In spring of 1992, Brad, who was Guitar World Editor in Chief, set up an amazing cover story interview - with Metallica’s James Hetfield interviewing Black Sabbath’s Tony Iommi. It was one of the first of what became a GW trademark of having a younger guitarist interviewing one of their heroes.

We did the photo shoot at rented studio downtown, where Brad planned to also conduct the interview. I was GW Managing Editor, basically Brad’s wing man and my role that day was to help with the interview and anything else to make sure all went smoothly. During the photo session, Brad pulled me over and said, “They want to do it in a bar. Can you run out and see if you can find a place that would work?”

Amazingly, just a block away was a quiet, mostly empty Irish bar. I told the bartender I had to do an interview - I don’t think I gave any details - and asked him to hold the back booth for me, promising to be back within an hour. We returned, settled in back in there, ordered a round of pints, and Hetfield pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper nfilled with hand-written questions for his idol. And so it began.

Metallica’s heavy drinking habits were well known; the band was often referred to as , “Alcoholica.” James was a decade away from his first efforts at sobriety, which came in 2001 when he entered a residential rehab facility. A decade earlier. Brad and I were stupid enough to let James set the pace and he continuously signaled the waitress for another round. Tony was right there with him. So were Brad and I, but my God. I wasn’t too far off my professional drinking days, but this was something else.

The interview was really good - see below - but things got fuzzy and Tony said something that led to us getting sued and having to pay a small settlement. That’s another story for another day. After we talked and drank for an hour or more, I rose to use the bathroom and could hardly move through the pack d crowd. The bar, which was empty when we entered had filled up as Saturday afternoon became Saturday evening. Little did those downtowners downing pints know that two kings of heavy metal guitar were in their midst. I remember getting worried if the tape recorder would possibly pick up the interview amidst the growing din. Luckily, that was Brad’s problem to suss out. He tanscribed and edited the interview.

Eventually we stumbled out of there and I probably went home and went to bed. Here’s an abridged version of the interview, with Brad’s own intro. It was the cover of the August, 1992 Guitar World.

By Brad Tolinski

WHEN I BROUGHT Black Sabbath guitarist Tony Iommi and Metallica singer and rhythm guitarist James Hetfield together for an interview in 1992, they were meeting for the first time. Yet in a musical sense, they were hardly strangers; Hetfield had spent much of his life inhabiting a world Iommi had created.

Plenty of rock guitarists have a legitimate claim to being the most influential of all time. Jimi Hendrix transformed the sound and vocabulary of the electric guitar. Chuck Berry established the instrument as the engine of rock and roll. Eddie Van Halen reinvented its technique for a new generation. But Tony Iommi did something arguably even more consequential: he created an entire musical ecosystem.

Iommi’s innovations extended far beyond his ominous tone and down-tuned guitar. Together with singer Ozzy Osbourne, bassist and chief lyricist Geezer Butler, and drummer Bill Ward, he established the basic grammar of heavy metal: the riff as the central compositional force; the use of chromatic movement and the tritone to create menace; and the idea that sheer sonic weight could carry emotional meaning. His guitar did more than provide accompaniment or decoration. It created an atmosphere that was industrial, apocalyptic, supernatural and profoundly alienated.

Most influential guitarists inspire other guitarists. Iommi inspired genres. Doom, thrash, sludge, stoner rock, death metal, grunge, glam and industrial metal all contain some trace of his musical DNA. Even musicians who rejected Black Sabbath’s tempos, imagery or monumental heaviness embraced Iommi’s fundamental proposition: a sufficiently powerful riff could become the song.

More than a half century after Black Sabbath’s debut, heavy metal remains perhaps the most durable commercial laboratory for electric-guitar innovation. It is one of the few substantial corners of popular music in which guitarists are still expected to search for new tunings, new tones, new rhythmic languages and new extremes of precision and physical impact. Pop music continues to use the guitar but rarely asks the instrument to reinvent itself. Metal does.

Share

METALLICA HAD CARRIED Iommi’s revolution into another generation. Guitarist Hetfield did not merely imitate the Black Sabbath sound. He extended Iommi’s method, making the riff faster, tighter and more rhythmically exact. With the enormous success of Metallica’s self-titled “Black Album,” he also demonstrated that music descended from Sabbath’s forbidding early records could conquer mainstream culture without surrendering its essential heaviness.

That is what makes this conversation more than a fascinating archival encounter between two musicians. It captures a symbolic meeting between the architect of heavy metal and one of his most consequential descendants. One man invented the language, and the other used it to address the world.

Despite metal’s typically grim disposition, the conversation with Iommi and Hetfield was anything but solemn. Conducted over many drinks at a New York tavern, with my fellow rock journalist Alan Paul joining the exchange, it proved to be a surprisingly good time with plenty of belly laughs.

Tony, what were your earliest influences?

TONY IOMMI In the beginning I was primarily influenced by old blues records. Since liner notes on most blues 78s were either sketchy or non-existent, I never knew who half of the musicians were. I still don’t.

What was your first band like?

TONY IOMMI There were six of us: the four original members of Black Sabbath plus a sax player and a slide guitar player. I think we called ourselves the Polka Tulk Blues Band, or something equally stupid. We eventually broke up so we could get rid of the sax and slide player. The four of us wanted to move away from the blues thing.

How did you make the leap from playing traditional blues to composing the heavy, riff-oriented music that characterized Sabbath?

TONY IOMMI We just became so fed up with people talking while we were playing that we said, screw it, let’s turn it up so they won’t be able to chatter. [laughs] The band just kept getting louder and louder.

Did your new sound provoke an immediate response from the audience?

TONY IOMMI After we wrote “Wicked World” and “Black Sabbath,” we thought, well, we’re going to have to try them out. When we did, everybody in the club just froze. All these blues people just scratched their heads and said, “What’s that?” The reactions were very strong, both pro and con. But I think most people enjoyed what we were doing because they had never heard anything like it.

James, how did Metallica come to pioneer thrash metal?

JAMES HETFIELD Like Tony, we also played cover tunes when we first started. We were influenced by the New Wave of British Heavy Metal, which included bands like Venom and Diamond Head—underground stuff. We learned a bunch of songs from a batch of obscure imported singles. Most people thought we were performing originals which was good for us—we took all the credit! You know: “Hey, you guys write good songs.” We certainly weren’t going to tell them the truth. [laughs]

Eventually we started playing everything faster because, just like Sabbath, the crowd wasn’t paying attention to us and that pissed us off. We decided to try to wake everybody up by playing faster and louder.

Nervousness also contributed to our sound. Our drummer Lars was always nervous onstage, so he’d play faster and faster. It was a huge challenge for us, but nobody wanted to wimp out and tell him that he was playing too fast. We just figured, hell, we’ll just play fast, too. It became part of a game.

Tony, in the early days of Sabbath, did you ever feel like you were competing with other heavy bands like Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin?

TONY IOMMI Certainly. There was always competition between Zeppelin, Purple and ourselves. In fact, Robert Plant and John Bonham were from Birmingham, which was our hometown. We all knew each other, which made it worse! John was actually my best man when I got married.

The main thing I remember about Bonham was that he was in an incredible number of groups. He’d only be in them for a week, and they’d get rid of him because he was too loud. He had this tremendous list of bands that he’d played with written on his bass drum case. He’d cross the old one off and then add the next one.

Was it hard to play in a tough factory town like Birmingham?

TONY IOMMI It had an effect on us. We were completely surrounded by violence and pollution, so that was a big part of our music. We were living our music.

What’s your best Ozzy story?

TONY IOMMI There are so many. Here’s one. We were all in an elevator in this real plush hotel, and Ozzy decided to take a crap. As he was doing it, the elevator was going down to the reception floor. The door opened suddenly, and there was Ozzy with his pants around his knees. And all these people in fur coats were just staring at him with their mouths open. [laughs]

JAMES HETFIELD I heard that your drummer Bill Ward once showed up for a tour with his only suitcase filled with beer!

TONY IOMMI Well, Bill never used to take many clothes at all. And when he did, he’d have two suitcases—one with dirty clothes and one with dirtier clothes. [laughs]

I used to do terrible things to Bill. I actually set him on fire once—honest to God. We were recording Heaven and Hell, and I asked, “Can I light you on fire, Bill?” And he said, “Well, not now.” So, I said, “Okay,” and then forgot about it.

An hour later Bill said, “I’m going home now. Do you still want to set me ablaze or what?” I said, “Sure.” So, I got this bottle of petrol, tipped it on Bill, set fire to him and—voormph! I couldn’t believe it! He went up like a Christmas tree. He screamed and started rolling around on the floor. His clothes started burning and his socks melted, and the nylon socks stuck to his legs. I wasn’t able to help him because I couldn’t stop laughing.

It was actually pretty serious, and he had to go to the hospital. I felt really bad. He had third-degree burns on his arms and legs and everywhere. The next day his mother phoned me up and said, “You balmy bastard. Our Bill is going to have to have his leg off.” She exaggerated a bit, but things like that were a regular occurrence with Bill.

Subscribe now

Tony, you were one of the first rock guitarists to lower the pitch of your strings, which helped create Sabbath’s signature dark sound.

TONY IOMMI People would always tell me, “You can’t lower the pitch of your strings, that’s not right. I actually used several different tunings. I would try anything. Occasionally, I’d tune as much as three semitones down for Ozzy because he couldn’t hit certain notes.

JAMES HETFIELD Wow! So, you tuned down to a C# or something?

TONY IOMMI We’d try anything to make our sound heavier.

JAMES HETFIELD Wasn’t it hard to stay in tune, especially since you use lighter strings?

TONY IOMMI It was. But I had to use light strings. I had a work-related accident that cut off the tips of my fingers. As a result, I can’t bend heavier strings. I can’t even feel the strings [shows us his amputated fingers]. See, this one’s cut off, and that one’s off that way.

JAMES HETFIELD Whoa!

TONY IOMMI Suddenly, I had to develop a new way of playing. Ironically, I had the accident on the same day that I was supposed to quit my factory job to tour Germany with this group. So, when I started playing again, I had to devise a new way. I used to play a lot with my forefinger and pinkie because the two middle fingers were bandaged up. I learned to use and bend with my little finger a lot.

As you can imagine, I also had to learn to play standard chords in very unorthodox ways. Then I created these plastic thimbles that extended the length of my fingers, which allowed me to play in a more normal fashion.

JAMES HETFIELD Why did you need the thimbles? Why couldn’t you just use your shortened fingers?

