“Not a lot of smart people write about Rock & Roll,” drummer Butch Trucks told me last night, as he prepped onstage for the Allman Brothers Band’s second night at Boston’s Orpheum Theatre.
Trucks’ statement frightens me, especially when beginning a Rock & Roll review, but it’s true. While a critic can magnify infinitesimally small technicalities to plebianize musical theory (or to flaunt to their own musical knowledge) and can also describe the concert hall atmosphere created, reporting from either end of the spectrum is insufficient. But then again, providing a hybrid of the two results in generic reviews.
So what to do? How to describe the experience that is seeing the Allman Brothers Band?
What my time with Butch Trucks, both at the Orpheum and during our recent interview (http://goo.gl/UTGAw) revealed, is that formulas, both in music and music reviews, die swift and unnoticed deaths. New musical law is inscribed in prestissimo, the pace of an incalculable time signature, and is then erased, dust from which the next movement is scribbled.
The Allman Brothers Band knows this. Remaining not only relevant, but beloved for more than forty years, the ABB understands that continuous transformation, while safeguarding allegiance to roots, is essential to survival in an ever-expanding universe of musical acts.
The ABB fans knows this too because they have responded for 40 years, not only sustaining, but sharing in ABB’s luminous career.
Not a lot of smart people write about Rock & Roll. But in contrast to transient reporters, fans are the ones who understand the Allman Brothers Band. They are the ones who must be consulted to truly encapsulate the vivacity of an Allman Brother Band concert.
Here goes:
Meet Joey and Peter, two rounded 50-ish cherubim rejuvenated by their band and their Pabst Blue Ribbon, both featured on the Live at the Fillmore East album, both now present.
“YAAAH! That’s what I’m talkin’ about! “People can you feel it, love is in the air!’”
“Dude, Derek is a f—kin’ monstah, I sweah to god, Duane is here.”
“Well why do ya think they named him Derek, man? Derek & the Dominos? He’s gotta live up to Allman and Clapton – and he is!
“And Warren too, my gahd. Look at the way his face scrunches when he hits those notes. So much f—kin’ passion. And that growl…”
“Gregg’s soundin’ a bit tired, though. I can barely hear ‘im.”
“That’s cause the f—kin’ techies don’t have him turned up. Watch those hands, Joey. He’s so quick.”
“Dude, I think this is a – uh – Muddy Watas song. “
“I’m feelin’ the blues man, I’m feelin’ it!”
INTERMISSION
“’Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More!” They nevah play this song. Ya know he wrote it after we lost Duane, god rest his soul.”
“Gregg’s soundin’ good on this one, baby. He’s still got it!”
“Dude, they’re gonna play all of “Eat a Peach!” Mother f—ker’, I’ m dyin’ heah, seriously, I’m dyin.”
“Ahh, look, Gregg’s getting’ on guitah for “Melissa!”
“Petah, what the f—k you sittin’ for? Stand back up!”
“But this is “Mountain Jam,” it’s f—kin’ 30 minutes long!”
“I don’t care! Get the f—k up!”
A man several seats back: “SIT THE F—K DOWN!”
“YOU STAND THE F—K UP!”
“Ahh! Check out Butch is on those, uh, whaddya call them?”
“Kettle drums, ya idiot.”
“Oh yah! That sound fills the entiah thetah, listen!”
30 minutes later:
“F—k. That was unbelievable.”
“YAAAH! AIN’T BUT ONE WAY OUT BABAY!”
“Yah gonna haveta stop dancin’ like that Joey or ya gonna fall ova the f—kin’ balcony.”
“CAUSE THERE’S A MAN DOWN THEYA!
“F—k. This “Stand Back” is so funky.”
“Derek’s got some jazz in him baby.”
“F—k man, “Blue Sky” is what this band is about. I can see America man.”
“Ya man, you can see the past, you can see the future.”
“You can see Duane, man. Berry too.”
“I feel like I’m part of this band, man.”
“You’re an Allman!”
“Everyone’s an Allman. F—k. Everyone’s an Allman.”
Not a lot of smart people write about Rock & Roll.
But that’s because the fans are smarter.
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