By Stratton Lawrence

Around the third minute of “The Way We Rise,” the opening track of The Offering, the new album from Oteil Burbridge and Lamar Williams, Jr., the song breaks down from its structured verses and chorus into an ethereal saunter, as if the band looked up to discover the Northern Lights in the sky and kept on playing.

That may be close to reality. Burbridge and Williams took their bandmates from Oteil & Friends to Iceland to record, and the aurora borealis lights up the cover art.

“We were feeling the magic over there,” says Williams of recording at Flóki Studios on the island’s Arctic coast. “There’s so much beauty on this peninsula, and nothing to do but record music and eat great food.”

Fermented shark did make the menu, but Williams’ fondest memories are of five-course dinners highlighted by delicate cheeses and savory lamb shanks. “It’s a ten-star experience,” Williams recalls.

Williams first recorded in Iceland with the New Mastersounds, and his name is on many of their tracks as “featuring Lamar Williams, Jr.,” but at 48-years-old, after decades performing, The Offering is the first time he’s shared the top line. And even this album took over a decade to come to light. After Burbridge married in 2009, his wife went to Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo for a year to work with gorillas. Burbridge coped with the time alone by learning to play her banjo, plus occasional jam sessions with Williams, who lived nearby in Atlanta.

Williams took recordings of Burbridge on banjo and wrote lyrics with his songwriting partner, Victor Clark, which led to demos and loose plans to record an album. Soon after, Dead & Co formed, with Burbridge on bass. Williams joined the New Mastersounds and the North Mississippi All-Stars. It wasn’t until those projects slowed down that Burbridge suggested they revisit their demos from years before.

“It was finally the perfect season,” says Williams of releasing The Offering. “The universe knew when it was supposed to come out.”

What started as simple banjo-driven ideas quickly expanded into jam vehicles under the guidance of Burbridge and producer Alan Evans (Soulive). “Oteil bakes the vibe into the music,” says Williams. “Those (jams) happen organically on stage, so why would you do it differently in the studio? We just let the feeling create itself.”

That’s an ethos that echoes the work of Williams’ father, who played bass in the Allman Brothers Band from 1972 to 1976, the role that Burbridge then filled from 1997 to 2014. Williams, Sr., passed from lung cancer when his son was just four, likely due to exposure to chemicals while serving in Vietnam.

“The memory of my dad is something that’s still in my feet. It’s rooted in me. I’ve never been able to shake it,” says Williams, Jr., recalling how his dad loved to watch sci-fi movies in their basement. After he returned from a run of gigs (likely with Sea Level), Williams, Jr., recalls walking on his dad’s back while he lied on the ground watching a movie. “Just steadily, working out the kinks, feeling what he was feeling,” says Williams. “That’s my fondest memory of him, being so young.”

Williams now has three teenage children of his own, but he says he doesn’t push them in any musical direction. “It’s hard to help them understand the blues,” he laughs.

Burbridge, although only 13 years older than Williams, Jr., made an outsized impact on the young man. “He’s been perpetuating me and holding me down since my teenage years,” says Williams of his bandmate and mentor.

Williams’ childhood in Macon also shaped his musical journey. By the ‘80s, the heyday of Capricorn Records had passed, and many of downtown’s buildings were boarded up. Music programs in schools barely existed, so Williams gravitated toward singing in church. He’s “tinkered” with instruments his whole life, but realized early that his voice was his greatest gift.

“When you get exposed to music young, it just stays in you,” says Williams, who will follow The Offering with his solo debut album in 2027, also recorded with Alan Evans. Its release will be a poignant moment for the singer, whose life has crescendoed into this pair of records, and those still to come.

“If I leave the planet, I hope it still comes out so you can hear it,” says Williams. “I pinch myself, and I hate to talk about things before they happen. I want to make sure I speak goodness into the air.”

The Food That Fuels Lamar Williams, Jr.

On the H&H Soul Food Restaurant in Macon: “In my 20s, I loved going in. The flavor was so prominent, no holding back on the seasoning. I’d get to hug Mama (Louise). There’s been so many variations, but it’s such an endearing spot. Right now, it’s so good. It’s hittin’ the note, so to speak.”

On his mother’s cooking: “My mom and dad were both raised on the Mississippi coast, so her heritage was coastal Southern foodways. She always leaned toward big pots of things, because you want to have leftovers. We ate a lot of red beans and rice, and fried chicken with cornbread. Momma would soak beans overnight in her concoction of whatever, and the next morning she’d put them on slow with all the seasonings, onions, peppers, celery, a little garlic. I remember she always put butter in it, and a little sugar and thyme.”

On cooking for his family today: “I go by mom’s recipe, soaking beans to let the gases release overnight. As I get older, I’ve gotten into grilling. I eat grilled food every day when I can.”

Patient Offerings: Lamar Williams, Jr., Finally Steps Into the Light