TONY IOMMI There’s only one layer of skin that covers the bone. Sometimes when I’m playing, the thimbles accidentally come off and…

JAMES HETFIELD Ouch! So basically, cutting off the tips ofyour fingers indirectly led you to develop this completely unique style.

TONY IOMMI Yeah. At first I thought I was finished, because I went to all of these specialists and they said, “Forget it, your guitar playing days are over.” Then a friend of mine bought me a record by jazz guitarist Django Reinhardt and told me to have a listen. I told him I thought he was great. Then my friend said Django was only able to use two of his fingers. It started me thinking, well, if he was able to do it, I’m gonna have go. And that’s what started me on my way.

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.

You can keep up with it all and track his dates with all the various projects at his website here,

On a personal note, I met Grahame when he and his brother Brian were two-head kids playing catch backstage at Phil and Friends shows around 2000 and have watched him grow into an excellent guitarist and bandleader and now have the courage to pick up his father’s basses to boot. I got to know Grahame and his lovely wife better over a few days in Barcelona circa 2018.

Enjoy the interview, and go check out Grahame with one of his many projects.

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.

To mark this sad but important anniversary, I am turning to an outside writer - Mike Lustig. Mike is a guitarist whose band Janata actually opened the two Eric Clapton -SRV - Robert Cray shows at Alpine Valley, August 26 and 27, 1990. His story about the experience originally ran on NJArts.net, a site run by Mike’s brother, Jay, which I love and support. I am honored to share the story with you here.

BY MIKE LUSTIG

Thirty six years ago today, Stevie Ray Vaughan died in a helicopter crash after a concert at Alpine Valley, a large amphitheater in Wisconsin. I don’t talk about it much, because I was at that concert, playing in the band that opened the show. Most times when it comes up, it is a friend who asks me to talk about it, to tell someone else the story. It inevitably comes out sounding like bragging, and the listener usually either reacts with awe or indifference, both of which feel odd to me. Mostly, I see it as an ultimately sad story that I witnessed, and I don’t enjoy making light conversation about this kind of tragedy. However, on the 25th anniversary of the tragedy in 2015, I felt like writing about my memories of the event, and I am happy for Alan to share them again today.

My band at the time was called Janata. I had just turned 21; we were based in Bergen County, NJ and had had a record out for about five months on the Mercury label. We’d had a lot of success at such a young age. At this point, in August 1990, we already toured with Edie Brickell, The Kinks, Southside Johnny and Graham Parker, and played individual shows opening for legends like Lonnie Mack. We had a song called “The River” getting played on the radio, and we had quickly grown accustomed to playing opening act slots on high profile shows. So when my manager called me one day to tell me we’d be opening up for Eric Clapton, Stevie Ray Vaughan and Robert Cray in a couple weeks, I was excited, but not surprised. It was par for the course. Still, it was a giant show and I was thrilled to be a last-minute addition.

I should say up front that the whole reason we got this show in the first place was that our booking agent was Bobby Brooks, who was also Clapton’s booking agent. He basically gifted us this show, trying to help us out with yet another high profile appearance. It was so last minute that our band’s name wasn’t on the ticket, or the posters, and nobody outside of our friends and fans in New Jersey knew we would be there.

Unfortunately, Bobby died that night in the same helicopter as Stevie Ray. I talked to him minutes before he boarded, and remember him telling me he was exhausted and couldn’t wait to get to his bed in Chicago. I think of that often. I didn’t know him well, but it’s just one of those moments where you learn how unpredictable our lives can be.

The cover of Janata’s self-titled 1990 album. Mike Lustig is at top, right.

The good memories I have of these two concerts, on Aug. 25 and 26, are plentiful. (The accident occurred after the second show, at about 1 a.m. Aug. 27.) On the first night I remember Jeff Healey coming out and playing with Clapton and absolutely killing the guitar solo on “Sunshine of Your Love.” I remember seeing Bonnie Raitt bouncing around backstage talking to everybody, but not going out to sing, which I had hoped would happen. I remember playing our set, of course. Stepping out to a half-empty gargantuan amphitheater and watching it fill up as we did our 30 minutes.

Share

But my favorite memory of that first day involved Stevie Ray Vaughan. It’s one of my favorite memories in my life, actually. We had just arrived and were in the backstage area. There were trailers set up, and some catering, and we were feeling pretty excited to get out there and do our soundcheck. As I wandered around I turned a corner, and 10 feet away Stevie Ray was talking to a friend. It was the first time I saw him, and I couldn’t help but stare. Coincidentally, as they were checking the P.A. out front, the soundman was playing the Jimi Hendrix version of “Voodoo Chile,” which Stevie had recorded and used as a showstopper in his set for years. This, of course, wasn’t lost on me, and I stared at Stevie Ray, watching for any reaction to the Hendrix music being blared over the PA, but he just talked to his friend, seemingly ignoring it.

The song kept going and it got to the first guitar solo. Stevie keeps talking. But then, there is a part in that guitar solo where it hits a climax with a very high note bent a whole step — kind of the pinnacle moment of that solo. And when it hit, Stevie Ray instantly played the single greatest air guitar riff I have ever seen anyone do. He windmilled like Pete Townshend and threw his arm up in the air, holding his hand in the air and dramatically shaking it along with this piercing high note like he was playing to 50,000 fans, and then dropped right back into his conversation. It was epic. I watched him transform from the biggest young blues star in the world to a 12-year-old Hendrix fan playing air guitar in his bedroom. It was one of the best musical moments I’ve ever witnessed.

Subscribe now

A poster advertising the concerts.

By the second night I had talked to nobody famous. It had become standard for me. After more than 20 shows with The Kinks, I didn’t meet Ray or Dave Davies until the final night. I never talked to Lonnie Mack. I never talked to Edie Brickell. My whole band was great at being invisible to famous people. So, on this second day I made it a point to talk to everyone. I tapped Eric Clapton on the back and introduced myself. I introduced myself to Stevie Ray, and he was talkative and humble and friendly.

I stood on the side of the stage smoking cigarettes and wondering how I could introduce myself to Buddy Guy, who had shown up unannounced, and before I knew it he approached me and asked for a cigarette. As I fed him as many cigarettes as he wanted, we talked for almost an hour about Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters, Chess Records … It was fantastic, and I felt as connected as possible to that romantic world of the 1950s Chicago blues scene that I had fantasized about for so long.

Everything about that night was perfect, until it wasn’t. An incredibly heavy fog had descended on the venue around when the encores started. Buddy Guy and Jimmie Vaughan had joined in onstage, and they played “Sweet Home Chicago.” I had snuck out into the crowd and joined my friend Amy in the seats I had left for her (she made the drive from New Jersey just to be there). We watched the encore, I said goodbye to her and went backstage. There was talk of transportation delays getting back to our hotel because of the fog. The van reserved for us might have had to be used for the bigger acts first if the helicopters couldn’t fly in the fog. But ultimately, and sadly, they decided it was safe to fly. I said goodbye to Bobby Brooks, and he walked off towards the helicopters.

The most profound memory I have of the whole experience happened shortly after they took off. The helicopter, the world would later learn, crashed into a small ski hill minutes after taking off, just a short distance from the venue. Everyone was killed instantly. The thing I remember was hanging around backstage and noticing Jimmie Vaughan sitting at a table talking to a friend. He looked tired, and for some reason he looked a little sad. He had no idea that his brother was already gone, but for some reason as I looked at him I remember thinking he looked broken. It still bothers me to this day. The idea that he was sitting there so innocent and fragile, and utterly unaware that his brother lay dead such a short distance away.

Mike Lustig is a guitarist who has played in the bands Ruth Ruth, Janata, Ultra V and the Johnny Powers 3. He owns SOMA Sounds, a great vinyl store in Maplewood, NJ.

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.

The two such times I remember best were once on his bus when he was watching The X Files as we spoke about the new additions of Jack Pearson and Oteil Burbridge. Jack was sitting across from us, as we began the interview while he continued to watch the show, speaking haltingly until commercial breaks when he turned his full attention toward out conversation. Finally. he proclaimed, “I wish they would just do it already!” (I recently found that interview and will run it in full up here soon.)

The other memorable time was when I interviewed Gregg late at night in a Chicago hotel room, which was one of the deepest, most intimate conversations we ever had. When I got to the room, he was on his bed, wife Stacey sleeping next to him, dog curled up on his lap, watching Steven Spielberg’s 1974 feature film debut The Sugarland Express. That was he first collaboration between Spielberg and composer John Williams, who has scored almost all of Spielberg’s films. Williams has been a huge part of Spielberg’s filmography, something which Gregg understood very well.

“Listen to that score!” he exclaimed. “It makes the damn movie, which has so little dialogue.”

Stacey thrashed around a little, which made the situation a tad uncomfortable and probably nudged Gregg to finally get up, turn the volume down and move with me to the other side of the room, where an alcove, with large windows overlooking downtown Chicago held two chairs and we got down tot he interview. Before we started in earnest, we had the following conversation about film soundtracks.

SPECIAL, LIMITED-TIME OFFER - THIS SIGNED JAIMOE POSTER TO NEW PAID SUBSCRIBERS.

Read more

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.

When we did this interview, Billy uttered one of my favorite lines: ”Being a rock star in the 70s was wall-to-wall craziness without any threat of penalty.”

From the official announcement: Frank Beard was ZZ Top’s drummer for all of the band’s 56 years. He was in hospice care when he passed away at his ranch in Richmond, TX with family members at his side. Beard, together with guitarist Billy Gibbons and bassist Dusty Hill were one of music’s most enduring line-ups continuing until 2021 when Hill’s passing saw Elwood Francis join the band.

It was Frank Beard who, in the waning days of 1969, suggested to Billy Gibbons – then a frontman in search of a rhythm section – to audition Dusty Hill. Beard had played with Hill previously in a Dallas-based band called American Blues, and in The Warlocks, Hustlers and Cellar Dwellers before that. The three got together at Gibbons’ Houston home and proceeded to jam non-stop for three hours.

“It was a blues in D, a shuffle,” recalls Gibbons, “and we just didn’t want to stop . . . and we didn’t for the next five or six decades.” This trio played its first show before a paying audience at the Knights of Columbus Hall in Beaumont, TX on February 10, 1970. They went on to a recording career that included eleven gold albums (seven of which were certified platinum), plus two platinum video albums. The band’s epochal Eliminator album also achieved Diamond status, in recognition of more than ten million copies sold.

Limited time offer - paid annual subs will receive one of these signed Jaimoe/Friends of the Brothers posters.

