Guitarist Leni Stern mixes jazz with folk and the Beatles during a Berklee clinic.

By Rob Hochschild
Berklee.edu Editor
(July 26, 2001)

	Leni Stern
	Photo by Kim Grant

Stern strolled onto stage carrying a yellow Fender Stratocaster and wearing a white tank top and blue jeans with a thick ring of rattling shells around her ankle. But beyond any conclusions you might draw from her appearance, it was Stern's songs that gave her away as a folk musician with who just happens to have serious jazz chops.

A frequent visitor to her alma mater in recent years, Stern capped a week-long residency with a two-hour session for students, staff, and faculty. Bassist Paul Socolow and drummer Kenny Wollesen accompanied Stern as she performed seven songs, most of which she wrote for her most recent release "Kindness of Strangers."

While betraying occasional influences from Pat Metheny, Joni Mitchell, Rickie Lee Jones, and at one point, the late 1960s San Francisco rock sound, Stern's music conjurs up images of a New York loft, where anything goes and free-form poets and improvising musicians exchange ideas in some all-night-long conversation.

The first question asked of Stern prompted her to reflect on the importance of developing a unique voice.

"I went to a Miles [Davis] Marathon in New York," Stern said. "The trumpeters sounded really sad. They were all trying to sound like someone else. Have your own voice, but don't lock yourself up in a closet. Play the way you want to play. There's never going to be another Miles. There's never going to be another you."

The guitarist not only uses a wide variety of sounds and techniques, she fleshes out her compositions with arrangements that go far beyond what you hear in the typical pop song. Some of the songs from "Kindness of Strangers," when performed live, take the shape of small pop symphonies, with a series of instrumental movements between sung verses and choruses.

"Sandbox" began with an extended improvisation before the band slipped temporarily into a swing feel. The feel changed again while Stern sang a few verses, followed by solos from each member of the trio, and then an improvised coda that brought the tune to an end. That song, and the others she performed at Berklee, demonstrated that Stern has developed her own sound without relying on formula.

	Leni Stern
	Photo by Kim Grant

After performing a standard made famous by Billie Holliday, "I'll Be Seeing You," Stern explained how she began making the transition from straight-ahead jazz guitarist to the more eclectic approach of her latest work.

"Some songwriters wanted me to write tunes for them," she said. "They wanted to play more than open position [chords on guitar] and they wanted to do songs with my harmonies. I started doing that, and then I started writing my own songs."

Initially the guitarist was shy about adding vocals to her set, but became more comfortable after applying the same work ethic to her singing that she used when studying guitar. "It's just another set of chops," she said.

Now Stern sees herself following in the tradition of musicians like Louis Armstrong and Chet Baker, great instrumentalists who were also known for transcendent vocal performances.

"They would sing a song and then kill you with a solo," Stern said. "When I listen to them, I'm inspired to write every day."

Describing her composing studio as a "big mess," Stern said she typically works on about five songs at once. "I am surrounded by music and tapes and minidiscs and all my music stuff. When I'm done, I step out and the mess is there when I step back in the next day."

Stern (right) talks to a student after her clinic.
Photo by Kim Grant

Stern apparently possesses an interest in books that is as eclectic as her interest in music. Near the end of her session, the guitarist recommended that everyone in attendance read a book on creative writing, "Bird by Bird," by Anne Lamott. "A lot of things apply to music," she said.

For the final song of the afternoon, Stern chose a Beatles song, "Things We Said Today." Unlike the conventional rock sound of the two-minute original, Stern's stretched-out version propelled itself forward on a slithery funk groove before the musicians arrived at a final vamp, which they slowly faded to silence.

It was a surprising end to a session from an ever-changing artist who just can't help but to surprise at every turn.