Mike Stern Band, Tokyo Blue Note
Monday, June 8, 2015
First Session
Set List
Out of the Blue
Avenue B
Wishing Well
What Might Have Been
Bass Solo by Victor
Tipatinas
Red House (encore)
Out of the Blue
Avenue B
Wishing Well
What Might Have Been
Bass Solo by Victor
Tipatinas
Red House (encore)
Report by Martin Connolly
There he was, just feet away. Mike Stern. The rocky-jazzy guitarist par excellence. He created the Mike Stern
sound and he got the world's attention because he'd gotten Miles' attention. 1981.
We Want Miles. The dynamic double
live album, with, yes, the sweet ‘Jean Pierre’, which Mike made his mellifluous
own. And now there he was, about two meters away, hair just as long and
conspicuous, if now a little silverish. Large framed, black-T-shirted
jeans-wearing Mike Stern. Playing that wonderful companion of his, the Yamaha
Pacifica Telecaster. I was so close I could see the grain on the body of the Tele and the
patina of decades’ play on the fretboard. (Actually, people sitting at the back could probably make that out, too.)
The opening song, ‘Out of the Blue’ (which comes from his 2012 album All Over the Place), lasted about 13 minutes. It’s a very rock-inflected riff, with an almost rhumba-style drum-and-bass-heavy beat, a very cool opening vehicle for the fireworks that were to follow. Mike began his solo early on. He opened with beautifully picked individual notes capturing and developing the melody of the tune, delivered via his signature chorus sound. Behind him sat the two Fender ’65 Twin Reverb amps largely responsible for that sound. Below, unseen, was his array of Boss pedals, which must include some kind of (super?) chorus pedal –it could be Boss, or even Digitech, so I’ve heard. Unfortunately there is no dedicated gear info on Mike’s official site. Anyway, back to the music… Mike’s chorus sound is the perfect environment for his deft, lyrical playing, which has in no way diminished over the years. It was a treat to witness his fine finger-skills up close. Mike’s eyes were closed, as he channelled greater and greater energies into his task. He was carving out this architecture in sound that was at first engaging and which then became enthralling. Mike is usually referred to, of course, as a jazz guitarist, but with a difference: the rough T-shirt and jeans and the Tele have 'Rock Musician' written all over them.
Soon it was time to switch to a vamping, chordal approach, as a complement and contrast to the narrative of the notes. Mike’s chordal playing always summons a kind of expansive romantic feeling. He fashions a soundscape which is at once dreamy and also a beautiful enhancement of the song’s narrative, a deepening dimension. After a return to the intricacy of the finely-picked notes, in which he seeks to re-state the melody, Mike then presses a pedal down below (might that be a Boss DS-1 Distortion?) and kicks into the distinctly rocky section of his on-going solo. The clock reads four minutes. For the next three minutes, near enough, Mike really gets into his stuff. Up until now we’ve had ‘beautiful’, we’ve had ‘lyrical’ and we’ve had restrained, now we get ‘unleashed’. It’s not so much re-stating the melody with added bite, rather it’s just ‘kick-ass’ guitaring. Didn’t Miles tell him to go for the rock more than the jazz all those years ago? Perhaps he could see that Mike’s soul was a little rockier than most practitioners of the fine art of jazz guitar… From the beginning, Mike was always a strong and outstanding player, and for decades now has been acclaimed as a true guitar hero: he is so because he takes his instrument and he plays it for all its worth. He wrings it dry. What do we associate with the guitar in modern popular music? Rock ‘n Roll? Rock? Blues? Well, Mike makes numerous ‘references’ to some of the rockiest music in the textbook. He hits all the right buttons, so to speak, and thereby lifts the song from being just greatly enjoyable music to being this experience which makes you actually want to get up out of your seat and dance, or shout (or twist and shout...). That’s why Mike Stern is one of the very greatest of guitar greats. His solo guitar-playing here had lasted nearly seven minutes. He had taken us all on a journey, and an adventure. What a performer!
The opening song, ‘Out of the Blue’ (which comes from his 2012 album All Over the Place), lasted about 13 minutes. It’s a very rock-inflected riff, with an almost rhumba-style drum-and-bass-heavy beat, a very cool opening vehicle for the fireworks that were to follow. Mike began his solo early on. He opened with beautifully picked individual notes capturing and developing the melody of the tune, delivered via his signature chorus sound. Behind him sat the two Fender ’65 Twin Reverb amps largely responsible for that sound. Below, unseen, was his array of Boss pedals, which must include some kind of (super?) chorus pedal –it could be Boss, or even Digitech, so I’ve heard. Unfortunately there is no dedicated gear info on Mike’s official site. Anyway, back to the music… Mike’s chorus sound is the perfect environment for his deft, lyrical playing, which has in no way diminished over the years. It was a treat to witness his fine finger-skills up close. Mike’s eyes were closed, as he channelled greater and greater energies into his task. He was carving out this architecture in sound that was at first engaging and which then became enthralling. Mike is usually referred to, of course, as a jazz guitarist, but with a difference: the rough T-shirt and jeans and the Tele have 'Rock Musician' written all over them.