Billy Gibbons on some of the band’s landmark recordings.

“LA GRANGE” - Tres Hombres (1973)

“That is straight guitar into amp: a 1955 Strat with a stop tailpiece through a 1969 Marshall Super Lead 100. That fuzz sound in the lead and in the front and back end of the composition is just pure tube distortion. Pickup-setting differentials account for the different tones. The opening part was played on what we used to call ‘the mystery setting’ in the dark days before the existence of the five-way toggle switch, when finding that perfect ’tweener [in-between setting of a three-way pickup selector] required dedication.

“That Marshall amp, which was a trusted friend through the first six records, was an import brought over by Jeff Beck’s at-the-time tech. I had four of those babies, and they were my main road amps for years. I ran them through cabinets with those [Celestion] Greenback speakers. They still retain a distinctive, rich, enjoyable tone and are well worth owning. I must, however, advise anyone fortunate enough to find one to beware of the variable power plugs. The 220[-volt] setting doesn’t work very well outside of the 220 countries, as I can tell you from experience. We had more than a few paper-clip nights over the years [due to blown fuses].”

I like this relatively recent version of “La Grange” for its simple studio setup and lack of staging or effects. You can really get a sense of the band as three guys playing instruments and check out Frank’s drumming.

Subscribe now

“TUSH” - Fandango! (1975)

“The first three albums were recorded exclusively at the Robin Hood Studios outside of Dallas, and the special sound that always seemed to be accessible there was due in part to the fact that the equipment was nailed to the floor and nothing ever moved so you could always count on a sound. Quite a good sound, I must say.

“‘Tush’ was Pearly Gates, my beloved Les Paul, played through the same Marshall Super Lead, and we sure enough did stop and enjoy the G tuning for the composition’s slide element. This song was largely straight guitar to amp, but I also utilized a real odd, esoteric device called the Cooper Time Cube, which was a simplistic application of the complex world of physics. In a small rack-mounted can sits a small speaker, right up next to maybe 50 feet of one-inch rubber tubing, which is coiled, spring-like. The sound waves actually take longer to travel, having to make these corners, creating a type of delay which is quite unlike the familiar sound of a digital delay. That was a real left-field piece of gear which they had—and still have, I might add— in that studio. Some of the guitar sounds that appear to be doubled on the early albums are actually the byproduct of that oddball Cooper Time Cube.

Share

“I’M BAD, I’M NATIONWIDE” - Deguello (1979)

“We wrote this about the great Texas bluesman Joey Long, a Gulf Coast lead-guitar picker who appeared on a great number of wonderful records by the likes of Slim Harpo and Barbara Lynn. He played on Lynn’s great hit record ‘We Got a Good Thing Going,’ which was covered by the Stones, and which was really one of the important recordings that shaped my understanding of where it was I wanted to go with my life. It was good. And so was he.

“Joey loaned me a multi-stringed mandolin- like instrument from Parral, Mexico, and I put it to good use on ‘Nationwide.’ If you listen closely, you can hear closemiked mandolin-sounding rhythm accompaniment. The lead track was played on a custom-made, half-size, real short-scaled guitar tuned to G. It was actually standard tuning cranked up a minor third, which remained quite playable thanks to the guitar’s short scale.

“The song’s tail end alternates between three distinct effects created by two pedals: an Echoplex doubler and a Maestro octave box alternating every third bar between having the octave up and the octave down. The song also contains some Hohner Clavinet, which was owned by one of our famous Memphis pals, Carlos De Marlos. It’s such an interesting sound that it ignited Dusty’s [Hill, bassist] interest in learning some keyboard skills, and it was he who subsequently handled all the tickling of the ivories.”

Subscribe now

“CHEAP SUNGLASSES” Deguello (1979)

“This song was actually written during a trip from the Gulf Coast up to Austin, Texas. A bright spot of creativity flared as we were passing the hamlet of La Grange, and I recited all three verses of ‘Cheap Sunglasses’ within the space of 20 miles. And that’s the way they stayed. Though that may sound simplistic, the lyrics speak for themselves. ‘Simplistic’ is indeed a word which may come to the minds of some.

“The lead track was performed on a fake Fender guitar, which I used for the wiggle stick—there is a little dive bomb in the solo section. I played it through a Marshall Major, a short-lived 200-watt beast, which had one blown tube. Hence the rather bulbous, rotund sound. There’s also a little bit of digital delay for that Bo Diddley impersonation at the tail out, and a Maestro Ring Modulator, which produces the strange tag to each verse. It appears three times, and it’s a pretty funny sound. That is one insane effect put to good use.”

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.

The other night, Ritchie Blackmore walked out on stage at Jones Beach and joined Deep Purple, the band he helped found in 1968, for the first time in 33 years. And he played their most famous song, the riff that every guitarist had to learn for decades - “Smoke On The water.” A one-song, one-time only reunion that sounded great. (See below.)

Blackmore is a actually a towering figure in the history of guitar, one of the fathers of both prog rock and heavy metal in my estimation. He has always been an elusive figure, doing very few interviews. For many years he largely gave up playing electric guitar in favor of acoustic in his folk-rock, Renaissance styled Blackmore’s Night, performing with his wife Candice Night. I interviewed Blackmore in 2004 for Guitar World’s Dear Guitar Hero feature, which used reader-submitted questions. I did a lot of these, and while others just made up questions and names, I solicited and mostly used actual reader quesions, as I think I did here. It seemed like a good time to share!

I believe you were the first person to scallop your guitar neck. What inspired you to do so? And do you anything similar to your acoustic guitars? -Steve Athey

I first did this when I was 18 after playing an old guitar whose neck was so pitted that it had a scalloped effect. I liked it so much that I sandpapered down the wood down between my frets, and I loved the results. The scallop simply makes it easier to hold a bent note because the string does not get caught up. I also find that I have more control over the vibrato with a gouged-out piece of wood there. My acoustics are custom-made by a few small luthiers and I have had some of them scalloped, though it is less essential because I rely on trills more than bends on the acoustic.

You are a virtuoso guitarist, yet you are most associated with “Smoke on the Water”, one of the all time simplest -- and coolest -- riffs. Are you surprised that has had such a lasting impact? -Carmen Davis

Yes and no. I am kind of surprised that so many people jumped on that when there so many other riffs that I thought were better, but it pays the bills, so I don’t mind. And I was trying to write something simple. When I first started writing music, I listened to people like Pete Townshend and marveled at how simple and catchy he made his music. I was following that route. Writing something banal but catchy is an art in itself, often more difficult than writing a complex piece with many parts.

I have long marveled at your ability to keep your Strats in tune given your style of heavy bending and tremolo dives. Do you have any tips or tricks you could share?

-J. Todd

Indeed I do. Leo Fender made Stratocasters with an extreme angle for the tailpiece – nearly 45 degrees, I believe -- and setting it as such makes all the difference. If done so with the right amount of springs it will always return to being perfectly in tune. I disbelieved this until the guy who fixed my guitars showed me. He would correct that about once every six months and it was amazing. In fact, I called Fender about it and they knew absolutely nothing about it. They just assumed that tremolo arms went out of tune.

Does it anger you that Yngwie made the inclusion of classical music into rock look ridiculous? -Justin Davis

No, not at all. Yngwie is a very good player. He is much better than people credit him for. I think his wardrobe might bother me more than his playing.

I always loved the way the organ and guitar solos meshed in Deep Purple, especially on “Burn.” How closely did you and Jon Lord work out the ideas on the solos? -John Gister

We worked very closely because we generally went into a song understanding we would each take a solo. What we generally did was each write out the progressions we wanted to solo over and then show them to each other. On “Burn” we sort of swapped solos actually, because I was having a very hard time with the progression I had written myself, but Jon liked it. So he took it over for his solo and I wrote a new one for myself.

Share

Your rock playing always had a jazzy feel in the way it is laidback but in the pocket. What jazz players influenced your playing and/or phrasing? -Dustin Ehrlich

Actually, though I went through a jazz period when I was about 15 centered around Wes Montgomery and the amazing Django Reinhardt, I came out of it quite quickly and I really don’t like jazz. I was always more into classical, country and renaissance music. I do love jazz drummers, though, and prefer to play with them than rock drummers because they have a lighter touch and subtler feel.

You had such a great rock sound. What were playing through on Machine Head?

-Michael Curry

I was using a 200-watt Marshall with a Treble Booster, probably a Hornby Skewes, but I can’t say for sure which Strat I was playing. For one thing, I used to change the necks on my guitars often because I might like the feel but not the sound. I also glued necks in place so they couldn’t move.

For such a seemingly simple riff, people sure do play “Smoke on the Water” different ways. So what is correct -- power chords or single note passes? -John Paradis

It’s two notes picked at the same time, using fingers rather than a pick and it sounds wrong when strummed as a chord or picked with all downstrokes. The bass part of the riff is plucked downward with the thumb while the finger is pulling up at the same time. I pick the fourth and fifth strings together on the fifth fret, then I pick the third and fourth strings on the third fret. The next shape is on the same two strings on the fifth fret, then the semi tone above that and then back to the first two shapes.

It has been said that you were outside of your body when soloing in Deep Purple and Rainbow. Were you in fact astro-projecting or did you just practice a lot?

-Kevin Potts

I always practiced a lot but I also believe that most musicians enter a state similar to astro projecting when they are really deep in thought. You’re not flying around the room, but I think you are mentally elevated and in that sense beyond your body.

Is your guitar tuned standard or down a half step? -James Bettis

I always tuned my electrics to standard pitch, in part because I played with keyboardists. I find, however that the acoustic guitar screams a l little bit when tuned to concert pitch, so I prefer to be a semi tone under.

What has been the one thing in your rig that has remained the same through all the years and changes in your sound? -Sean Oster

The tape recorder, which I picked up around my house and converted into a preamp in ’72. We’ve tried to emulate that sound with a million different pieces of gear, none of which sounded right. So I’ve carted around this big tape recorder that is falling apart. Finally, some German guy just made me a little box, which seems to replicate the sound – it flattens it and fattens it up without fuzzing it up. That is now my backup and one of these days may actually replace the irreplaceable.

You once categorically stated that, “Eric Clapton is not a very good guitar player.” Why would you say that—especially since he gave you your first Stratocaster?

