NOT TOO LONG AGO, studio artists were the unsung heroes of the music industry. Respected for their technical mastery, taste and absolute professionalism, they have long been a staple to the Joni Mitchells and Steely Dans, whose musical make-ups vary greatly from album to album. Because of the diverse needs of the artists with whom they work, studio musicians have become the Renaissance men of the industry. It is only in recent years that they have emerged as artists in their own right, releasing solo albums and touring with their own bands.

David Bromberg is one such studio player who appeared for years only in a back corner of someone else's album, hunched over one of a half-dozen musical instruments. In Reckless Abandon, his fourth or fifth solo album (depending on whether you toss any live albums into the count), he displays the fine musicianship typical of his studio work, coupled with refreshing disregard for the boundaries separating different musical genres.

Bromberg's early solo and studio work fell into a folk a and bluegrass style. His successful early songs, like "Hold-up," are a combination of fine guitar technique, a distinctive, highly expressive voice that hesitates ever-so-slightly before almost every phrase, and great lyrics:

Give me your money, don't stand there and shiver

Tax time is coming, give alms to the poor

Or I'll put a bullet right through your best liver

Wealth is disease, and I am the cure.

Bromberg would have been a musical find if excellent technique and humor were all he had to offer. But by 1974, when he recorded Wanted: Dead or Alive, the Bronx folkie had expanded his musical play-pen to include the Chicago blues sound, traditional Irish ditties, and just about anything else that falls into the categories of has or does not have a discernable beat. In Reckless Abandon (the title derives from the B. Kliban cartoons of the same name, which appear on the album cover), Bromberg continues his eclectic and humorous exploration of music, and does so successfully.

"I Want To Go Home," the opening cut, is a hard-driving, almost mainstream rock piece, that Bromberg blasts out in a ballsy, bluesy voice. One of the few songs on the album he wrote, indeed, one of the only contemporary songs, "I Want To Go Home" is a humorous study in seventies paranoia:

I want to go home.

My cover's been blown.

You'd best do the same.

I don't know who told Them,

But They're on to your game.

Oh, we're all in danger.