In this age of Midi programs and ADATs, anybody can make a record. But with a career that spans nearly 30 years in the Southern rock and R 'n' B scene, Randall Bramblett is too smart, experienced, and artistic to just "make a record." On No More Mr. Lucky, his debut release for New West Records, the veteran keyboardist and prolific songwriter has gone from being a fine writer, player, and singer to being a "composer."

No More Mr. Lucky finds Bramblett making use of all his experience and influences gathered over the years he's spent working sessions in Georgia and New Orleans, backing touring artists such as Gregg Allman and Steve Winwood, and recording with the likes of Robbie Robertson, Widespread Panic, Gov't Mule, and the critically acclaimed jazzy project with Chuck Leavell, Sea Level. His first solo release since 1998's rocking See Through Me combines soul, blues, funk, rock, and just a dollop of melancholy Southern pop, resulting in a wide-screen, Technicolor, entirely adult album filled with moody, restless lyrics and entrancing instrumental performances.

Bramblett studied religion in college and was accepted to the Harvard divinity school when he side-tracked into music and session work, so it is no surprise to find spirituality, mysticism, philosophical musing, and soul-searching in his songs. The album opens with "God Was In The Water," an ominous groove track about desperation and the search for salvation. The multi-talented Bramblett colors this track with an intrusive saxophone that adds a dark question mark

God was in the water that day
Pickin' through the roots and stones
Trippin' over sunken logs
Tryin' not to make his presence known
God was in the water that day
Wadin' in careful steps
Bubbles rising from His feet
Comin' up from the muddy depths

Perhaps the most musically adventurous and inventive track on No More Mr. Lucky is "Get In Get Out." Bramblett's vocals border on rap and show the influences of fellow Georgian James Brown. This track is all attitude and pulsing syncopation, and its horns will grab your head and your feet.

Get in get out breathe out the dark
All you can do is save yourself
Leave the rest behind

Bury your folks in Tennessee dirt
Black coat black tie and starched white shirt
Wash your hands
But you never saw no ever after
Just folded flags and ten commandments
Stickin' up out of the graveyard sand
Get in get out

The strength of Mr. Bramblett's compositions and musical structures is their atmospherics. These songs and the playing evoke the emotions in question as well as any music I've heard. "Peace In Here" is a fine example, with its lilting soul-rock structure and repetitive happy groove seeming to fuse perfectly with Bramblett's lyric and the feelings it means to stir.

I'm just a tired dusty engine windin' down to sleep
Pent up and washed out
Had all the air pulled out of me
Gonna lock every door, bolt the windows down tight
Turn off the TV and shut off all the lights
I want some peace in here
Gotta have some peace in here

Always philosophical, "Hard To Be A Human" sees Bramblett turning enigmatic phrases one after the other as the band cooks a swampy blues-rock funk behind the vocal. Like several of the tracks on the album, "Hard To Be A Human" may remind listeners of the monster Marc Cohn hit "Walking In Memphis." Bramblett works his Hammond Billy Preston style in coloring this funky piece.

First He made the mountains
Then He filled up the sea
He lost his concentration
Workin' on you and me

I was walkin' in the garden, goin by the plan
Dreamin' 'bout my baby
Apple in her hand

It's not all funk and philosophy with Mr. Bramblett. On "End Of The String," written with guitarist Jason Slatton, Bramblett and bandmates David Causey (electric guitar), producer John Keane (guitars), Michael Rhodes (bass), Joe Bonadio (drums) give free rein to their rocking, energetic, muscular side. Causey finds that Allman Brothers' slide guitar tone and works it hard. With three electric guitars in play, this track comes straight at you.

Cracklin' buzz of a neon sign
I got a mean old rain drippin' in my mind
And I'm wadin' through a heavy cotton snow
Bottles to bottles, end to end
I don't know if I'm ever gonna sleep again without you

And I know that we're still tangled up
And I know these words can never be enough
To ever bring you back again
And I always want you by my side
You know how far down I can slide
Don't you think I feel a thing
At the end of the string?

The simplest arrangement on the album, the soft and folk-poppy "Disappearing Ink," should be a hit single. In an album filled with smart, adult lyrics, "Disappearing Ink" stands out for its beauty, its simple directness, and its completely universal appeal. Acoustic guitars give this track an intimate singer-songwriter feel and camouflage the melancholy undercurrent. Coupled with the minimalist imagery, Bramblett's vocal delivery pushes the chorus right past the brain to the deepest recesses of the heart. There is no defense against Bramblett on this one.

Everything breaks down once in a while
And you can't believe your eyes
Or trust a stranger's smile
Everything you always thought you knew
Doesn't ring the same to you
Even your sky is faded through

Flowers in the window
Dishes in the sink
Letter that you wrote me
Disappearing ink

Unless you are the type to pay particular attention to album credits or are plugged into the Southern musical underground, it is unlikely Randall Bramblett is a familiar name or quantity. He should be. His No More Mr. Lucky is a rich, textured, utterly sophisticated record that should finally bring Bramblett the type of acclaim and recognition from the public he's always had with critics and musicians in his long career. I can't recommend No More Mr. Lucky highly enough. It's a brilliant work, a porterhouse steak of an album among all the trendy Lean Cuisine.

*Randall Bramblett's No More Mr. Lucky is available at the home of Billy Joe Shaver, Delbert McClinton, Tim Easton, Chuck Prophet, and Jon Dee Graham, New West Records. Judge him by the musical company he keeps.

William Michael Smith
Rockzilla.com