A grand old stag

"I'm kind of an old stag. Bloody but unbowed," singer-songwriter Rick Berlin says of the title of his new CD, Old Stag, out Sept. 16 on Hi-N-Dry Records. "I didn't think there's any reason to not say I'm old. I like drawing attention to that. I like the perseverance and humor of that image."

Indeed, Berlin has been making music since the early 70s, first with Orchestra Luna and then a half dozen other outfits. And though mainstream success has been elusive, and he's traded regular gigs at New York's legendary CBGB's for regular gigs at Boston's smaller Jacques Cabaret, Berlin is still standing and still making music - unlike some of his songwriter friends.

Although he was always interested in art, Berlin has little formal training in music. Instead he studied architecture. "It seemed like an art form you could make money from," he recalls, "but it appeared to me that there are very few great architects, and everyone else is slave to the collective mind. So I jumped ship and turned down a full scholarship to the Yale Architecture School." After stints as a teacher and actor, Berlin turned to songwriting.

"I was living in New Haven with a bunch of artists, two of whom were extraordinary songwriters," Berlin continues. "I'd been improvising on the piano on and off, and I decided to try to write a song. I just did it, because my friends did it." It was a eureka moment. "I realized that all my other art struggles were derivative ... my drawings looked like someone else, and my writing had a certain voice but wasn't wildly original, but my songs, because I didn't know what I was doing, came from a really innocent place. It felt really childlike. That changed as my career took off and it got a little cynical."

Yet there remains a childlike faith in the way Berlin's songwriting takes people just as they are. Not drawn to introspection - "I'm tired of myself," he laughs - Berlin's songs tend to be humble, honest slices of sidewalk reportage, little stories about people he knows or things he overheard. Berlin cites a Nick Cave quote as the model for his style: "He says there's always a song walking down the street, and if you don't catch it, someone else will."

Berlin has caught plenty of songs around Jamaica Plain, especially at Doyle's where he supplements his income by waiting tables. "You hear some pretty wild shit there," he says, and goes on to tell how he used to go next door to the Midway and hang out at Dyke Night.

"These girls were just having a blast," he laughs, "and there would be these Neanderthal straight guys standing there, staring at these hot girls, and looking jealous. I think lesbians seem to really have a good time with each other. I know there's drama too, but there's a really good group dynamic."

That image of a dance floor full of dykes inspired one of Old Stag's more whimsical songs, "Happy Lesbians in the Snow," in which Berlin imagines a happy female couple frolicking while "all the boys stand around wishing they were lesbians." Another song, "Michiko," is a funny rant about a weird roommate situation that is as close to verbatim as Berlin could get. "I heard this guy at the Brendan Behan doing a whole monologue about his roommate and I couldn't believe it," Berlin chuckles. "I ran upstairs and tried to write it all down."

While the lyrics are classic Berlin, the rich sound of Old Stag is something new, and a marked contrast from his stark last album, Me and Van Gogh. "I didn't want to do another album that was just piano and voice," Berlin says, "but at the same time I didn't want to make a strange quilt with banjo here and accordion there."

Berlin collaborated with Philadelphia composer Brendan Cooney on incorporating a string quartet into the mix. The result, a sort of duet between precise and melodic strings, and Berlin's plaintive roughhewn voice, is compelling and beautiful.

"Brendan's writing gives a depth of feeling to the songs instead of getting in the way," Berlin says enthusiastically. "I think [the strings] are my favorite thing about the record. I don't usually listen to my own wok once it's finished, but I haven't gotten tired of this one yet."

Berlin usually performs as a solo act, but fans can hear him live with a string quartet at the CD release party on Oct. 3 at Cambridge's Prospect Hall. A "carnivalesque" affair, the party will feature a number of Boston musicians playing with Berlin and on their own, as well as other performers. The event may be the last chance, outside the CD, to hear Berlin accompanied by strings, as he is wary of repeating himself.

In fact, Berlin is looking forward to switching gears and focusing on Jamaica Plain Spoken, the documentary project he's been working on for over three years. "My friend Todd [Drogy] and I are trying to figure out why Jamaica Plain seems to work ... why so many disparate elements get along here," he explains. "Maybe we can find a positive virus that will educate the rest of the country."

The two have conducted more than 70 interviews with JP residents, and are now thinking about how to weave them together. But Berlin says they still need to do some more interviews to fully capture the community.

For him, people's stories are just like songs. There's always one walking down the street, waiting to be caught.

Order Old Stag online at www.rickberlin.com.