IT IS refreshing to come upon artists whose music does not fall into any single stylistic category, avoids the affectations of contemporary idioms, and consciously builds new music from the essential structures of the old. This is exactly what happened last Monday night at the School of Contemporary Musicwhen 25-year-old Cambridge singer Jeannie Lieberman was accompanied by composer/pianist Bruce Kushnick and guitarist Richard Johnson in a program spanning the gamut of contemporary music-from the surreal to the absurd, from a capella and dulcimer to electric.

Kushnick's varied styles, integrated with intricate, often poetic lyrics, evoke a spectrum of emotional responses from the listener. Kushnick says, "Sounds come in a variety of shapes and sizes, and the function of the composer is to put them all together and balance them in order to evoke some response from the listener." In technical terms, he says he deals with the expectations produced by structural formulas ("styles"), always modifying them by meddling with cadences, modulations, harmony and rhythm.

Just as Kushnick experiments with sounds and perceptions, Jeannie Lieberman sees herself as "a psychic emotional jiggler" who asks herself "deep root questions," and expects the listener to do the same. She uses her voice as an instrument, experimenting to discover the right texture, color and feel. The rising glissando in the second verse of "Velvet Sportcoat" abruptly alters the mood set by the song's first verse, and underscores the words: Haze like juice spilled slowly formless/Scent of citrus in my ears." In one of Johnson's compositions, "Instrumental," Lieberman makes bird like sounds that are almost primal as they echo above Joynson's gentle electric chord-picking.

THE DEMANDS the musicians make on the listener's untrained ear are substantial but not unreasonable. Consider "Ode to the Apocalypse," which is, in Kushnick's words, a "surrealist love song" about two lovers spending a last night together in the face of the apocalypse; it has seven verses, each of a diffegent mood, meter, and key. It also contains many of the purposely electic elements of Kushnick's "surrealistic neo-class avant garde jazz/rock and roll" music: in this case, a basically straightforward key progression beginning and ending in G minor, and a Beethoven-like hand-over-hand arpegio accentuated the alliteration in Lierberman and Daniel Dern's lyrics:

The sound of sirens screaming,

The roar of firetrucks rolling,

Policemen running, soldiers shooting--

Come and kiss me now.

The major problem in presenting an experimental cornucopia of new music is one of continuity. Lieberman and Kushnick seemed aware of this: they integrated Kushnick's five songs with Lieberman's virtuoso a capella opening song, "Poly Waly," and Lieberman's own version of the Stevie Winwood tune, "Can't find My Way Home." The Lieberman-Kushnick segment of the program began forcefully, and later drifted to the ethereal with "Holes in the Sky," a 32-bar rendition of a poem by Louis NacNiece. The next four songs formed a cycle beginning with the straightforward harmonic piece, "Velvet Sportcoat," followed by "Ode to the Apocalypse" and its fast-paced thematic cousin, "Ark Tangents," whose music dances upon Daniel Dern's surrela lyrics:

The newsbear growled,

The maildog barked,

The cleaning turtle threw me out.

The animals all look at me

Like something is terribly wrong.

The contemporary-pop-classical "The Life of Man" (Iyrics by Sir Walter Raleigh) provides a poignant adieu: "Thus march we, playing, to our latest rest,/Only we die in earnest, that's no jest.

Despite her great theatrical and emotional control, it was difficult for Lieberman to make a smooth transition to Richard Johnson's carefree folk tune "I Ain't Got the Blues No More." Johnson, a folksinger and slide guitarist who is well-traveled in the local club scene, made his first public appearance in nearly a year, made and produced many pleasant echo-cascading electric guitar sounds. Jeannie ended the concert alone, playing a pretty dulcimer piece and the intimate "Listen With Your Own Mind."

DESPITE THE rich musical offerings and exuberant performance, there were two problems with Liebermen's performance. The first was her partial disregard of the intricate lyrics of Kushnick's songs. Kushnick attaches a great deal of importance to the words of his compositions; they deserve similar consideration from the performer. Another source of annoyance was an emotional self-indulgence and slight preoccupation with exhibiting "sensitivity" during the remarks between songs. Yet through all this, the music and its energy prevailed.

The serious listener should have no problems, however, with Lieberman's music; one never feels "put on" by the composer or performer, and there is nothing gimmicky or superficially exotic here. Jeannie Lieberman, Bruce Kushnick and Richard Johnson have all worked hard on this labor of love, and their efforts have reaped remarkable results.