Robert Randolph Hits His Stride with Colorblind

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When I was a kid in East Texas there was a guitar shop called Mundt Music. It was a magical place for any pubescent would-be musician, stocked as it was with Strats, Les Pauls, Sunn amps, exotic guitars of every ilk and hue. It was a hangout where guitarists would spontaneously jam on the weekends, playing honky tonk, blues and hybrids that hooked into Spanish and classical influences. Tucked away in a corner was a Fender pedal steel that nobody ever sat down to play. It was hard to get worked up over a pedal steel with all the music candy that Mundt stocked. In those days, the steel guitar was a pretty sedate instrument.

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Fast forward to, I think, 2002, maybe 2003-- it doesn't really matter. I'm channel surfing late one night when I happen upon Letterman's mucical segment. Now I'm not the easily excitable sort, but what I'm seeing and hearing is hitting me like a solid jolt of caffeine. There's a guy on screen rocking the likes of which I'd not seen Stevie Ray Vaughnn's heydey-- and he's doing it on a freakin' pedal steel guitar!

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That was my introduction to Robert Randolph and the Family Band. I've been a fan ever since.

Anybody who can fuse Jimi Hendrix stylings to Jerry Lee Lewis antics, and make it actually work, is deserving of attention. Still, something about his first two albums, Live at the Wetlands and the studio second LP, Unclassified, didn't fully capture the intensity that Randolph brings to a performance.

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Colorblind, the third release by Robert Randolf and the Family Band, dispells any doubts about the band's ability to translate the excitement of their live performances to a studio recording format. From the infectious groove of the albums' opening track "Ain't Nothin' Wrong With That" to the closing tune "The Homecoming," Randolph makes it abundantly clear that he's come to funk you up, and he has no intention of taking any prisoners.

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To prove his point, he's packed the spirits of Sly and the Family Stone, Jimi Hendrix a touch of Parliament and Jeff Beck in his arsenal. As if that weren't enough, he's convinced the likes of Leela James, Eric Clapton and Dave Matthews to accompany him on his quest to reclaim funk-soul from the Visigoths. It's a formidable alliance.

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It takes more than a bit of audacity to have Eric Clapton play second on a song, but that's exactly what Randolph does in the blazing cover of the Doobie Brothers' "Jesus Is Just Alright."Though the rendition is almost a dead-on cover, the delineated duel between Clapton's Strat and Randolph's steel spins guitar competitions in an entirely different direction. What results is more subliteral communication than competition.

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No album can stand on balls to the wall funk alone, so when Randolph does slow it down, he brings in Leela James for atmospheric dimension. "Stronger" is a ballad that evokes both Motown and gospel, and nobody is more suited than Leela James to elevate the tune to its rightful echelon. For my money, she is the heir apparent to Aretha's crown, and Randolph's steel (and side vocals) only add ambrosia to a voice thoroughly steeped in soul.

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But when all is said and done, this is Robert Randolph's album. He loves his pedal steel, and all the intricacies he can pull out of those thirteen strings.With Colorblind, has potentially broken out of cult status to hit the mainstream. ABC Sports is even using "Thrill of It All" to intro their college football broadcasts. (You can hear it here. ) There's nothing wrong with that. In fact, anything that keeps funk alive can't be all bad.

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Robert Randolph is an artist to be reckoned with. Colorblind is is incontrovertible proof of that.