Photograph by Ryan Mastro

Teddy Presberg leans into his gorgeous classic Gretsch guitar, his right foot bopping slowly on one of a phalanx of pedals stretched on a board in front of him. He's playing a sinuous, dirty-sounding rhythmic riff, in concert with the loping bass of Shlomo Ovadya and the syncopated propulsive drums of Eric Nolley. The musical idea is simple at its heart — a representation in sound of the way a neighbor's dog walks — but this trio attacks it as though it means life itself. This is a celebration of movement, of musical collaboration in the moment, and of muscular momentum. This is pure funk.

Presberg was raised in Kirkwood but spent most of the last eight years in Oregon, where he attended the U. of O. and received a degree in environmental studies. He had always played music, though, and in fact had considered attending the Berklee College of Music before deciding he wanted to learn other things, too. While accompanying a singer/songwriter named Garrett Brennan, Presberg came up with a novel way of earning money through his talents.

"We cold-called Clif Bar," he says. "We were like, 'You guys endorse all these marathon runners and skiers and all sorts of folks. Shouldn't you endorse a musician? Musicians gotta eat, and people come to shows, they need their nutrition. They're dancing.' They said, 'Great, so what do you have in mind?'"

Next thing you know, Clif Bar was bankrolling a national tour, and the pair even stopped to record a live acoustic album in the mountains of Utah. "We weren't doing Motel 6s and McDonald's," Presberg says. "We were staying with friends, sometimes playing shows for 20 people at a theater, sometimes playing farmers' markets. That's when my job became my hobby, and my hobby became my job."

While Presberg continues to play acoustic folk and Americana music, he's released a solo album, Blueprint of Soul, which is funk with strong improvisational elements. "I used a real basic little recording system," he says. "I did it in my house, had an inspiring kitchen view. Usually my main instrument to write with was an acoustic guitar. It's kind of like the Jack Kerouac method of spontaneous creation, where you see your theme or target, and you meditate on it. Also, he used minimal editing. Same thing with this."

With that musical scrapbook of his life in Portland in hand, Presberg returned home to his St. Louis roots last summer; the fact that the Saint Louis Jazz Festival booked him before he'd been back a year says a lot about how the city has received him home. "I think the timing was right to come back here," he says. "I'd been in Oregon about eight years. I might go back sometime. It rains a lot out there. My fiancée is going to SLU. A lot of times in Oregon, it would be Thanksgiving with just a bunch of us orphans. It's a really cool, fun, young town ... but that family element was missing."

Another groove starts up. Presberg knocks out a staccato riff, bass notes slide around it, and the drums are in the pocket. St. Louis is lucky to have him back.