Relentless Drive and Obsessive Discipline: Mike Stern’s Keys to Survival
The jazz-guitar virtuoso’s new record Echoes and Other Songs shines bright amidst some major—and challenging—turning points in his life.
It was around 8 p.m. and, after enduring a severely delayed flight from Europe, Mike Stern had finally arrived home to New York City. He was overseas for a run of marathon three-and-a-half-hour shows in Munich and Budapest, where he shared the stage with fellow guitar virtuoso Al Di Meola on the Mandoki Soulmates’ A Memory of Our Future album release concert.
Even though Stern had to leave the next day for a week-long stint at the Alternative Guitar Summit camp—where he would do clinics and perform alongside giants of the modern jazz world including John Scofield and Kurt Rosenwinkel—he invited me over that night to his Gramercy Park apartment to discuss his debut Mack Avenue Records release, Echoes and Other Songs.
As I set up my recording equipment, Stern was also busy setting up. He opened his Boss BCB-60 pedalboard case and connected his pedals to his well-worn Yamaha SPX90II, then routed the setup into a pair of Fender Twin Reverb reissues. “I just want to set my stuff up so I can practice later,” explains Stern. He was very generous with his time, and our interview concluded around midnight. As I headed out, Stern was just beginning his hours-long, late-night shedding session.
This relentless drive and obsessive discipline are the keys to Stern’s “chops of doom,” his nearly half-century reign as one of the world’s most celebrated jazz-fusion guitarists, and his remarkable road to recovery from a horrific accident that happened eight years ago.
Mike Stern - "Echoes"
In the Aftermath
In the summer of 2016, Stern tripped and fell over improperly stowed construction equipment while crossing the street, and broke his humeri (both of the arm bones that extend from the shoulder to the elbow). His right hand suffered permanent nerve damage, which caused it to become bent like a claw, making it so that he can no longer do some things like fingerpick and pinch harmonics. Stern’s legendary fluid picking style also became choppy, and he’s had to work extremely hard over the years to get it to flow smoothly again. “It’s still frustrating as hell,” admits Stern. “You didn’t have to think about the technique so much because you’ve been doing it for years, and then all of a sudden, now you have to spend energy and brain power on it. But it’s getting more natural as I keep doing it.”
“You didn’t have to think about the technique so much because you’ve been doing it for years, and then all of a sudden, you have to spend energy and brain power on it.”
Equally devastating is the mental toll from the accident, which Stern is still coping with. “I was really nervous to do the record at all. I was trying to give myself every excuse to get out of it. I thought, ‘Oh my hands are gonna cramp up because I’ll be nervous.’ My hands cramp up because of this injury,” says Stern. “It’s more in my mind. But that’s what I’m going through sometimes because of this. It’s really serious. I’m the only guitar player in the world that’s using glue—wig glue—to hold a pick. Everybody says they can’t hear the difference [in my playing] but I really feel it.”
Despite his initial, anxiety-driven apprehension, Echoes and Other Songs might be Stern’s best studio album yet. “I thought all the solos sucked and I’d have to go back and do everything again,” confesses Stern. “Then I listened back and, first of all, I can’t change it because it was all recorded live with the band, and then I said, ‘Thank God I don’t need to.’”Stern’s new record features a slate of impressive collaborators, who gathered to cut the album in New York City.
Hitting with the Heavyweights
As typical for a Mike Stern record, Echoes and Other Songs features a star-studded lineup of musicians. The luxury of recording with some of the world’s best musicians comes at a price. “The problem was getting those guys to rehearse because everyone’s so busy,” says Stern. “We got one rehearsal with Jim [Beard, producer], myself, Antonio [Sanchez, drummer], and Chris Potter [saxophonist]. No Christian McBride [bassist]—so we ran the tunes without bass,” says Stern. “We finally got Christian to do it the very night before. He had some time and drove all the way in [from New Jersey], and there was a ton of traffic because there was a baseball game or something, and he was late, but he still made it. We got together for like an hour-and-a-half that night and went over everything. He already had it together.”
