HONING THE CRAFT

He's been insulted by a South African jazz songstress who, visiting Bloomington for a brief tour, was shocked he didn't know the tune of Hoagy Carmichael's 1937 classic, "Stardust." He's been booted out of provincial German streets, where he played original and world music on a well-traversed corner. Cranky pastry chefs convinced construction men working nearby to take to their jackhammers to drown him out, so Steve Sobiech relocated, setting up shop on a neighboring thoroughfare. \nThe Bedford native, described by friends as a "master instrumentalist," seems to perpetually shun taking the conventional road when it comes to his craft. He's undaunted by those who don't appreciate his painstaking dedication to acoustic, classical and jazz guitar, as well as to the decidedly unconventional Chapman Stick®, a 12-stringed instrument that is tapped, not plucked. \nHe's a regular fixture at Bloomington's Encore Café, and started his local gigs at the East Side Border's bookshop. Last year, he headlined a concert at the John Waldron Arts Center, one of his most prominent Bloomington performances yet. But Sobiech, who began playing solo after several attempts to play in rock bands and collectives, isn't after the limelight. His 11-month-old daughter, Helen, has been known to finger his Chapman strings when he logs practice time at home, and he's an avid student of world music, taking lessons from Brazilian masters locally and squeezing in lessons with IU alums. \n"I've got enough credits to major in music, but I don't have an official degree," Sobiech, speaking in a telephone interview from his Bloomington home, says. His baby daughter babbles in the background. "I didn't want one, and I didn't need one. I wanted to play."\nBrian Winterman, a friend of Sobiech's who plays in his own band, Brian Winterman and the Delusion Train, says Sobiech continually aspires to grow as a musician, which "doesn't always mean expanding your fanbase or selling more CDs."\n"I'm positive that Steve always strives to become a better player, and because he is dedicated, he does," Winterman, whose latest project will debut in mid-July, says. "Therein lies the reward."\nCertainly, Sobiech is a pioneer on his instrument of choice, the Chapman Stick®. It's an eight-, 10- or 12-stringed instrument that very much resembles an elongated guitar neck, only without the curved body of the instrument. The Stick doesn't resonate like a typical guitar would. \n"You can do anything you want with it," Sobiech, who had envisioned inventing an instrument of this kind while living in Texas before learning one actually existed, says. "Generally, it's about tapping strings. They're low tension and allow fast action … I've heard people describe them as having the sound of a bass and one or two guitars playing at the same time."\nCreated by guitarist Emmett Chapman, who says he invented the technique before conceptualizing the instrument itself, the Chapman Stick® blends the style and sound of guitar, piano, bass and drums, according to Chapman's company Web site, www.stick.com. Stick enthusiasts can peruse articles on the instrument, check out featured artists and browse assorted Stick products online. \nSobiech bought his first Chapman Stick® from a music shop in College Station, Tx., and started seriously performing with it four or five years ago. He uses it to play the blend of world, African, Brazilian and classical-jazz fusions that so characterize his style, and he peppers his shows with commentary he describes as "goofy" -- stories of places he's frequented and people he's seen. \nHe'll often describe the tale of a "mountain of a man" he and some college buddies at Berklee College of Music in Boston, where he studied for a short while, would often stumble upon. They'd glimpse the man playing for hours, toting only a battery-powered, hand-held amp and strumming a battered guitar on the corners of Commonwealth and Massachusetts Avenues, playing "distorted noise." \nBut one morning, as he and his friends were leaving their usual breakfast spot, they caught the mystery musician as he left a rundown tenement building. Sobiech worked up the courage to say hello, and the giant responded.\n"It's a beautiful day to play," he said, eyes turned skyward. It stuck with Sobiech, who instantly understood why the guitarist would stand, hour after hour, with little regard to how the notes he emitted sounded to the passing ear. \n"He just loved playing, and that's all that mattered," Sobiech says. "He was having fun, and that's kind of like I am. I have to be happy to play"