-Marlon Cortes

Those were not my exact words and I regret that what I said came across as a putdown, which is not how I meant it. Eric is very good but it’s amazing how so many other guitarists are just forgotten about or never known and that’s the point I was trying to make – that there are a lot of other brilliant guitarists out there. Eric has done a lot for the guitar, especially with some of his work with Cream, and he certainly did a lot for me by turning me on to Strats as well as Clifford Essex strings.

He indirectly gave me my first Strat -- he gave it to his roadie, who sold it to me. And in ’68 when Deep Purple supported Cream at the Forum in Los Angeles -- with Jimi Hendrix and George Harrison in the first row -- I asked him backstage what kind of strings he used because I loved his sound.

Am I crazy to think that Jimi Hendrix is overrated? His blues-based playing could not hold a candle to your work. -James Howard

You are not crazy but you are wrong, though I understand what you are getting at. Although I loved Hendrix’s playing I could see the limitations. He was the best in terms of the overwhelming feel of his playing, arrangements and riffs, and the way his guitar and voice were as one. But from a technical point of view it wasn’t overwhelming and I think Robert Fripp thought the same.

I loved listening to Hendrix play but there were not these incredibly fast runs one hears today. But he didn’t need that because he was an extension of the guitar and it was amazing how he would just make the thing sing. It was a very different approach and it really made me pause because I was focused on technical players like Chet Atkins, Les Paul and Speedy Bryant. When Hendrix came along, I thought, “What is happening here?”

What led you to became fascinated with classical chord progressions and harmonies? Did any particular composers excite you? -Alan Jones

The main composer who inspired me was obviously Bach, who had a rock and roll sound on some of his organ pieces. The guys who turned me onto the concept were the guitarists Joe Moretti and Tony Harvey of Nero and the Gladiators. I saw this unbelievable band at a community center when I was 15 and was blown away by. They did “In the Hall of the Mountain Kings” and other classical pieces and it really grabbed me. I started fiddling with classical pieces right then.

What is your most recent Blackmore’s Night release? And will you ever make it to the West Coast? Please. -Rita McKinney

In fact, we’re coming this winter for the first time. We’re looking at vineyards and other interesting out door venues, which we prefer to rock clubs. Our most recent release is a compilation, Beyond the Sunset, which we put together largely for people to play at their weddings, since we get such requests so often. Have a look at my website for more information on both issues: blackmoresnight.com

Subscribe now

Did any of you guys ever kick Frank Zappa’s ass for running away from the fire in Switzerland? -Ample Al

No, we didn’t. Though it was funny how he told the audience to calm down then proceeded to jump out the window.

You’ve just woken up and found yourself in the middle of the 16th Century: Who’s the first person you would want to jam with and would you be able to find musical currency? -Remi Audy

My favorite composer is Tillman Susato so I would hunt him down in Antwerp in the 1530s. He was a music publisher as well as a musician so he would have lots of Flemish pageantry style music. I’m not a good reader so it might be a little tricky to play immediately but I would pick it up by ear and have a grand old time.

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.

At the time, Jambands.com did a fantastic roundup of other musicians talking about Houser when he passed, including our old friend Col. Bruce Hampton, who said, “there was probably no better spirit anywhere.”

Also: I shared my 2003 GW feature on the post-Mikey panic here.

Michael Houser, January 6, 1962 - August 10, 2002

Here’s my obituary, exactly was it published in Guitar World, 2002.

Widespread Panic guitarist Michael “Mikey” Houser died at his home in Athens, Georgia, on August 10. The cause was pancreatic cancer. Houser performed with the band until July 2 when he returned home to be with his family.

Panic was formed by Houser, singer/guitarist John Bell and bassist Dave Schools in the early 80s while all three were students at the University of Georgia. They released their first album in 1988 and built a grassroots following with incessant touring throughout the Southeast. Panic was at the forefront of a new generation of jam bands, appearing with Phish and Blues Traveler on the initial HORDE tours in 1992 and ‘93 and eventually becoming one of the country’s most successful performing outfits.

Widespread has always had an earthier, more Southern tinged approach than most of their peers, thanks in large part to Houser’s biting, blues-inflected lead playing. The guitarist jokingly bragged that in high school he was famous as “the guy who could play the entire ‘Freebird’ solo” and his hard-edged, Skynyrd-influenced lead playing helped give Panic a direct, approachable sound.

Speaking to Guitar World last year, Houser described the magical feeling of a great jam. “On the good nights, we can all find our way around each other with our eyes shut,” he said. “When it’s like that, you’re not even aware of time passing. You just walk on stage and feel great and the next thing you know you’re walking off.”

Widespread Panic will continue on, though they have not announced a replacement for Houser.

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.

Ghalia Volt , who now live sin New Orleans, has a new album. Burn The House Down on Ruf Records. It was produced by JD Simo and recorded in Nashville, and pushes her sound further. She has a punk energy and swagger to her blues that took me back to my love of psychobilly bands like The Cramps and the Meteors. I find her totally enthralling and wanted to learn mote. I hope you all find it interesting as well. There’s a part 2 of the interview coming where Ghalia gave me a tour of her guitars.

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.

I interviewed Blow By Blow authors Brad Tolinski and Chris Gill about their Jeff Beck biography at the New York book launch a few weeks ago and wanted to share it with you here. Brad and Chris are both Guitar World mates, and Brad is the guy who hired me off the streets as Managing Editor in 1991 and changed my life. He has remained a close friend and trusted adviser.

Blow by Blow is a great book, and any fan of Jeff Beck’s should read it. You will understand the man and the musi better. The Amazon link is right here, but of course you can get it anywhere books are sold and supporting your local retailer is always a good idea!

And you don’t have to take my word for it. There’s a rave review in The Wall Street Journal right here. Reviewer David Kirby writes:

As the chapters accumulate, the reader gains a sense of the Jeff Beck that the authors describe as part genius, part unknowable eccentric. The ultimate guitarist’s guitarist, Beck reshaped the sound of guitar music without ever chasing mainstream commercial fame. He didn’t like composing radio hooks or fronting a traditional band. Instead, he became the musician other musicians watched. His perfectionism was his best friend and worst enemy: One source remembers him playing to a crowd of 60,000 and receiving a standing ovation, only to come off stage and say, “I suck.”

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.

In 2009 I was pretty fresh back from China and just easing back into writing for Guitar World, which had been my primary work home since 1991. I thought I was maybe done with that before Brad Tolinski asked me if I wanted to interview Derek Trucks about his upcoming album. Well, why would I say no to that? Then, I was writing a cover story about the Allman Brothers Band’s 40th anniversary run at the Beacon, a story that was the launching pad for One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band.

And just like that, I was bak in. In October, 2009, I flew to Peoria, Illinois to join up with Joe Bonamassa for a couple of days on the road and what I think was his first big feature in the magazine. We had been writing about “Smoking Joe” since he was a 14-year-old prodigy from upstate New York and he even showed up and jammed at one of our mid-90s Christmas parties. Bu the had stepped up his career and we were stepping up the coverage.

I quickly realized that on day two of my journey with Joe we would be in Chicago and Gov’t Mule were playing at the Riviera Theatre while Joe was headlining the Vic Theatre, just a few miles away. I let Warren know that I was going to be in town and I would make it up for however much of the Mule show I could make, and I explained the situation. I suggested bringing Joe by and Warren told me to ask him if he wanted to sit in. He did, and the wheels were in motion. (At least that’s how I remember the order of things.)

Joe and Warren were old friends, with JB having recorded WH’s “If Heartaches Were Nickels” in 2000, but they had not spoken in several years, and both were delighted to reconnect. After Joe’s soundcheck at the Vic, he and I jumped in a runner’s van and headed up to the Riv, where Mule was soundchecking, and they worked out two songs to play together - “Feel Like Breaking Up Somebody’s Home” and “Sco-Mule,” which I think Joe was learning on the spot.

The rehearsal was great, and I filmed it from the photo pit, where I was determined to return a few hours later to capture the real thing. After Joe’s excellent show, we ran out the back door while the crowd was still stomping their feet and into a waiting van, now joined by my attorney Big Art, who immediately began redirecting the young driver on better routes to avoid traffic.

We arrived at the Riviera’s stage door, Brian Farmer grabbed Joe’s guitar to get it ready, and we all waited for him to come out. Before he did, I decamped for the photo pit, where I was waiting with my Canon for the two songs that followed.

Here is Joe on “Feel Like Breaking Somebody’s Home”

Subscribe now

And then on “Sco Mule”

And here’s Joe doing “If Heartaches Were Nickels” with an orchestra.

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Share

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.

Dixon was a bass player who played on countless classic Chess sides by Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf and many others. But his importance was a talent scout, producer and particularly composer. He wrote dozens of blues classics, that defined the careers and catalogs of Muddy (“Hoochie Coochie Man,”) Wolf (“Spoonful”), Little Walter (“My Babe”), Koko Taylor (“Wang Dang Doodle”), Otis Rush (“I Can’t Quit You Baby”) and so many others. And most of the songs I chose here could be replaced by several others.

Dixon in many ways defined the Chess sound and in doing so, he defined the sound of rock and roll. His songs were covered by a who’s who of British and American artists, from the Rolling Stones (“Little Red Rooster” and many others) and Cream (“Spoonful”) to The Doors (“Back Door Man”) and Allman Brothers (“Hoochie Coochie Man,” “The Same Thing”). Some artists, notably Led Zeppelin just took songwriting credits for themselves. (They eventually did pay up and add Dixon as a writer to “Whole Lotta Love” in 1999. Story here.)

Of course, Dixon himself borrowed liberally from old folk songs. “Spoonful,” for instance, is loosely based on "A Spoonful Blues,"a song recorded in 1929 by Charley Patton, who may well have heard it from someone else.

Below are a few of his greatest songs, and the thoughts of Bob Weir, who wrote “Eternity” with Willie.

Bob Weir on “Eternity” (co-written with Willie Dixon) Never recorded on a studio album. Played by GD and appeared on So Many Roads: 1965-1995

“I went to see Willie Dixon when he played a club near my house and he called me up to jam and, of course I had a great time. Then I asked him if he might like to work on a song. We got together in a studio in West Hollywood and kicked some ideas around and agreed to regroup the next day in my hotel room. I had the song’s signature descending riff, which I wrote based on him telling me, ‘Don’t be going to any of them jazz chords.’ He wanted to step slightly out of his bag, which is why he wanted to work with me, but he didn’t want to step too far, so I came up with this Louis Jordan jump blues style pattern. He slowed it down and we started developing it, and he came up with a chorus and got me singing it with him singing the harmony part. Then we went to separate corners to hammer out our parts and he was jotting down words really fast.