Soon it was time to switch to a vamping, chordal approach, as a complement and contrast to the narrative of the notes. Mike’s chordal playing always summons a kind of expansive romantic feeling. He fashions a soundscape which is at once dreamy and also a beautiful enhancement of the song’s narrative, a deepening dimension. After a return to the intricacy of the finely-picked notes, in which he seeks to re-state the melody, Mike then presses a pedal down below (might that be a Boss DS-1 Distortion?) and kicks into the distinctly rocky section of his on-going solo. The clock reads four minutes. For the next three minutes, near enough, Mike really gets into his stuff. Up until now we’ve had ‘beautiful’, we’ve had ‘lyrical’ and we’ve had restrained, now we get ‘unleashed’. It’s not so much re-stating the melody with added bite, rather it’s just ‘kick-ass’ guitaring. Didn’t Miles tell him to go for the rock more than the jazz all those years ago? Perhaps he could see that Mike’s soul was a little rockier than most practitioners of the fine art of jazz guitar… From the beginning, Mike was always a strong and outstanding player, and for decades now has been acclaimed as a true guitar hero: he is so because he takes his instrument and he plays it for all its worth. He wrings it dry. What do we associate with the guitar in modern popular music? Rock ‘n Roll? Rock? Blues? Well, Mike makes numerous ‘references’ to some of the rockiest music in the textbook. He hits all the right buttons, so to speak, and thereby lifts the song from being just greatly enjoyable music to being this experience which makes you actually want to get up out of your seat and dance, or shout (or twist and shout...). That’s why Mike Stern is one of the very greatest of guitar greats. His solo guitar-playing here had lasted nearly seven minutes. He had taken us all on a journey, and an adventure. What a performer!
Now it was the turn of the other members of the band.
The saxman, Bob Franceschini, came in, with a beautifully restrained, and
because it was restrained and minimal, a very cool counterpoint, to what we had
just witnessed. For me, the sax recalls the music of
the 1990 Upside Downside, a music which
is nothing if not majestic, dramatic, exciting and on a large scale. But Mike
has always played with a sax-player by his side. Bob Berg, for example, or Michael Brecker, who was his partner for many years. In fact, I had seen them play back
in the middle-eighties at the North Sea Jazz Festival in Holland. That had been
music on an epic scale, full of drama and excitement. The sax here also created
a dramatic dimension, and added more than a dose of late-night romanticism to
the mix. Bob’s input also made the ensemble sound, to me, like the very
powerful and cool Average White Band (especially in the penultimate piece ‘Tipatinas’). If it was
also a case of timing and knowing when to blow and when not to, Bob
Franceschini had the handle on things.
And the drummer, Will Calhoun, with his dreads, was tremendous. He had true intensity, and a power and attack which, at times, summoned Billy Cobham's drumming from the first Mahavishnu album. I am sure that in one section he played a reiteration of the drumming on ‘Vital Transformation’. I don't know how the drumsticks didn't break. And apologies, Will, I tend to gauge drummers in reference to Billy C, as I rank him the greatest. In the first tune, we had Mike perform a very extended solo. Then it was the turn of Bob on sax, then, the inimitable Victor Wooten on bass, more about him later on… Then Will. I distinctly remember watching as he then took his turn to strut his stuff. Up until this point, he had been providing a fabulous back beat, but one that didn’t seem to have broken a sweat on his brow. He and Mike had been exchanging smiles throughout the proceedings and I wondered what Will would do to imprint himself onto the audience’s attentions. What he did was to get real fast and furious, and suddenly the ole smile was replaced with something a little more like a grimace –but of determination!- which spoke eloquently of his commitment to the sticks and the taut skins before him. Man, he really rocked the drum-set. It was clear once he’d finished that he was a drummer of particular verve and passion. Only once he’d established that did the smile return to his lips and the band could dive into the coda of the song, now having established the credentials off all onstage.
