Diamond Dealer

Whereas many artists discuss their work with little prompting, like doting parents who can’t stop talking about their children, Ben Harper maintains a sense of reverential distance. His deference to the creative process stems from his belief that he is more an instrument than he is a musician.

“I’ve never sat down and tried to write a song in my life,” the 33-year-old California native explains. “I get the ideas, and I put them down, but it’s not something I try to do.”

For the past decade, Harper has been channeling his music for an ever-expanding fanbase. Though he has flirted with mainstream outlets — his single “Steal My Kisses,” from 1999’s Burn to Shine, spent some time in regular radio rotation — Harper credits his steady increase in recognition to word-of-mouth testimonials.

“What’s amazing is that this music has spread one disc at a time, one fan at a time,” Harper says. “So now if there’s some smash hit, you can never take away the fact of how this music has grown on its own. It’s been defined by the people who have embraced it, not by radio or video.”

Harper’s latest boldly eclectic release, Diamonds on the Inside, embraces everything from pure reggae to ’70s wah-wah funk guitar to acoustic blues. On one end of the volume spectrum, there’s the quiet, a cappella spirituality of “Picture of Jesus,” recorded with the African vocal ensemble Ladysmith Black Mambazo. On the other, there are straight-ahead hard-rock flourishes. This blend, stirred by Harper’s potent acoustic and electric slide-guitar work, renders Diamonds impossible to pigeonhole. Yet he maintains that he never intended to manufacture diversity.

“If it were a statement, it would be contrived,” Harper says. “It’s just an instinct. I just move with my emotion. It’s from the heart and the head and what’s right in between — my mouth.”

However, Harper admits that even he is amused by how the variety in his music has helped shape his career.

“The fact that I even exist in the record industry is outrageous, because everyone said I couldn’t do it,” Harper says with a laugh. “All the labels said, ‘No, it’s not this, it’s not that, it’s not the other thing.’ But man, I’ve been doing it so wrong for so long, it’s now become a style.”

Thematically, Diamonds also reveals itself to be an intensely spiritual album. Though a surface reading of tracks such as “When She Believes,” “Amen Omen,” “Blessed to Be a Witness” and “Picture of Jesus” allows a certain insight into Harper’s personal perspective, the songs resist categorization.

“I’m not religious,” Harper says. “Religion is man’s feeble attempt at defining the mystery of our existence. I believe in a higher power. I believe in divinity. I believe in the blessing of every passing second of every minute of every hour of every day. I believe in the divine direction of humanity and where we can lead each other. I believe in heaven on earth and above. I believe in karma. Sure, I sing “A Picture of Jesus,” but you know what? The chorus is Allah.”

Such dichotomies make Harper difficult to pin down. Some would say they just make Harper difficult, period. Pleasure and Pain, a documentary released on DVD last year, provides an intimate look into Harper’s life and music, but it also contains a number of uncomfortable run-ins with music journalists.

“There has been a rampant plague of lazy journalism, and I’m not having it,” Harper says wearily. “At first I was like, fuck, with this DVD out, I’m never going to do another press thing. I’m done, that’s it. That’s my mission statement, that’s my parting with the press. What ended up happening with that DVD is that out of most of my interviews now, I’d say 85 percent are good. Now if people are going to come at me, they’ve seen that and they know there’s no room for bullshit. I just hang up the phone.”

Harper pauses for a moment to consider his words before continuing.

“This is the last record I’m doing press,” Harper says. “I will not speak another word about my music after this album. If people don’t hear what I’m talking about in the music, they don’t need me to expound on it.”

Harper has no plans to retreat from the spotlight, though.

“You know, I’ve got my next five records planned out in my head,” Harper says. “Seriously, you may think that’s an overstatement, but I want to make a funk-soul record, I want to make a reggae record, I want to do an acoustic soul record with my mom, I want to do another eclectic record like this, I want to mix them all up into one bag and make some crazy sound that’s never been made. The thing is, you can only put out a record so often on a major label, so either I’m going to have to spend less time on the road and more time in the studio, or I’m just going to have to take my time.”

Less time on the road would compromise a touring schedule that often keeps Harper and the Innocent Criminals — his backing crew, consisting of bassist Juan Nelson, drummer Oliver Charles and percussionist Leon Mobley — performing 150 to 200 shows a year, making regular swings through Europe and hitting major festivals such as Bonnaroo in Manchester, Tennessee. Such relentless effort is at the core of both his popularity and his development as a musician.

“It keeps us sharp,” Harper says. “There’s going to be highs and lows on the road. That’s the nature of moving constantly and being in the wind. I will say this: Touring is what made these records improve and grow and evolve. I don’t know how long I’m going to keep this pace specifically, but for another couple of records, we’re going to be moving pretty hard.”

When Harper reflects on the path not taken — navigating his way through the fickle promises of radio airplay, MTV hipdom and charting singles — he becomes more confident in his sense of direction.

“This is the road I was supposed to be on,” Harper says. “And I’m on it with the clarity that only comes with having worked at something harder than I’ve ever worked at anything else.”