The next day at BerkleeNYC’s Power Station Studios, they recorded straight through without listening back. It was mostly one to three takes of a tune—maybe four at most, if something was tricky. Stern explains, “We didn’t have that much time—we only had two days to do eight tunes! That’s kind of a lot, especially because it’s very live and we had never played together.”
“I’m the only guitar player in the world that’s using glue—wig glue—to hold a pick.”
Stern did two days with that rhythm section, and the second session had Beard, Richard Bona on bass and vocals, Dennis Chambers on drums, and Bob Franceschini on sax. This was also intended to be a two-day session, but they finished the three tunes in one day, and were wise enough to leave it alone. (Later overdubs included Mike’s wife, Leni, on ngoni, a West African stringed instrument, and Arto Tunçboyacıyan on percussion.)
Over the years, Stern had worked with all of the musicians on the album, with the exception of Sanchez, who entered the picture at Beard’s suggestion. He had just played a session with Sanchez, and Stern recalls, “Jim said, ‘Wow, that cat is playing his ass off.’ I was like, ‘No shit, of course.’ I’m aware of him but we never played. Beard said, ‘It would be a really good hookup because Antonio’s such a great jazz player; he really follows you.’ And he did exactly that, he really followed me, especially on the first tune ‘Connections.’ All of it. He was right there for all the soloists.”
Mike Stern's Gear
Improvising isn’t just for the fretboard: A 2016 accident permanently damaged Stern’s right hand, forcing him to relearn how to play the instrument—a process that’s still ongoing.
Photo by Sandrine Lee
Guitar
- Yamaha Pacifica 1511MS Mike Stern
Amp
- Fender ’65 Twin Reverb reissue
Effects
- Yamaha SPX90II
- Boss SD-1 (as boost with level all the way up, drive all the way off, and tone at 11:00)
- Boss SD-1W (as drive with level at 11:00, drive at 1:00, tone at 2:00, and mode switch set to C)
- Boss DD-3T
- Boss MO-2
- Boss TU-3
- Vemuram Jan Ray
- Truetone power supply with daisy chain cables
- Boss BCB-60 pedalboard
Strings and Picks
- D’Addario (.011–.013–.015–.026–.032–.038)
- D’Addario heavy picks
Beauty in Simplicity
Like most accomplished jazz musicians, Stern has spent countless hours shedding complex tunes. He’ll regularly practice John Coltrane’s “26-2” with Leni at home, and has recorded Coltrane’s challenging “Moment’s Notice” on several jazz-oriented CDs. But unless Stern is specifically recording an acoustic-jazz album like his 1992 release, Standards (and Other Songs), he generally prefers to keep it simple for his studio albums.
“I like to write so you don’t have to have a slide ruler to figure it out. That’s just my take,” says Stern. “I mean, some of the stuff that I hear that’s more complex, it’s gorgeous. I’m not taking that away. But when you have a limited amount of time for a band, you have to kind of keep it realistic. You have to make it kind of simple because most of the time they’re not going to have time to really learn some hard shit. I like to do that anyway because it’s more fun for me and for everybody else to play. It’s not so fun to show up and have to play ‘Giant Steps’ backwards and in three different keys.”
“I like to write so you don’t have to have a slide ruler to figure it out.”
You’ll often hear common forms like blues and minor blues disguised with the Stern touch on his albums. “Could Be,” the closing track on Echoes and Other Songs, is a quirky contrafact on the very familiar jazz standard “It Could Happen to You.”
“Connections,” another song in the collection, “has a blowing section that’s easy so people can take off on it,” says Stern. “It’s almost got a McCoy Tyner vibe; I always think of ‘Passion Dance’ in a way.” Since “Connections” didn’t require extraneous brain power to calculate unexpected chord changes or odd meters, the musicians were a lot freer and more relaxed, and the results are astounding. Stern says, “Man, Chris Potter, whew—he just tore it up on that track.”
Stern’s signature Yamaha electric has been his go-to for decades. Combined with a pair of Twin Reverbs, it takes him wherever he needs to go.
Photo by Chris Marroquin
“Gospel Song,” the second single from Echoes, is a ballad inspired by the down-to-earth music Stern heard growing up in Washington, D.C. “All you heard there was soul music, basically. It was so cool to live there and hear that music and it got me right away,” says Stern. “I used to listen to a lot of Motown and some church-y kind of stuff is in Motown or soul music.”
