Studio musicians continue to put out their own albums, and some of us feel compelled to extrapolate a measure of artistic worth from these occasionally seductive but lightweight displays of the latest instrumental styles that might be loosely defined as "eclecti-funk." We've all heard these players contribute, briefly and eloquently, on many of our favorite recordings, and we continue to nurture the hope that they'll transcend their prodigious technical skills and give us music that sticks to the ribs.

Larry Carlton, the ace Los Angeles session guitarist who's played an integral part in the work of such class acts as Joni Mitchell, Steely Dan and the Crusaders, has the best shot at breaking free from the womblike confines of the studio and establishing a solo career. Despite the arsenal of signature techniques (moaning volume swells, rich tone and impeccable phrasing) Carlton brings to this debut LP, it's the startling presence of his playing that lends real spark to somewhat tepid musical settings. Like many of his colleagues, he runs the stylistic gamut: modified disco ("Room 335"), Latin ("Rio Samba") rock, jazz and the inevitable funk selection ("Nite Crawler," a reprise from the Crusaders). Happily, Carlton's vintage Gibson ES335 sings out with complete authority as he stretches his compositional talents to the limit.

Even though he strains his near-infallible self-editing a bit on extended sorties ("Point It Up"), and his material lacks final definition, the power of Larry Carlton's guitar puts him at least thirty-two bars ahead of the closest imitator.

Theoretician, teacher and Los Angeles session stalwart Lee Ritenour shows substantial improvement on his second album, The Captain's Journey, yet still suffers from one of the most hygienic guitar styles in existence. The material (critical bottom line for all these records) is more focused, but his instrumental work via a Gibson ES335 and a variety of synthesizers is often so thin and colorless that it's almost absorbed by the dense electronic textures swirling around it. From time to time, the guitarist breaks free from the yoke of technology and plays warm and eloquent solos on tunes like "Morning Glory" and the title opus. But even Ritenour's deft touch can't ultimately salvage a work that's literally drowning in a sea of influences. (RS 280)

J.C. COSTA