“He handed me this piece of paper, filled with simplistic, almost child-like writing and I was really disappointed. He said, ‘Sing it out loud’ so I started and after two verses and choruses of thinking it rather lame, the eloquent simplicity of the words hit me and my jaw just dropped. I think he read everything I was thinking because he just started laughing and said, ‘That’s the wisdom of the blues.’ That was a big moment for this boy because as far as I’m concerned Willie Dixon was a living saint. I thought that before I met him, and I had every single suspicion confirmed from knowing him for a few years.”

Share

“Spoonful”

Otis Rush doing “I Can’t Quit You Baby” is one of the most powerful blues recordings ever, IMHO.

One of Albert Collins final performances was playing “The Same Thing” with the Allman Brothers Band.

“I Just Want to Make Love to You” by Muddy Waters

“Back Door Man”

“I Ain’t Superstitious” by Howlin’ Wolf

“My Babe” by Little Walter

“Wang Dang Doodle” by Koko Taylor

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.

There’s no better way to describe that makes a magic show happen. There is no formula, plan or guarantees. If there was, every show would be magical.

Monday night at City Winery New York, magic happened when Jaimoe took the stage with Friends of the Brothers. We raised the spirits, created the vibe, rode the wave, felt the love, made more love.

I’m in the band. I was on stage. I am by definition an unreliable narrator. That’s all true, but I know what happened. You can see it in the pictures of all us smiling so widely. Hear it in the crowd reaction. Ask anyone who was there. Watch the videos and hope to feel the vibes.

Writing this feels very vulnerable. But as my friend Maryanne Asta, who was manning our merch table said when I told her that, “It was definitely magic. And magic feels fragile.”

Subscribe now

Having Jaimoe on stage with us is inherently special. If he did nothing but walk out and wave at the crowd and give us his blessing and seal of approval it would be huge. What more could an homage band want? What we do works because we play the catalog with vigor. It is alive and breathing, not a museum piece to be ossified, but a template to be celebrated. And when I asked Jaimoe two years ago why he wanted to play with us, he said, “Because you motherfuckers play those songs like you wrote them!”

But Jaimoe did much more than just be there. He sat down on his new old Gretsch drum kit, picked up the monster tree trunk sticks and played his ass off. He played with passion, vigor, intent, humor. He lit a fire that we all caught and everything else faded away. At 82, he is not only playing great technically but with a love of music that is absolutely infectious.

Here’s the drum trio >bass solo > end of IMOER if you think I am exaggerating. This was the next-to-last song in a 2:15 set, of which he only sat out one tune. You think Lee Finkelstein and Dave Diamond were having fun playing with the master?

Jaimoe and I are working on his memoir together. We are speaking for hours every week and I am spending many more hours immersed in his story on my screen. To suddenly be immersed in the story, to feel the history flowing out of him and through all of us, added a 5th dimension to an already out-of-body experience.

The thing about hitting the note is you enter the zone. Time stands still and nothing exists except the stage and what’s happening there. As Butch Trucks once told me, “It ends at the lip of the stage.” That’s not exactly right, though, because the crowd is a huge part of it. it’s more accurate to me to say nothing exists except the room you’re in. The energy, love, attention, emotion coming from the crowd is felt, received, returned. It’s a huge part of the equation.

All of us had a lot of friends in the house, including many people who made it feel more like a family reunion than just another gig. Dick Griffin, the trombone player who often played with the Allman Brothers Band and has been friends with Jaimoe since 1962. The legendary promoter Ron Delsener and booking agent Jonny Podell, who were responsible for most of the best shows you ever saw, drummer and percussionist Ricky Gordan, a Beacon backstage regular, Martin Lemansky, who worked at the Beacon for years, Kim Williams, everyone’s friend and favorite Georgia driver, brought Macon to the house. Jaimoe’s wife Catherine and daughter Cajai, my wife Rebecca and sons Jacob and Eli, our manager and longtime ABB agent CJ Strock and his son. Maryanne. Photographer Barry Goldenberg, who’s shot Jaimoe and the ABB for decades. What did all these people being there have to do with what happened? I don’t know, but it all adds up, and we were conjuring the spirits, feeling the ancestors.

And then Dick, who played with Jaimoe heroes like Rashaan Roland Kirk, Charles Mingus and Sun Ra, walked out and joined us for “Dreams,” a song perfectly suited for a jazz horn. As Jaimoe told me in the upcoming book, “‘Dreams’ is basically Coltrane’s ‘My Favorite Things’ with lyrics. I played the exact licks and fills on there that Jimmy Cobb played on Miles’ ‘All Blues.’”

Craig Privett, our monster bass player who has been performing for decades, said it was one of the most memorable gigs of his life. A friend took the photo below mid-song. You can’t fake that radiating joy. We all work all our lives, put in the 10,000 hours, preparing for these nights. It’s the payoff, in ways that are hard to explain but I think you’ll understand.

Ray Glenn, a hardcore ABB fan, posted this: “What a special NYC evening ! An Upper West Side Brothers vibe made its way downtown to City Winery’s main stage . Without Jaimoe, this band cooks . With Jaimoe supporting the back line this band reaches new heights .

Having legends Ron Delsener and Jonny Podell in the house to witness the show validates the importance of The Brothers to their own successful careers. My wife who is a tough critic and understanding of my passion for The Brothers saw the constant smile I displayed and really understood what it all meant to me . What a night!”

What a night!

We’re doing it again with Jaimoe August 7 at Infinity Hall in Hartford, CT. Can I guarantee the magic will be in the room? No, for all the reasons I just laid out. But I can guarantee that we are going to be laying it on the line and conjuring the spirits and that it would be great to have your help.

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Friends of The Brothers w/ Jaimoe
07-20-26 City Winery NYC
Statesboro Blues
Ain’t Wasting Time No More
Stand Back
Stormy Monday
Whipping Post - Jaimoe out, Mark Bell on drums
Midnight Rider
You Don’t Love Me
Blue Sky - Lee Finkelstein out, Steve Finkelstein, drums
Dreams - w/ guest Dick Griffin, trombone
In Memory Of Elizabeth Reed> Drums > Bass > IMOER
One Way Out

Band: Junior Mack (gtr, vox) Andy Aledort (gtr, vox), Alan Paul (acoustic gtr), Mike Katzman (keys, vox), Craig Privett (bass), Lee Finkelstein (drums), Dave Diamond (drums)

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.

I have known Jay Blakesberg for decades, working on many Guitar World assignments together. We are old dogs, and it’s always a pleasure to collaborate. I was really happy that I was able to attend the opening. The exhibit features the work of photographers whose portfolios Jay and his daughter Ricki have purchased as part of their excellent Retro Photo Archive, including my bestie Kirk West.

An abridged press release reads “The David Kordansky Gallery is pleased to present An American Beauty: Grateful Dead 1965–1995, an exhibition of photographs of the iconic band curated by Ricki Blakesberg and Jay Blakesberg. The exhibition is on view in New York at 520 W. 20th St. through August 7, 2026.

An American Beauty: Grateful Dead 1965–1995 features twenty-one large-scale and more than two dozen smaller photographic prints documenting all eras of the Grateful Dead experience. The exhibition centers on the work of Grateful Dead photographers Jay Blakesberg, Adrian Boot, Suki Coughlin, Greg Gaar, Andy Leonard, Rosie McGee, Bob Minkin, Ron Rakow, Jon Sievert, Elizabeth Sunflower, and Kirk West who documented the Dead from its early days in the Haight-Ashbury through the Jerry Garcia years.”

Jay took me on a video tour of the exhibit:

I was thrilled to see one of Kirk’s great shots hanging in glorious, large-scale form. I think it is the ultimate photo of the Wall of Sound.

It was a rather amazing experience to meet former Dead co-manager Ron Rakow, who gave me a tour of some of his excellent photos. Like Twiggs Lyndon and Kirk with the ABB, Rakow was an insider with a great eye and a great camera. He took photos no one else could have been in position to snap.

Subscribe now

It was really amazing to meet Ron, who is a Grade A character who has always fascinated me. He was the Wall Street guy who loaned the Dead money to buy gear and eventually became a manager and started the Dead’s record labels.

WIKIPEDIA: “In March 1972, Ron came up with the idea for Grateful Dead Records and Round Records and worked with Jerry Garcia to develop the business plan known as the 'So What Papers'. In July 1972, he was invited to Bill Kreutzmann's house to present the initial idea to the band. In April 1973, the plan was finally approved and Grateful Dead Records and Round Records was born. The labels went on to produce four of the bands records between 1973-1976.”

That is a rather bloodless description of a fascinating character. I highly recommend this excellent edition of Jesse Jarnow’s always great Good Ol’ Grateful Deadcast. I promise you it is 90 minutes well spent. The core subject is Rakow’s trial in front of the Hell’s Angels on the charges of stealing from the Dead. Just trust me on this.

Here’s Ron discussing this photo.

If you’re in New York this summer, go see the exhibit! And come see Jaimoe with Friends of the Brothers!

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.

I think you can tell that we know each other pretty well and speak with some ease. Thanks to Derek, Ken and Andy for facilitating sharing this peak behind the curtain of an article.

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Ou…

Read more

The Allman Brothers Band’s 1971 double album At Fillmore East is often and rightly proclaimed rock’s greatest live release. Fifty years on, it still sounds fresh, inspired and utterly original. It is the gold standard of blues-based rock and roll, but it’s easy to lose sight of what a radical album At Fillmore East really was.

It took a lot of guts for the Allmans and their record label to release a two-LP live album as their third release. After all, when it came out in July 1971, the band was something of a commercial flop.

Although they drew raves for their marathon live shows that combined the Grateful Dead’s go-anywhere jam ethos with a far superior musical precision, their first two releases caused barely a ripple in the marketplace. The band’s self-titled 1969 debut sold fewer than 35,000 copies, and the following year’s Idlewild South did only marginally better despite two singles, “Midnight Rider” and “Revival.” The band struggled to understand why.

“When the first record came out at number 200 with an anchor and dropped off the face of the earth, my brother and I did not get discouraged,” Gregg Allman recalled, a few years before his death in 2017. “But I thought Idlewild South was a much better record, and when that died on the vine, I thought, Damn, maybe we were wrong about this group.”

But the lackluster sales didn’t match the increasingly large and rabid crowds the band drew on its relentlessly paced tours. Fans loved the Allman Brothers’ rare combination of blues, jazz, rock and country, and their willingness to play until somebody pulled the plug. Finally, it dawned on the band and its management that a live album was the only way to capture the group’s real essence.