OK, so what about Victor Wooten? Victor played great backing throughout, of course- he is only one of the most notable and talked-about bass-players on the planet. But one time, at a later point, he took the lead for an extended solo, part of which was in cahoots with the drummer. It was certainly percussive, and chunky, the percussion work by the drummer was put on a loop, leaving a nice backing for Victor. As one of the premier electric bassists on the planet, he was eager to get into his stuff. The funny thing about Victor is that he comes across as so casual, and unflappable. His basswork during songs is always carried out with a naturalness and a fluidity that radiates total mastery. He doesn't break a sweat, and yet each piece was complex and he would throw things in which imprinted himself onto each song. He uses a waa-waa pedal at times, something I have never seen from a bassist: it prompted Mike to call out: ‘KonnichiWaWa!’ (a pun on the Japanese for ‘Hello’). He slurs notes on occasion, in rapid throwaway gestures. He slaps. He thumps. He cries out when he feels his fingering was one micro-millimetre off –it isn’t, but it adds to the drama, and the spectacle of what he’s doing. In the solo, however, it was more a case of kicking ass. In combination with, and in complement to, the percussion loop, Victor launched into an all-out attack on the instrument he'd been apparently so casually engaged with all evening. The song was like a chordal progression, somehow somewhat flamenco-sounding, with a beautiful, haunting melodic catch-line. It built and built in intensity, and yet all the time it also exuded a humour and wit that was Victor. And it didn't stop. The solo kept on, and the audience were reacting with whoops and hollers. And, just at the moment of highest intensity, he did something I've never seen before. He abruptly held the bass forward, as far as the strap would go, and, in a moment of wonder, flung it 360 degrees around his neck, caught it and continued playing his by now manic and ecstatic popping bass solo madness. (Quite possibly he actually swung his whole body round at the same time as swinging the bass, but in the opposite direction…? It was so fast and furious I wasn’t entirely sure what the hell happened actually.) This got everyone's attention. And yet it didn't stop there either. In Victor Wooten, we have a bass player who is also a showman, a musician who lives in live music, lives on stage and knows that this is where music really happens. I don't think I'll ever forget that solo spot, which lasted, get this, about nine minutes.... Amazing. (But what the hell was it called?)
And the drummer, Will Calhoun, with his dreads, was tremendous. He had true intensity, and a power and attack which, at times, summoned Billy Cobham's drumming from the first Mahavishnu album. I am sure that in one section he played a reiteration of the drumming on ‘Vital Transformation’. I don't know how the drumsticks didn't break. And apologies, Will, I tend to gauge drummers in reference to Billy C, as I rank him the greatest. In the first tune, we had Mike perform a very extended solo. Then it was the turn of Bob on sax, then, the inimitable Victor Wooten on bass, more about him later on… Then Will. I distinctly remember watching as he then took his turn to strut his stuff. Up until this point, he had been providing a fabulous back beat, but one that didn’t seem to have broken a sweat on his brow. He and Mike had been exchanging smiles throughout the proceedings and I wondered what Will would do to imprint himself onto the audience’s attentions. What he did was to get real fast and furious, and suddenly the ole smile was replaced with something a little more like a grimace –but of determination!- which spoke eloquently of his commitment to the sticks and the taut skins before him. Man, he really rocked the drum-set. It was clear once he’d finished that he was a drummer of particular verve and passion. Only once he’d established that did the smile return to his lips and the band could dive into the coda of the song, now having established the credentials off all onstage.
OK, so what about Victor Wooten? Victor played great backing throughout, of course- he is only one of the most notable and talked-about bass-players on the planet. But one time, at a later point, he took the lead for an extended solo, part of which was in cahoots with the drummer. It was certainly percussive, and chunky, the percussion work by the drummer was put on a loop, leaving a nice backing for Victor. As one of the premier electric bassists on the planet, he was eager to get into his stuff. The funny thing about Victor is that he comes across as so casual, and unflappable. His basswork during songs is always carried out with a naturalness and a fluidity that radiates total mastery. He doesn't break a sweat, and yet each piece was complex and he would throw things in which imprinted himself onto each song. He uses a waa-waa pedal at times, something I have never seen from a bassist: it prompted Mike to call out: ‘KonnichiWaWa!’ (a pun on the Japanese for ‘Hello’). He slurs notes on occasion, in rapid throwaway gestures. He slaps. He thumps. He cries out when he feels his fingering was one micro-millimetre off –it isn’t, but it adds to the drama, and the spectacle of what he’s doing. In the solo, however, it was more a case of kicking ass. In combination with, and in complement to, the percussion loop, Victor launched into an all-out attack on the instrument he'd been apparently so casually engaged with all evening. The song was like a chordal progression, somehow somewhat flamenco-sounding, with a beautiful, haunting melodic catch-line. It built and built in intensity, and yet all the time it also exuded a humour and wit that was Victor. And it didn't stop. The solo kept on, and the audience were reacting with whoops and hollers. And, just at the moment of highest intensity, he did something I've never seen before. He abruptly held the bass forward, as far as the strap would go, and, in a moment of wonder, flung it 360 degrees around his neck, caught it and continued playing his by now manic and ecstatic popping bass solo madness. (Quite possibly he actually swung his whole body round at the same time as swinging the bass, but in the opposite direction…? It was so fast and furious I wasn’t entirely sure what the hell happened actually.) This got everyone's attention. And yet it didn't stop there either. In Victor Wooten, we have a bass player who is also a showman, a musician who lives in live music, lives on stage and knows that this is where music really happens. I don't think I'll ever forget that solo spot, which lasted, get this, about nine minutes.... Amazing. (But what the hell was it called?)