“Curtis,” which features Bona singing and Stern making an appearance on backing vocals, pays homage to a soul-music legend. “It’s got the vibe of a Curtis Mayfield tune in a kind of loose way. He’s one of my favorite composers,” says Stern. “You didn’t have to think too hard. It would just get into your heart.”
Fitting Farewell
Sadly, producer Jim Beard passed away in March 2024, several months before the album’s release. In addition to working with the likes of Steely Dan and Pat Metheny, among others, Beard had played an enormous role in Stern’s studio albums over the past several decades. “He played on ‘Chromazone,’” recalls Stern, referencing his most famous tune from the 1988 album Time in Place. Beard also produced numerous Stern albums, starting with 1991’s Odds or Evens. “He produced and mixed the stuff too, even though we had engineers. He’s amazing and had such an incredible ear. It was a shock to lose him,” says Stern.
Fittingly, “Crumbles,” Stern’s most adventurous studio track to date, features Beard, who adds a hauntingly introspective touch to the song’s mood. “The tune is a little quirky and has some humor in it. I like some of the things I was trying to do writing-wise and Christian really dug it. We were in the studio and we said, ‘Everybody’s been playing here and there but Jim hasn’t really gotten any features, so let’s just do that with him.’ He played this spacey thing and everybody just kind of played along, but we kind of knew we were going to go back in time and rock out in the end,” says Stern, who pulled out his synth-like Boss MO-2 for the guitar solo. “It just happened. I hadn’t used it for the whole record, so I said, ‘Let me use this with distortion.’”
Stern and his wife, musician Leni Stern, have always practiced as a duo at home, but they only started performing together recently. In this live shot, Leni presides in the background.
Photo by Chris Marroquin
The 55 Bar
Since roughly 1984, NYC’s 55 Bar was Stern’s home away from home. He had a weekly residency there for decades, playing every Monday and Wednesday when he was back in town. In stark contrast to a formal concert at a big-money venue, gigs at the 55 Bar—lovingly nicknamed “The Dump”—were casual, low-key situations. For guitar geeks, it was the best deal around, especially in the early days when the $12 cover charge also included two drinks and popcorn.
At his 55 Bar gigs, Stern would tweak new compositions and arrangements, and stretch out on jazz standards. It wouldn’t be uncommon at the 55 Bar to hear Stern burn for 20 minutes on a very uptempo blues, exploring esoteric ideas that you might not hear him do on a more listener-friendly studio album. Or, he could morph a jazz standard into an endlessly building, extended-outro vamp where he would play ear-twisting lines.
“Playing [at 55 Bar], sometimes I would come back that night and be inspired to try to write something.”
Musicians as diverse as Hiromi Uehara, Paul Shaffer, and the late Roy Hargrove would often randomly show up and sit in with Stern. Countless magic moments happened at the 55 Bar, very often sparking new ideas for Stern. “Playing there, sometimes I would come back that night and be inspired to try to write something,” says Stern, who made his first public appearance after the accident at 55 Bar on October 10, 2016, and used subsequent gigs there as a rehab of sorts as he began relearning the instrument.
At the club, Stern created a culture that defined a New York movement in jazz guitar, and gave players like Wayne Krantz and Adam Rogers, among others, an opportunity to showcase their abilities and develop their craft.
Sadly, however, in 2022, the 55 Bar closed, striking a devastating blow to the Big Apple’s creative community. “That place was one in a million,” says Stern.
“It’s a total drag,” he continues. “You have to look around and hustle gigs. It’s a challenge for younger players to find clubs to play and keep going. Even as discouraging as it is, I tell people, whatever you do, just try to find time to practice. Find a couple of hours every day. It’s a corny phrase but just ‘water the flowers.’ Otherwise, you got nothing.”
YouTube It
After decades of gigging separately, Mike Stern and his wife Leni Stern decided to start performing together. Leni’s ngoni playing can be heard on Echoes and Other Songs, and in this clip, the duo jam at home on one of Leni’s West African-inspired songs.