What resulted was a recording of two shows at New York City’s famed Fillmore East, an album that still stands as a testament to a great band at the peak of its power. Sadly, it would prove to be the final record completed by guitarist Duane Allman, who died shortly after its release. As such, it has become an epitaph for both him and the Allman Brothers Band ‘Mark 1’.

“That album captured the band in all their glory,” producer Tom Dowd said in a 1998 interview. Dowd, who died in 2002, was behind the boards for nearly a dozen Allman Brothers albums, including At Fillmore East, and worked with everyone from John Coltrane and Ray Charles to Cream and Lynyrd Skynyrd.

“The Allmans have always had a perpetual swing sensation that is unique in rock. They swing like they’re playing jazz when they play things that are tangential to the blues, and even when they play heavy rock. They’re never vertical but always going forward, and it’s always a groove.”

Certainly, the improvisation and length of the tunes on At Fillmore East was more similar to jazz than rock, with just seven songs spread over four vinyl sides, capturing the Allmans in all their bluesy, sonic fury. “You Don’t Love Me” and “Whipping Post” both occupied full album sides, while “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” clocked in at 13 minutes.

Still, from the clarion slide guitar of “Statesboro Blues” that opens the album to the booming timpani roll of “Whipping Post” that closes it, there is nary a wasted note in the 78 minutes of Fillmore’s music.

Propelled upward and onward by bassist Berry Oakley, whose free-range style uniquely roamed the middle of the band’s sound, and the rhythmic onslaught of double drummers Jaimoe and the late Butch Trucks, the group seemed ready to blast off in any direction at any time.

Dickey Betts and Duane Allman spurred each other on to new heights of fretboard ferocity and creativity while pioneering guitar harmonies. Gregg Allman’s authentic blues singing and surging organ vamps kept even the most ambitious jams firmly rooted to terra firma.

“There’s nothing too complicated about what makes Fillmore a great album,” Betts offers. “The thing is, we were a hell of a band and we just got a good recording that captured what we sounded like.” Adds Jaimoe, “Fillmore was both a particularly great performance and a typical night.”

To truly understand the album, it helps to recognize just how hungry and desperate the band was at the time of its release. Then-manager and Capricorn Records president Phil Walden readily admitted he had begun to consider cashing in his chips and cutting his losses.

“It seemed like I had just been wrong and that they were never going to catch on,” Walden, who died in 2006, said in a 1990 interview. “People just didn’t grasp what the Allmans were all about musically or any other way. But they kept touring, state by state, city by city, going across the country, establishing themselves as the best live band around, and building a base.”

Gregg Allman said the band played more than 300 nights in 1970, traveling most of the off days, a claim that seems only a slight exaggeration. As they continued to crisscross the country, jammed together in first a Ford Econoline van and then a Winnebago, their sound evolved and deepened.

It’s a process well known to the hardcore tape traders who exchange copies of these shows like so many pieces of holy grail. But there was a price to pay. “That kind of schedule puts a lot of wear and tear on your ass,” Allman said.

Recalls booking agent Jonny Podell, “I started booking the band in June 1969. Phil Walden said, ‘Get them dates. I don’t care if it’s Portland, Oregon, on Monday and Portland, Maine, on Tuesday.’ I tried to do a little better, but that’s what we did, and they never complained.

“This was run like a machine, like a military unit. There were six in the band, and management provided them with first five, then six crew, making maybe $100 a night, which was pretty unusual for the time and really quite extravagant.”

The first two weeks of September 1971, just after At Fillmore East was released, provide a snapshot of the band’s grueling schedule. The Allmans played Montreal on September 3 and Miami the following night. They had five days off, during which they went into Miami’s Criteria Studios with Dowd and laid down the first tracks for Betts’ “Blue Sky,” which would appear on their next studio album, Eat a Peach.

They then played September 10 in Passaic, New Jersey, the following night in Clemson, South Carolina, and the night after that in Shippensburg, Pennsylvania. The band then had three days off and played September 16 in New Orleans.

“Don’t ask me how we did it, because I don’t know,” the band’s onetime tour manager Willie Perkins offered. “My own naïveté probably helped me, because we just did what was asked and made the gigs that were booked. But God! We used to call them ‘dartboard tours,’ because it seemed like someone had made the bookings by throwing darts at a map. We were zigzagging everywhere.”

With all that hard touring paying off and their fan base steadily growing by word of mouth, the band decided that it needed to capitalize on its concert success. The solution became apparent: Record a live album.

“We simply realized that we were a better live band than studio outfit because we were always ready to experiment — offstage as well as on, I may add,” Gregg explained. “And the audience was a big part of what we did up there, which is something that couldn’t be duplicated in a studio. A light bulb finally went off: We need to make a live album.”

Once the decision to record live was made — not an obvious choice in 1971, when live rock albums were still in their infancy — the choice of venue was simple. Promoter Bill Graham was an early and important supporter of the band, booking the Allmans repeatedly in his bicoastal rock emporiums, the Fillmore East, in New York, and the Fillmore West, in San Francisco, where they established themselves as an elite band.

The Allman Brothers Band had made their Fillmore debut on December 26, 1969, opening for Blood, Sweat & Tears for three nights. Graham promised he would have them back soon and often, paired with more appropriate acts. Two weeks later, they opened four shows for Buddy Guy and B.B. King at the Fillmore West. The following month they were back in New York for three nights with the Grateful Dead. These shows were crucial in establishing the band and exposing it to a wider and more sympathetic audience.

Subscribe now

Something particularly special was happening between the Allman Brothers and fans in New York, which remained their most supportive audience throughout their career (they played their final show there, at the Beacon Theatre, on October 28, 2014). In those dark ages of rock promotion, the Fillmores were a significant step above all other venues.

“The Fillmores were so professionally run, compared to anything else at the time,” Perkins says. “And Graham would gamble on acts, bringing in jazz and blues and the Trinidad/Tripoli String Band, and he had taken a chance on the Brothers, which everyone appreciated and remembered. He never paid anyone top dollar at the Fillmore. A lot of bands went off to other promoters as a result, and Bill would feel like they had turned their back on him. But we loved playing there.”

“New York crowds have always been great,” says Betts, who parted ways with the Allman Brothers in 2000. “But what made the Fillmore a special place was Bill Graham. He was the best promoter rock has ever had, and you could feel his influence in every single little thing at the Fillmore.”

“He called a spade a spade — and not necessarily in a loving way,” Allman added. “Mr. Graham was a stern man, the most tell-it-like-it-is person I have ever met, and at first it was off-putting. But he was the most fair person, too, and after knowing him for while, you realized that this guy, unlike most of the other fuckers out there, was on the straight and narrow.”

To cut the album, the band was booked into the Fillmore for three nights — March 11, 12 and 13, 1971 — as the middle act between opener Elvin Bishop and headliner Johnny Winter. The label and the band both wanted Dowd to produce the recording, but he was in Ghana working on recording the movie soundtrack for Soul to Soul, a concert featuring Wilson Picket, Aretha Frankin, Louis Armstrong, James Brown and Booker T & the MGs.

“I got off a plane from Africa and called Atlantic to let them know I was back, and Jerry Wexler said, ‘Thank God! We’re recording the Allman Brothers live, and the truck is already booked,’” Dowd said. “So I stayed up in New York for a few days longer than I had planned.”

A mobile recording studio was parked on the street outside the theater, with Dowd and a small crew set up inside. “It was a good truck, with a 16-track machine and a great, tough-as-nails staff who took care of business,” Dowd recalled. “They were all set to go.

“When I got there, I gave them a couple of suggestions and clued them as to what to expect and how to employ the 16 tracks, because we had two drummers and two lead guitar players, which was unusual, and it took some foresight to properly capture the dynamics.

Years later, the band members insisted the horn would have worked out fine.

“Juicy was playing baritone and would play basically along with the bass,” Gregg Allman said. “We knew we were recording three nights and probably just figured we’d get it the next night if it didn’t work out. We wanted to give ourselves plenty of times to do it because we didn’t want to go back and overdub anything, because then it wouldn’t have been a real live album. “

Adds Jaimoe, “Dowd started flipping out when he heard the horn, but that’s something that could have worked. There’s no way that it would have ruined anything that was going on. It wasn’t distracting anyone, and it was so powerful.”

Betts probably sums up the Allman Brothers’ thought process best. “We were just having fun, and everyone dug it,” he says. Though it was wiped from a few tracks (no one can quite remember which), Doucette’s fine harp playing adds an extra dimension to “You Don’t Love Me” and “Done Somebody Wrong.”

“Doucette had played with the band a lot, so he was a lot more cohesive with what they were doing,” Perkins states. “Duane loved horns, but he would also listen to reason, and I don’t think he put up any fight with Dowd.”

Doucette was actually a frequent performer with the band, an old friend of Duane’s who had been offered a full-time position in the band but turned it down because he didn’t want it to “feel like a job.” “Duane was trying to shoehorn me in there,” Doucette explains. “He and I were great friends and we really liked playing together and hanging out.

“I wouldn’t trade playing in the Allman Brothers for anything, but they were complete. They didn’t really need me, and I wasn’t a joiner. I wanted my relationship with the band exactly how it was, and I asked Duane if I could do that. I said, ‘I’ll show up, I’ll play, you pay me, we’ll laugh and have fun, I’ll split.’”

The harmonica player says Duane not only wanted him as a member but fully intended to add a horn section to the Allman Brothers’ lineup. “The plan was to bring on the horns full time,” Doucette says. “Duane would have liked to have 16 pieces. Duane had six different projects that he wanted to do, and he just thought he could do it all at once on the same bandstand.”

Each night after playing, the band and Dowd would head uptown to the Atlantic Records studio and listen to playbacks of the night’s performance. “We would just grab some beers and sandwiches and go through the show,” Dowd explained. “That way, the next night, they knew exactly what they had and which songs they didn’t have to play again.”

The band was thrilled just to be able to listen back to what they had played, a rare occurrence at the time. “We loved having that opportunity,” Betts says. “We just thought, Hey, this is cool! I didn’t know I did that. That sounds pretty neat. We were just enjoying ourselves, because we would get a chance to listen to our performances. We didn’t do a lot of [mixboard] recordings, and we weren’t real hung up on the recording industry anyhow. We just played, and if they wanted to record it, they could.

“We were young and headstrong,” he adds. “‘We’re gonna play. You do what you want.’”

