Channeling His Sensitive Side

You’d think the stubbornly iconoclastic Los Angeles group the Negro Problem, whose two albums are peppered with references to MacArthur Park, Disneyland and other things quintessentially L.A., would be the only outlet its leader, Stew, needs to fulfill his every creative whim--after all, TNP’s often catchy if frequently eccentric music effortlessly blends the influences of such fellow Angelenos as the Fifth Dimension, the Association and Frank Zappa.

But in September, Stew (whose real name is Mark Stewart) will release his first solo album, “Guest Host.” In part it’s an effort to keep his band more, er, focused.

“In addition to our carnival-esque, kitchen-sink pop thing, there was always this closet, mutant Gordon Lightfoot thing happening,” says 38-year-old Stew, whose rapid-fire, articulate speaking manner contrasts with the rambling, free-form poetry of his songwriting. “I had to exorcise that demon, because I want the next Negro Problem record to [get] back to our over-the-top thing. The solo career is where all the sensitive, weepy stuff can reside.”

Indeed, he says, some Negro Problem fans prefer the sensitive Stew who’s heard on hidden acoustic tracks on its 1997 debut album, “Post Minstrel Syndrome,” as well as sporadically throughout last year’s “Joys & Concerns.” “There are even people who don’t like the band but do like the quiet stuff,” he says.

Given how all-over-the-place TNP is, it’s hard to characterize “Guest Host,” on the Telegraph Co. label, as a departure. The songs are stripped down, spotlighting Stew’s powerful, sweet and vulnerable vocals. But they are still quirky, ranging from groovy soul-pop to a ‘20s jazz sound. Such longtime TNP associates as Lisa Jenio (flute) and Probyn Gregory (guitar, horns) appear, as does TNP bassist Heidi Rodewald, who co-produced with Stew.

And allusions to his L.A. world, from Echo Park to local rock singer Brian Grillo to the LA Weekly, still figure prominently in the songs.

“It’s nowhere near my favorite city or anything, but it’s impossible to get Los Angeles out of my work,” says the L.A. native, who grew up in the Pico-Fairfax area, resides in North Hollywood and also has lived in Europe and New York. “Every time I’ve moved away, the Los Angeles stuff just came out even more.

“[Los Angeles] is like a weird other planet. I never felt completely on this planet, but I find it important to name places and things [because] it makes people realize the song is about something that actually exists.”

This technique helps pull listeners past the artfulness and connect with the heart of his songs. Combined with the relatively straightforward approach of “Guest Host,” it may also, in today’s dumbed-down pop climate, attract a wider audience.

“I’m not saying you have to be dumb to communicate, but you do have to be really direct,” he says. “The Beatles were good at treading that line.”

Although his solo songs come closer to that ideal, he says with a laugh, “I have failed miserably at being simple.”

His model in creating new niches is funk hero George Clinton and his numerous Parliament offshoots of the late ‘70s. Stew isn’t planning to start a funk group, but he does have “a whole batch of songs that would be perfect for a three-part-harmony girl group,” he says.

Not that he’ll have time to put it together. After all, there’s a brief solo tour coming in October, which fans can preview at a record-release party slated for Sept. 11 at the Knitting Factory in Hollywood. Meanwhile, he says, “TNP has been experimenting with trying to become a weird bar band,” by playing four sets a night in Pasadena pubs.

A lesser man might feel pulled too many ways, but Stew is blissful about finally marking boundaries between projects. “In that respect, it’s like those weird kids that don’t like their food to touch on the plate,” he says. “There’s always one in the family.”

THREE’S A TREND: Speaking of solo albums, another premier L.A. pop band, Baby Lemonade, has taken a momentary back seat to individualism--this time in stereo. Co-founding singer-songwriters Mike Randle and Rusty Squeezebox, who a few years ago backed Arthur Lee in a revival of ‘60s pop icon Love, recently released solo collections on Fullerton-based eggBERT Records.

The recordings are like two pieces of a puzzle, complementary yet with distinct differences. “Yeah, and mine’s better, right?” prompts Squeezebox with a laugh.

Well . . . his “Isotopes” does stay a little closer to Baby Lemonade’s sprawling pop aesthetic, in a spacey, bedroom-lounge way. But Randle doesn’t abandon the craft, and there’s a low-key charm to his sparer “My Music Loves You (Even If I Don’t),” which sports a black-and-white wraparound cover photo that sends up Leonard Cohen’s 1977 album “Death of a Ladies’ Man.”

The band hasn’t broken up, Squeezebox says, and since he and Randle love to harmonize, they’re even performing their solo material together, switching off songs during a single set, a la Aimee Mann and Michael Penn’s recent “Acoustic Vaudeville” shows.

They plan to release a Baby Lemonade EP later this year and a new album in early 2001. In the meantime, the solo albums have given them an outlet for works that don’t fit the context of the group.

“Whether we like it or not,” Squeezebox says, “Baby Lemonade’s songs always turn out a certain way. But it’s fun to do all different kinds of music.”