While this forgotten, oddball instrument was designed with multidextrous guitarists in mind, it never quite took off—making it a rare, vintage treasure.
At Fanny’s House of Music, you never know what strange or fascinating relics you might find. Guitorgan? Been there, sold that. A Hawaiian tremoloa fretless zither? We’ve had two.
Recently, the oddest of odd ducks strolled through Fanny’s front door. It looks like a Harmony Wedge lap steel that was thrown in the dryer to shrink a little bit. It has two flatwound bass strings, in reverse order from where you’d expect—the higher string is on the left side if you’re looking at the instrument’s face. Each string has its own fretting surface, bent at a 135-degree angle away from each other, and the frets are labeled with note names. A raised, thin strip of wood separates the strings from each other on the fretboard.
Oh, wait a moment. Did we say “fretboard?” We should have said “footboard.” Allow us to introduce you to the 1970s Mike Miller Foot Bass. That’s right—you play this adorable critter with your feet. The strings are tuned a fifth apart from each other. By setting the instrument on the ground and rocking your foot back and forth over the neck, you get a standard country root-fifth bass line—completely hands-free. Are you a guitar player? All you need is one of these puppies and a drum machine and, poof! You’re a whole band!
Along the “footboard” are markers for note names.
Thank goodness for the internet, which gave me access to the original promotional materials for the Foot Bass. Emblazoned with the all-caps header, “BE YOUR OWN BASS MAN,” its pamphlet extols the virtues of the Foot Bass. Describing it as “practically maintenance free,” it guarantees you’ll “amaze friends and audiences,” and “make extra MONEY.”
A brief meander through the United States Patent and Trademark website revealed the patent, whose filer was equally concerned with finances. “A currently popular form of entertainment is provided by an artist who both sings and accompanies himself on a guitar,” it reads, as if this hasn’t been a popular form of entertainment for a very long time. “The performance of such an artist may be enhanced by adding a bass accompaniment.... However, such an additional bass accompaniment ordinarily requires an extra artist for playing the bass and therefore represents an additional expense.” Sorry, bass players. Clearly, you all do nothing but cost us guitar players money.
“That’s right—you play this adorable critter with your feet.”
Be prepared to dig through your closet when you embark on your Foot Bass journey. If you start with your trusty Doc Martens, you’re in for a disappointing experience. Deep treads make for messy notes and poor contact with the strings. And while barefoot playing allows for more nimble, adventurous basslines, the lack of a rigid surface prevents the “simple and convenient” operation promised by the patent. What you need, as one Fanny’s employee described, are “church shoes”—something with a low profile and a flat sole.
This Mike Miller Foot Bass is from the 1970s, and has a patent for its design.
Even with the right footwear, playing the Foot Bass takes some getting used to. There’s a bit of foam under the pickup cover that mutes the strings when you’re not playing them, but you can still make a remarkable amount of clatter with this thing. It’s a subtle motion that works best, and it certainly takes practice to master it. Add in multiple chords or—be still, my heart—walking up from one chord to the next? Give yourself a couple weeks in the woodshed before you schedule your next show.
If you’re looking for something to watch tonight, there’s a documentary you can find on YouTube called Let Me Be Your Band. It covers the history of one-person bands, starting with blues pioneer Jesse “Lone Cat” Fuller and continuing up to the early 2000s with the careers of Hasil Adkins and Bob Log III, among others. It’s a touching portrayal of ingenuity and spunk, and an ode to owning your weirdness. Not a single person in Let Me Be Your Band had a Foot Bass, though. It’s high time the Foot Bass was celebrated for its cleverness and played by an enterprising solo act. It’s a bit like Cinderella’s glass slipper here at Fanny’s. We can’t wait to see who tries it on for a perfect fit.
The incendiary giant of psychedelic guitar concludes his 21-date world tour this weekend in New York City. In this photo essay, PG’s editorial director reports on the opening date of the sonic architect of Pink Floyd’s historic five-concert run at MSG.