The power of the music captured on At Fillmore East was in the group improvisation, the fact that six extremely unique musical voices were expressing themselves as one complete entity. At the heart of the group’s sound was Betts and Duane Allman, who reinvented the concept of two-guitar rock bands. Rather than having one player who was primarily a rhythm player backing a soloist, the group had two dynamic lead players.

While Duane Allman is probably most remembered and revered for his dynamic slide playing, he was a fully formed, mature guitarist. Betts, while often in Allman’s shadow, was also a wide-ranging, distinct stylist from the start. The pair had a broad range of techniques for playing together, often forming intricate, interlocking patterns with one another and/or bassist Berry Oakley, setting the stage for dramatic flights of improvised solos. And, uniquely, they often played harmonies together, a true rock and roll innovation that has been picked up on by countless bands.

“From our first time playing together, Duane started picking up on things I played and offering a harmony, and we’d build whole jams off of that,” Betts says. “We worked stuff out naturally because we were both lead players. We got those ideas from jazz horn players like Miles Davis and John Coltrane and fiddle lines from western swing music. I listened to a lot of country and string [bluegrass] music growing up. I played mandolin, ukulele and fiddle before I ever touched a guitar, which may be where a lot of the major keys I play come from.

“It’s very hard to go freestyle with two guitars. Most bands with two guitarists either have everything worked out or stay out of each other’s way, because it’s easy to sound like two cats fighting if you’re not careful. But it was very natural how Duane and I put our guitars together. He would almost always wait for me, or sometimes Oakley, to come up with a melody, and then he would join in on my riff with the harmony.”

The two drummers had a similarly easy and unique playing style, heard to full and perfect effect on At Fillmore East. Trucks and Jaimoe rarely played the same thing at the same time. Instead they played complementary parts that pushed the band to great heights and offered not only increased power but greater depth.

Trucks provided a hard-driving beat while Jaimoe deepened the groove and pushed up against the songs with all kinds of interesting concepts and rhythms. Jaimoe was deeply rooted in jazz and often played patterns and riffs straight off of Jimmy Cobb’s work on Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue album. He had also introduced the band to the album and to John Coltrane, both of which had a huge impact on the Allmans. This jazz influence can be heard throughout the expansive but never long-winded playing on At Fillmore East.

The symbiotic relationships between the two drummers and two guitarists carried throughout the band, which functioned like one organism with a single giant beating heart. Says Doucette, “You take any one of the six guys out and the whole thing doesn’t exist. This was a band of men. There weren’t any kids in it, despite our young ages. We’d all worked. We’d all been on the road and taken responsibility, and it came through in the music.”

Also central to their strength and appeal was the depth and maturity of Gregg Allman’s songwriting and singing. Though just in his early 20s, he conjured up the power and world-weary heaviness of the greatest blues singers.

Recalls Doucette, “I knew Duane for a long time but had never heard Gregg sing until the first time I played with the Allman Brothers Band. Gregory starts playing that organ and singing, and I went, Woah. Now here’s a guy who’s in worse pain than I am. He pushed all that pain into his music and combined it with his artistry into something very special and unique.”

Doucette remembers another Fillmore East date when Albert King came to jam with the group on a slow blues. “He’s up there in a lime-green suit, sucking on his pipe and doing his thing,” he says. “Then Gregg starts singing, and Albert damn near bit through his pipe. He’s never heard this voice before, and he’s looking around, literally swiveling his head trying to figure out who’s singing, and he sees this skinny blonde behind the organ just killing it and couldn’t believe it was him.”

Using only the last two nights recorded at the Fillmore, the Allman Brothers ended up with enough great material left over to fill more than half of their follow-up album, Eat a Peach, including the epic nearly 44-minute “Mountain Jam,” performed directly after the 23-minute “Whipping Post” heard on Fillmore.

“We just felt like we could play all night, and sometimes we did,” Betts recalls. “We could really hit the note. There’s not a single fix on Fillmore. Everything you hear there is how we played it.”

A few months after cutting the album, the members were in Capricorn Records’ Macon, Georgia, studio laying tracks when they learned that the live album was done and cover art had to be selected immediately.

“We wanted to come up with something, because, left to their own devices, the people at Atlantic did horrible things,” Gregg recalled. “I mean, these were the people who superimposed a picture of Sam and Dave onto a turtle [for the cover of the soul duo’s Hold On I’m Coming album]! We wanted to make sure that the cover was as meat and potatoes as the band, so someone said, ‘Let’s just take a damn picture and make it look like we’re standing in the alley waiting to go onstage.’”

Share

“We were up at daylight to take the photo for the album cover, and we were all in a real grumpy mood,” Betts recalls. “The photographer wanted us out there then, and we thought it was dumb. We figured it didn’t make a damn bit of difference what the cover was or what time we took it.

“This dude Duane knew came walking down the sidewalk, and Duane jumped up and ran over and got a joint from this guy, then came back and sat down. We were all laughing, and that’s the photo captured on the cover. If you look at Duane’s hand, you can see him hiding something there. He had copped and sat down with a mischievous grin.”

On the backside of the album, the crew stood in the musicians’ place, probably the first and last time roadies have ever been so prominently featured on an album cover. “That was my brother’s idea,” Gregg revealed. “The crew always played a special role in our band. It goes back to the very beginning, when we lived off the disability checks of Red Dog and Twiggs [Lyndon, tour manager]. It was like, ‘Want a job? Got any money?’ Putting them in a damn picture was the least we could do. They were the unsung heroes.”

The crew members at the time considered themselves a part of the band. They were paid the same $90-a-week salary, and the word was Duane issued an edict that if money was tight the crew should always be paid first. “We felt like we were part of the band,” says crew member Kim Payne, one of those featured on At Fillmore East. “It was truly more of a brotherhood than any kind of employee/employer relationship. Everyone was equal.”

Adds road manager Perkins, “Once, on my birthday, Duane asked for a $100 advance. I said, ‘Are you sure? You’ve already taken a lot,’ and he said, ‘I’m sure.’ So I filled out the receipt, he signed it, I gave him $100 and he handed it to me and said, ‘Happy birthday. Make sure that goes to my account and not the band’s.’”

“Duane truly appreciated everybody and understood that everybody was a piece of a puzzle,” Jaimoe says. “We all play together and every part is equally important, and that goes for the bus driver too. What you gonna do? Play all night and then drive the bus? Duane always said, ‘We’re all equal in this band.’ And that included the crew.”

Just 90 days after recording the album and just before its release, the Allman Brothers Band closed the Fillmore East down. The group was personally selected by Graham to be the hallowed venue’s final band after he had shocked everyone by announcing he was shutting the doors. “He closed the Fillmore with three nights and wanted us on all three, which I though was the kindest gesture and coolest thing,” Allman said.

“We were just dumbstruck when we found out that we were gonna close the Fillmore,” Butch Trucks said. “Can you think of a bigger honor at that time? Everyone wanted in on that gig. The Beach Boys showed up and unloaded all their stuff and said they’d have to play last, and Graham said, ‘Well, just pack up your shit. I have my closing band.’ So the Beach Boys had to swallow their pride.

“The next-to-last night, we played until the morning, and we did things that we had never thought of before or since. Those are the moments that have always made this thing work.”

Graham’s insistence that the relatively unknown Allman Brothers must be the Fillmore East’s final band must have seemed bold, even wacky, to most observers. But just weeks after the club shuttered its doors for good, At Fillmore East came out, forever linking the band and the venue in the pop-culture pantheon. Yet, the recording was almost never released in its extended, double-album form. “Atlantic/Atco rejected the idea of releasing a double-live album,” Walden said.

“[Atlantic executive] Jerry Wexler thought it was ridiculous to preserve all these jams. But we explained to them that the Allman Brothers were the people’s band, that playing was what they were all about, and that a phonograph record was confining to a group like this.”

Walden won out and was proven right when the record — “people priced” at three dollars below standard list for a double album — slowly became a hit and the Allman Brothers became the most heralded band in the nation. Rolling Stone proclaimed the Allmans “the best damn rock ’n’ roll band” in the country, and by the fall, At Fillmore East was the Allman Brothers Band’s first Gold album.

“All of a sudden, here comes fame and fortune,” Gregg recalled. “In a three- or four-week period, we went from rags to riches — from living on a three-dollar-a-day per diem to, ‘Get anything you want, boys!’”

Still, things were not easy within the band. They entered Criteria Studios with Dowd and recorded three songs in just about a week, then took a break and returned to the road for a short run of shows, ending on October 17, 1971, at the Painter’s Mill Music Fair in Owings Mill, Maryland. It had been a trying few months, with drugs and the band’s hard-charging lifestyle catching up with many of them, including Duane.

“Duane never stuck a needle in his arm, but he would snort heroin a lot,” Trucks said. “One night in the summer of ’71, in San Francisco, Duane followed me to my hotel room and jumped in my face. He said, ‘I’m pissed off! When Dickey gets up to play, the rhythm section is pumping away, and when I get up there you’re laying back and not pushing at all.’ I looked him dead in the eye and said, ‘Duane, you’re so fucked up on that smack that you’re not giving us anything.’

“He looked me in the eye and walked out the door. I think he knew I was telling him the truth and that’s what he wanted to hear. He needed someone to tell him what he already knew. It was one of the few times I had the balls to get in his face.”

“It was nuts,” Doucette adds. “Everything was everywhere.”

With almost everyone in the band and crew struggling with heroin addictions, Duane, Oakley, Payne and crew member Red Dog flew to Buffalo and checked into the Linwood-Bryant Hospital for a week of rehab. A receipt shows the band’s general bank account purchased five round-trip tickets on Eastern Airlines from Macon to Buffalo for $369. Gregg was supposed to go as well, and a hospital receipt shows he was one of the people for whom a deposit was paid. Apparently, he changed his mind at the last minute.

The group spent less than a week in rehab, and then checked out. Duane spent a day in New York City, visiting with guitarist John Hammond and other friends.

“He came over to my loft and we played acoustic guitars and had a blast for hours,” Hammond recalls. “I so wish I had taped it! He seemed to be in really good spirits, his head clear and excited to go on. Things were happening for them. The live album had come out and was a hit, and they were playing bigger places. Their star was rising. Which seemed exactly as it should be.

“We talked about him perhaps producing an album for me. There were all these songs that I played in my show that I talked to him about recording, and he said that he would like to be involved. There was nothing concrete, but he was talking business: what percent he would take, and this and that.

