act after another.
Still, there was a need to see what he could do on his own terms. It was an insistent (some might say innocent or even
dangerous) curiosity about life outside the bubble. It was 1986, and with his second stay in the Miles Davis unit drawing
to a close he’d managed to put together a band with saxophonist Bob Berg (now deceased) for the recording of his first
solo LP, Upside Downside. The record made its debut on Atlantic Records, marking the start of a ten-disc tenure that
would create a spot for Stern among the leaders of modern jazz guitar. Upside was the record that made it possible for
him to make music under his own name, entirely on his own terms. That was pivotal in Stern’s career not just because it
followed on the heels of the Miles Davis records, but because it was the guitarist’s signature as a writer and musician.
Cuts like “After You,” “Little Shoes” and the title tune were proof of his ability to create music that could stand on
the basis of its solid, song-like structure and cohesive melodies. To put it in other words, Mike Stern made music that
was intriguingly elaborate but totally memorable. The icing on the cake was a set of solos that just totally f***ing
burned. (The writer remembers asking a friend and session guitarist in L.A. if he’d heard Upside, and his immediate
response was, “Jeez, could ya get any more intense!?” That’s the effect this record had on even the most astute players.)
The critical success and very respectable sales of Upside Downside were encouraging for Stern and the powers-that-be at
Atlantic. And because he knew from the start that doing a solo record was the right move from a personal standpoint, he’d
also earned the freedom to compose music that suited his own rules (or lack of them) as a modern electric guitarist.
What followed Upside Downside was the ’88 disc Time in Place, which offered a similar blend of bop-inspired rockers
and emotive ballads, but with a slightly more “mature” sound thanks to the contributions of players like drummer Peter
Erskine, keyboardist Jim Beard and organist Don Grolnick. The next year, though, Stern lit it up again on Jigsaw, with
the New York-based guitarist Steve Khan as producer.
What Stern succeeded in doing, over the next several albums as the leader and soloist in various formats, was to make an
otherwise technocentric genre work on his terms. And those terms would include a range of music and themes from an
increasingly colorful palette, covering everything from standards to hard bop to music of a more global perspective.
There was simply no way to lock him in or tie him down. If you liked what Mike Stern did, you’d go wherever the trip
took you.
Labels Are for Cans
Stern’s previous works emphasize the textures that multiple instruments create when they collide and intertwine—like
the two parallel roads that in some miraculous way intersect. But the recent CD Voices again resists the temptation
to stick with the tried and true. Instead it combines Mike’s guitar with the ensemble voices of singer/bassist
Richard Bona, Philip Hamilton, Elizabeth Kontomanou and the singer/percussionist Arto Tuncboyaciyan (whose talents
have helped make Al Di Meola’s World Sinfonia projects so provocative). This is occasionally called “vocalese,” which
is an attractive way of saying “singing without words.” But if you’re tempted to assume it’s more of that generic
“marina music” for happy times and empty heads, forget it. One listen to the somber “Still There” or the gut-wrenchingly
real “What Might Have Been,” and you’ll understand why some people wear sunglasses around the clock.
Major-label music is very strictly packaged today, of course, and the industry’s lawyers and dealmakers have a
disproportionate say in the process of planning and marketing a project. It’s a circumstance that has polarized the
industry, on one hand feeding the wealth of puppet entertainers while cutting off the opportunities for musicians
who should be just as deserving. One can’t deny that in a world where real music can be seen as odd, and where very
few people would bother to invent music if it didn’t already exist—the general population needs to be told what kind
of music is preferable or valid. Like the guitarist who feels the need to “be” a bluesman or a jazzer, the casual
listener can feel put off or even insulted by music that’s beyond his experience. The industry simply attempts to
eliminate the problem. Quality has nothing to do with it.
So, in a way it’s amazing that we can still buy music that’s made by people like Mike Stern. He simply does what he
does, when he wants and with the musicians he wants. For those of us who bust our butts to play our best, it’s an
important message: The idea isn’t to be different but to be true to oneself, and in so doing be different.
“I never have anybody to answer to,” he says. “So far, I’ve been very free to do just what I’ve wanted. That’s one
thing: I feel as if there’s been plenty of effort to make sure I have that creative flexibility. At some point I’d
even love to write for more instruments, and for different kinds of instruments. I have a pretty good idea of what I
want from people in the group context.”
Mike Stern’s career as a guitarist mirrors the quest that so many of us face as dedicated players. For many it’s a
quandary, given the options and the indefinable nature of the art. Here’s the guy who loved blues and rock so much
that he nearly played the life out of the stuff, but who ultimately found himself at a critical intersection. He didn’t
turn back or come to a screeching halt. He just kept going.
|