NEW YORK CITY–There’s a low, sustained tone that David Gilmour extracts from his Stratocaster at the beginning of Pink Floyd’s “Sorrow.” It’s the intimidating growl of a robotic tiger–or, more realistically, a blend of low-string sustain, snarling overdrive from a Big Muff, and delay that saturates the air and seems to expand into every bit of open space. It’s almost overpowering in its intensity, but it is also deeply beautiful.
That tone, and so many of the other sounds that Gilmour has conjured in his 46 years of recording with Pink Floyd and as a solo artist, inspired me to leave Nashville to attend the first concert of Gilmour’s five-night stand at Madison Square Garden, on November 4. I’d been lucky enough to catch Gilmour’s tour supporting 1984’s About Face and two later Pink Floyd concerts, but the guitarist is 78 this year, so I felt that the 21 dates he’s playing in a mere four cities might be my last chance to be in the same room with all of his extraordinary tones. Plus, Pink Floyd, and especially Gilmour’s solo recordings and his brilliant Live at Pompeii concert film, was my wife, Laurie’s, and my refuge during the Covid lockdown. This was our opportunity to experience the sorcerer at work in one of his temples, where he and Pink Floyd first played in 1977.
Gilmour wields his Black Cat Strat, which he also played on Luck and Strange’s opener, “Black Cat,” in the studio.
Photo by Emma Wannie/MSGE
Was it worth the price of two concert tickets, flights, two nights in a Midtown hotel, and a subway ride? If you need to ask, it’s likely you’re not as familiar with Gilmour’s playing as I suggest that you should be. For guitarists, outside-the-box musical thinkers, and lovers of exceptional songwriting–and even concert lighting effects and live sound–this show was a perfect 10. Gilmour and his ensemble, including his daughter Romany, performed a well-chosen set of tunes by Pink Floyd and from Gilmour’s solo work, including his recent album Luck and Strange, which is more about composition than guitar exposition. Live, this was not the case. “Luck and Strange,” “A Single Spark,” and others from the album were expanded to include 6-string excursions that–in his signature style–took the lyrics as their inspiration and expanded their emotional architecture.
A close-up of Gilmour’s famed Workmate guitar, a 1955 Fender Esquire that once belonged to Seymour Duncan.
Photo by Emma Wannie/MSGE
Repeatedly, Gilmour displayed his ability to play the perfect parts, and especially solos, for each song. Some, of course, like “Time,” require sticking to text, but his expansions of “Breathe” and other numbers incorporated subtle improvisations dappled by pitch-changing, his emotive string bending, and numerous shifts in tone and phrasing that nonetheless always respected his unmistakable core sound. In Nashville, a frequent compliment is that a musician “always plays the perfect part.” For me, that’s a warning that I’m probably going to hear very professional and predictable playing all night long, and that’s usually boring. But Gilmour’s ear-opening sounds and phrases are constantly peppered with surprises–a hallmark of his characterful virtuosity. In the first of his Garden shows, he stepped outside the box while always respecting its contents, and it was a pleasure to hear him repeatedly practice that high art.
Guy Pratt remarked, while speaking to the audience before the show, that his first gig at MSG with Gilmour had been 37 years and one day earlier. Live, it was clear that Pratt is Gilmour’s right-hand man, as he set up cues for the other players.
Photo by Emma Wannie/MSGE
A pre-tour rumor was that Gilmour would not be playing any Pink Floyd numbers. That seemed unlikely, given his role as the composer and vocalist of so many of the band’s showcase songs. And, indeed, “Speak to Me,” “Breathe,” “Time,” “Marooned” (with its pitch-defying solo), “Wish You Were Here,” “High Hopes,” “Sorrow,” “A Great Day for Freedom,” “The Great Gig in the Sky,” “Coming Back to Life,” and “Comfortably Numb” were all present during the roughly two-and-a-half hours of music. What seemed remarkable throughout was not only the perfection of Gilmour’s playing but his ability to still hit every vocal high note with the same energy and accuracy of the original recordings, including his superb recreation of the scatting in “Wish You Were Here.”
Gilmour’s acoustic guitar, especially on “Wish You Were Here,” sparkled with clarity and articulation, and his scatting on that song proved that at 78 he can still summon the power and precision to hit the high vocal notes.