“I was not a business guy like that, and he was very together about the band, his finances, dealing with the business end of things. He was a very bright guy who knew how talented he was and wasn’t going to take himself lightly.”

Duane returned to Macon on October 28, 1971. That night, he visited Red Dog, the roadie who had been in rehab with him and whose loyalty to the guitarist was profound enough to call him an acolyte.

“He wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to slide back into doing heroin, to make sure I was all right,” Red Dog recalled in a 1986 interview. “He sat on my couch, squeezing my arm and looking me right in the eye, and said, ‘You haven’t done any, have you?’ and I said, ‘No, man.’ And I fired right back on him: ‘Hey, have you?’”

Subscribe now

The next day, Duane called Thom Doucette in Florida to check in on his old friend. Doucette had abruptly left the band on the road and returned home because of his own struggles with addiction. He had cleaned himself up and was thrilled to hear a vitality in his friend’s voice that indicated he too was overcoming his problems.

“He sounded great,” Doucette says. “He jumped through the phone, with an urgency in his voice, that shouted, ‘It’s me. It’s Duane! I’m back!’

“He goes, ‘You doing all right?’ and I said, ‘Man, never better. I’m grooving and the fish are running. This is it, baby.’ He said, ‘I’ll be down tonight. I already booked a reservation. I’m gonna ride down to the office, get my mail and get some money. We’ll go fishing, and then we’re going back to work.’ I wasn’t so sure about going back to work with the band, but I was so happy to hear from him.”

Shortly after hanging up with Doucette, Duane rode his motorcycle over to the group’s communal home, The Big House, where they were getting ready for a birthday party for Oakley’s wife, Linda. After visiting for a while, Duane got on his Harley-Davidson Sportster, which had been modified with extended forks that made it harder to handle.

Coming up over a hill and dropping down, Duane saw a flatbed lumber truck blocking his way. He pushed his bike to the left to swerve around the truck, but realized he was not going to make it and dropped his bike to avoid a collision. He hit the ground hard, the bike landing atop him.

Duane was alive and initially seemed okay, but he fell unconscious in the ambulance and had catastrophic head and chest injuries. As word of the accident began to circulate to band members and other family friends around Macon, many people began to drift toward the waiting room at the medical center.

“I was at my house when I got the call and went to the hospital,” recalls band friend and producer Johnny Sandlin. “I was hoping it wasn’t too bad and was planning on going in to see him. Guys were ending up in the emergency room from messing around with horses or bikes all the time.”

As the group gathered, someone emerged from the operating room with the unthinkable news: Duane had died in surgery three hours after the accident. The cause of death was listed as “severe injury of abdomen and head.”

“It was just unacceptable that he was gone,” Trucks remarked. “Unfathomable. I walked around stunned for weeks.”

At his funeral, Red Dog placed a joint in Duane’s pocket. Gregg gave his brother a silver dollar. Someone else added one of the Coricidin bottles Duane used as slides.

“We were all in shock,” Linda Oakley said. “It was like our guts had been torn out.”

Cowboy guitarist Scott Boyer, an old friend of Duane and Gregg’s summed up the feeling of the entire band and larger musical community: “It was inconceivable how someone that alive could be dead.”

Duane had lived to see the band’s breakthrough coming, but was not able to fully experience it.

“We worked so hard so long to get there. Then, bam! He was gone,” Gregg Allman said. “At the time, I thought, Shit, my brother really got shortchanged, because he never quite got to see what he had accomplished. I felt that way for years, but I’ve slowly come to realize that he left a hell of a legacy for dying at the age of 24 years old.

“And a lot of it has to do with the Fillmore album. I still listen to it and I marvel at how fresh his licks are and how great his tone is. That boy was one of a kind, man, just like Oakley was. The chance that all six of us would meet up and form a band is, like, unbelievable.”

Allman paused for a second to exhale a long breath and lets out a little chuckle.

“If you want to hear what I’m talking about, go get you that album.”

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.

“Dickey had the vision and I found the locale,” says West. “We were at Criteria recording and Dickey said, ‘Let’s talk about the album cover’ and he took me out to the lobby with an acoustic guitar and played me ‘Seven Turns’ and said, ‘That’s what I want the album to look like.’ It was one of the most amazing moments, because he saw me as an artist and knew that I could see his visions.

“I spent a few days driving around looking for the spot and I found this out on Alligator Alley, about an hour from the studio. I took Polaroids at two or three different locales, but I thought this was the one that was the best. It was an outlet road that we weren’t supposed to go through and I posted them all up against that.

There was a concrete overpass and then there was this spot. what were you going to do with seven guys other than line them up? They weren’t fashion models. Dickey knew how to pose. He had star quality. Gregg was too inhibited or shy or whatever. Warren was pretty good. Woody had in his mind. “I am a motherfucker and I will look like a motherfucker.” Jaimoe didn’t give a shit. He was always great to shoot because there was no telling him what to do. He’d show up in Bermuda shorts and boots. Butch was easy to work with, but he didn’t really assert his opinion about such things at this time.”

“We had a bucket brigade keeping that water there. It was right next to a canal and I had Red dog and Dave Lori, Gregg’s manager at the time, keeping the water level. Red Dog got really tweaked at me because there was an alligator in the water.

“Dickey loved the album cover, which is why he put up with so much of my shit for Shades of Two Worlds, where we shot pictures for four days. By the time we got to An Evening With, they gave me half an hour to do the whole thing outside the Orpheum in Boston. I loved the Seven Turns photo and I still do.”

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.

An interesting note. I tried to look up the exact date of the described ABB concert at the University of New Haven, but it is not listed in any databases. This does not mean it didn’t happen but rather points to the incomplete nature of all such lists for the era in question. If you’re still doubting, you can read Jon Tiven’s interview with Berry and Duane discussed below right here!

By Anthony Geraci - The Allman Brothers Band have been one of my favorite bands since I first heard their 1969 Atco debut, The Allman Brothers Band. There was always something special about their sound, something hard to describe-but it was there. Their unique sound was enhanced by the recording/production of Adrian Barber and later by Tom Dowd. It was a sound that was quite different then what many of us were hearing at that time. They were a long haired “blues” band playing Muddy Waters and Sonny Boy Williamson tunes and composing originals with unabashed abandonment that literally took my breath away.

I was just getting into blues, listening to what we all did at the beginning of our blues journey-Muddy Waters, Jimmy Rogers, B.B. King, Little Walter, and especially for me, a young piano player, Otis Spann, the great keyboardist from the classic Waters band. The Allman Brothers Band were proof that the idea of a young white guy like me throwing myself into this music with an original vision was not completely insane

The first time I saw the Brothers live was at the University of New Haven (CT) the week that Idlewild South (Atco) came out, around September 1970. They just came out, no introduction, no fan fare and by the time the first song was over the crowd was speechless, stunned and excited all at the same time. Duane Allman and Dickey Betts playing their signature “twin leads” with a pair of Marshall half stacks each, Gregg Allman playing Hammond B-3 with a pair of Leslies, Berry Oakley on bass, and the dueling drumming of Butch Trucks and Jai Johnny Johnson (soon to be know as Jaimoe. who I did a record with many years ago.)

The New Haven area always had a very good track record for bands playing in the city, and I saw most of them-Cream, Blind Faith, The Doors, Traffic, Jethro Tull, Hound Dog Taylor in a Yale University dorm room and many more. But we had never heard anything like the power that was coming from the stage that night!

Jon Tiven, a friend of mine from high school, had a little underground rock magazine and somehow finagled a way to get us back stage to interview the band. I think I drove so I got to tag along.

Subscribe now

After the concert we went backstage, up a flight of stairs to essentially a college teaching room, kind of sterile and reeking of highbrow escapades. We all sat down waiting to see who would show up. Those were the days when you could smoke a cigarette anywhere, so after a few minutes, I lit up a Kool. Just as I took a drag, in walked Duane Allman and Berry Oakley. They were both were kind of lopping along being a bit goofy-as most musicians are in these somewhat awkward, uncomfortable situations.

Share

Duane walked right over and sat next to me. He saw I was smoking a cigarette and asked if he could have a drag. I noticed he was holding a can of Schlitz, so I said, “Sure, I’ll trade for a pull off your beer.” Done deal! We traded vices a few times and Duane kept the Kool until it burned right down to the filter, I squeezed the last drop from that old can of warm Schlitz.

People were starting to ask questions . Duane did most of the talking. After about 10 minutes I asked Duane, “How come you have two drummers in the band?” He paused a minute, looked at me with those Allman eyes and said, “It’s better then one cat flogging his ass off.” That was the last question he took. Then he patted me on the back and they were both gone in a flash like phantoms in the night.

With all the grief the Allman Brothers have gone through, they always remained true to their original blues roots throughout their 45-year career and to put on shows that people will always remember. I was fortunate to open quite a few shows for the Allman Brothers on tour when I was playing piano and organ with Ronnie Earl and the Broadcasters around 1999. The band and their whole crew were wonderful to us. Gregg even let me use his Hammond B-3 and his organ tech showed me the key to Gregg’s sound. That’ll cost you though! I even got Gregg to take some echinacea because he was fighting a cold!

If anyone wants to talk with me after a gig-leave the Kools home, because I quit smoking long ago. But I’d gladly share a Schlitz if they still make it!

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.

We have two more dates with Jaimoe scheduled to play with Friends of the Brothers - July 20 at City Winery NYC and August 7 at Infinity Hall, Hartford. We will probably do these kinds of sessions at both. If you can make one or both, you really should!

“Midnight Rider” video below.

As I wrote in the headline, it was no coincidence that Jaimoe was the first guy Duane Allman signed up for his fledgling band and I am proud that the book and everything leading up to it will help make this more and more clear to Allman Brothers Band fans. I really don’t think anyone other than Duane would have heard Jaimoe and understood how he could help transform an outlandishly ambitious vision into reality. All true fans of the ABB know they were different than the rest. “blues with a twist,” “rock with a twist.” JAIMOE WAS THE TWIST.

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.

REM’s Peter Buck and the late Todd Snider guest on Crushing Flowers.

Nearly 40 years in, Drivin N Cryin remains a living, breathing American rock band — not a revival act, not a footnote, but a continuing story still being written.. Coming from the same golden era of college radio rock that birthed fellow Georgia bands R.E.M., Indigo Girls, Black Crowes and more, the band and their frontman Kevn Kinney — a songwriter’s songwriter — still have plenty to say.  Tune in to my conversation with Kevn, and let me know what you think.

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s was my third straight book to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book was Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band. It was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer who fronts two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.