Searching for Thin Places
Sideman Randall Bramblett reemerges solo from shadows
While it’s common enough that a backing musician will contribute indispensable support to a marquee star, more often than not, if a sideman makes a play for the spotlight, they fail. For every Sheryl Crow, Jimi Hendrix or Phil Collins, 100 others never achieve bill-topping status. Athens-based multi-instrumentalist Randall Bramblett is a rare exception.
In the late ’70s, Bramblett served time with jazz/pop Allman Brothers Band spin-off Sea Level, and released a few well-reviewed but commercially disappointing solo albums. Yet Bramblett’s rent was paid — at least for a while — by his sideman duties. Accomplished on multiple woodwinds, keyboards and guitar, Bramblett’s name can be found in the small print on projects from Gregg Allman’s solo recordings to ’70s albums by Cowboy, John Hammond Jr., Johnny Jenkins, Hydra, Elvin Bishop and the Atlanta Rhythm Section.
But after the Southern boogie bubble burst, Bramblett was unemployed. He reluctantly ditched music to concentrate on a career in social work until a surprise call from ex-Traffic leader Steve Winwood in 1988 changed those makeshift plans. An invitation for Bramblett to become a member of Winwood’s solo band — and later a reformed Traffic (whom Bramblett joined on stage as the group was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame last month) — let the Georgian resume his supporting role, this time with a reliable paycheck. More importantly, it revived interest in Bramblett’s solo career.
“It definitely returned me to the mainstream of music ... and it got my confidence back,” says Bramblett in the relaxed, grainy, but passionate drawl that also functions as his singing voice. Soon artists such as Francine Reed, Vigilantes of Love, Gov’t Mule and Widespread Panic were calling ... again.
According to Bramblett, Winwood’s invite “was one of those weird things ... it was a sign.” Even though the two musicians’ upbringings were an ocean apart, they share similar influences. “Steve uses me because I can do a lot of different things instrumentally, and I relate to his music well,” says Bramblett.
Perhaps not surprisingly, the trilogy of Bramblett discs released since 1998 shows aspects of Winwood’s subtly eclectic R&B, jazz and mildly psychedelic folk/roots rock. Certainly Bramblett’s 2001 disc, No More Mr. Lucky, and his new Thin Places are infused with — but not dictated by — the moody, textured atmospheres that hang like a thick British fog over Traffic/Winwood’s most riveting work.
Lyrically, Bramblett and co-writer/guitarist Jason Slatton’s oblique, picturesque, often dreamlike musings (“sitting in the sun with a black coat on,” “neon dirt is turning red as blood”) also owe much to freewheeling, surreal Traffic songs like “Dear Mr. Fantasy,” “Coloured Rain” and “40,000 Headmen.”
“I’m trying to set the mood and create an image so people can close their eyes,” says Bramblett. His music evokes a shadowy, pensive vibe that, punctuated with his conversational vocals, gradually creeps up on the listener. Producer Michael Rhodes layers the instruments but focuses on Bramblett’s melancholy voice, brooding keyboards and, to a lesser extent, stirring sax, which adds an early Van Morrison groove.
“Nobody’s Problem,” “You Can Be the Rain” and “Red Booth,” all from Thin Places, use thoughtful descriptions and low-key yet brisk instrumentation to formulate black-and-white scenes and characters who, like Bramblett, shuffle through life hesitant but hopeful. With winding melodies and unusual lyrical juxtapositions, the songs invite — almost demand — repeated listening to unravel their meanings.
“That’s the difficult part of getting this stuff heard,” says Bramblett. “You’re not necessarily going to get it on the first go-round. You just hope people will be patient enough to listen to it again.
“There’s a little more hope in this record than the last one,” continues Bramblett, while admitting that the words “dark,” “night” and “black” appear repeatedly in Thin Places’ 11 tracks. “This one is brighter and not as obscure.”
The album’s title also reflects its searching qualities. It’s a Celtic phrase that Bramblett describes as “a thin veil between the seen and the unseen, the material and the spiritual.
“All the songs can be thought of in that way, where someone is having a wake up,” says Bramblett. “And that’s what ‘thin places’ are, when you can see through your regular life.”