Photo by Emma Wannie/MSGE
“Wish You Were Here” was his first acoustic guitar excursion of the concert, and he and supporting guitarist Ben Worsley made the song a trip in the Wayback Machine, effortlessly conjuring the introduction’s vibrant appeal and deep emotionalism. Their acoustic instruments sounded crisp and resonant through the arena-sized PA, which should not have been surprising given Gilmour and Pink Floyd’s high standards for live sound. And all night, Gilmour’s vocals enjoyed the same clarity, making every lyric understandable, which is quite a feat for any large-hall show. The only quibble is that the drums echoed off the Garden’s back wall, which, given its 19,500 capacity, was on par.
Guy Pratt, David Gilmour, and Ben Worsley keeping the rock in arena rock. In addition to his Fender Jazz Bass, Pratt also played an Ernie Ball Music Man Stingray, and an upright. For electric guitar, Worsley slung a PRS S2 SSH.
Photo by Emma Wannie/MSGE
Romany Gilmour played a vital role in the show, with her voice navigating the Celtic-influenced melody of “Between Two Points,” from Luck and Strange, before joining the already formidable voices of Louise Marshall, and Charlie and Hattie Webb, in the band’s chorus. All four took turns singing lead on Dark Side of the Moon’s wordless masterpiece “The Great Gig in the Sky,” as Marshall played piano and Gilmour took one of his turns on the table-steel guitar.
A crowd’s-eye view, with lighting-enhanced stage fog. At right, just out of frame, is famed keyboardist Greg Phillinganes, who first joined Gilmour’s ensemble as part of the Rattle That Lock tour of Europe and appears in the Live in Pompeii concert film.
Photo by Emma Wannie/MSGE
“In Any Tongue,” from Gilmour’s 2014 album Rattle That Lock, was, of course, a musical highlight, ignited by that grizzly tone, but furthered by expressive, powerhouse solos from both Gilmour and Worsley. The song’s anti-war theme was enhanced by the same back-projected, heart-breaking video shown in 2016’s Live in Pompeii film, which conveys the idea that military violence spares neither the often-reluctant invaders nor the invaded. And last, of course, came “Comfortably Numb,” with Gilmour’s holy grail guitar solos, perfectly executed as he and the band played from behind an allusive wall of light. With their deep, idiosyncratic bends, rich, howling midrange, and his perfect, vibrato-laden bends, squealing harmonics, touch, and phrasing, these solos were the ultimate 6-string microphone drop.
Gilmour and his Black Cat Strat–partners for the concert’s closing number, “Comfortably Numb,” from Pink Floyd’s The Wall.
Photo by Emma Wannie/MSGE
If that was my last opportunity to hear Gilmour live, it’s understandable. He’s a legend who has earned his status through nearly a half-century of remarkable playing and composing. He has no need to create or perform on any terms beyond his own. I’m simply happy to have been able to bear witness, and to share the experience with you.
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On this episode of the 100 Guitarists podcast, we’re talking about our favorite Lukather tracks, from his best rhythm parts to his most rippin’ solos. And even though he spends most of his playing time with the biggest names, we’ve managed to call up a few deep cuts.
Steve Lukather is one of the most documented guitarists in the hit-making biz. He grew up as an L.A. teen with a crew of fellow musicians who would go on to make their livings at the top of the session scene. By the time Lukather and his pals formed Toto, they were already experienced chart-toppers. The band went on to success with hits including the rockin’ “Hold the Line,” breezy, bouncing “Rosanna,” and the timeless “Africa.”
As a session player, Lukather’s reign in the ’70s and ‘80s extended from Olivia Newton-John to Herbie Hancock to Michael Jackson. And alongside Michael McDonald—whose “I Keep Forgettin’ (Every Time You’re Near)” included Lukather’s distinctive rhythm riffage—Daryl Hall and John Oates, Kenny Loggins, Peter Cetera, and Christopher Cross (among many others) he may have earned the title of yacht rock’s number one guitar player.
On this episode of the 100 Guitarists podcast, we’re talking about our favorite Lukather tracks, from his best rhythm parts to his most rippin’ solos. And even though he spends most of his playing time with the biggest names, we’ve managed to call up a few deep cuts.