What else can I write about this incredible cast of musicians? It was clear from the beginning that this
would be a party. Mike’s expansive smile and immediate establishment of a rapport
with the audience set the tone for the evening. In fact, when Mike took the
stage, what he did was to very briefly begin to play the opening bars of some
kind of incredibly old camp-fire song, as a joke. It was quite hilarious. He
exuded good times and fun and embraced the audience with the affectionate words
he used. It was fantastic to experience his playing so up close and personal (I was unaccompanied and the staff had
fortuitously led me to the one remaining seat of the very best-positioned
table). Half the time it almost felt like he was playing for
our table. The opening of ‘What Might Have Been’ (from the 2001 Voices) was
intro’d by a bluesy solo piece, just Mike cutting it with his super-chorus
lyricism, and yet, from the start inviting accompaniment from the audience, who
clapped a rhythm out –it was his ‘Wishing Well’ (from the same album). Mike
here showed his ability to kick out a tune by himself, but with a little help
from his friends/fans. I didn't know he did scat vocalizing when playing, so
that was a first. He opened up a song or two in this way, intro-ing the piece
by himself. One time was bluesy and, being the humourous bloke that he is, when
the guitar licks got real bluesy and down and dirty, Mike’s scat-singing did
too, with him almost licking the microphone, again, to hilarious effect.
There’s a pun for ye.
If I was surprised by Mike's scat-singing, I was even more surprised by the fact that he sang full-on for the encore. And... by the choice of song. 'We also do Jimi Hendrix', he said, momentarily giving us the riff from 'Foxy Lady'. Then, perhaps because that's the one everyone learns and plays in the guitar shop, he said: 'No, no, not that one!' and launched into a blistering version of ‘Red House’. I was well pleased with this, as it was just straight ahead all-out Blues. The preceding song, Tipatinas’, from the 1999 album Play, had already raised the stakes on stage electricity, yet there is always something so satisfying about full-on straight blues played on electric guitar. And this was Hendrix Blues! Mike played it with rip-roaring precision and singing that brought the house down. The crowd loved it.
When the four members took their bows at the end, after an hour and a half of kick-ass vibes, the audience appropriately feted them with ecstatic applause. It was not simply that the music had won them over, it was Mike Stern’s expansive and friendly personality that had also won people over. Here was a bloke who, mid-solo, or in the midst of one of the band’s musical crescendos, audibly whooped and hollered out, communicating his passion and love for this music to the guests below. Here was a person who communicated the joy of music, and the audience loved him all the more for his infectious enthusiasm.
If I was surprised by Mike's scat-singing, I was even more surprised by the fact that he sang full-on for the encore. And... by the choice of song. 'We also do Jimi Hendrix', he said, momentarily giving us the riff from 'Foxy Lady'. Then, perhaps because that's the one everyone learns and plays in the guitar shop, he said: 'No, no, not that one!' and launched into a blistering version of ‘Red House’. I was well pleased with this, as it was just straight ahead all-out Blues. The preceding song, Tipatinas’, from the 1999 album Play, had already raised the stakes on stage electricity, yet there is always something so satisfying about full-on straight blues played on electric guitar. And this was Hendrix Blues! Mike played it with rip-roaring precision and singing that brought the house down. The crowd loved it.
When the four members took their bows at the end, after an hour and a half of kick-ass vibes, the audience appropriately feted them with ecstatic applause. It was not simply that the music had won them over, it was Mike Stern’s expansive and friendly personality that had also won people over. Here was a bloke who, mid-solo, or in the midst of one of the band’s musical crescendos, audibly whooped and hollered out, communicating his passion and love for this music to the guests below. Here was a person who communicated the joy of music, and the audience loved him all the more for his infectious enthusiasm.
Immediately after the gig finished, Mike, and Will, Tom and Victor, were on hand to shake hands and sign CDs, which had been arranged and made available for sale. I had brought the cover of Upside Downside, and Mike signed it, thanking me for coming, as I thanked him for all the great music down the years. Indeed, the band ended up all signing the flyer for the evening. Mike addressed me as ‘Bro’.
I’ll be hearing the music of that evening for years to come, and cherishing the experience of being played to by some of the best musicians on the planet, and by one the greatest guitarists ever.
And to be called ‘Bro’ by Mike Stern!
I’ll be hearing the music of that evening for years to come, and cherishing the experience of being played to by some of the best musicians on the planet, and by one the greatest guitarists ever.
And to be called ‘Bro’ by Mike Stern!