Attending an Allman Brothers concert results in an overload of stimulus.
Visual, auditory and olfactory. Yeah, the sweet gentle aroma of pot wafts through the air, perfectly complementing the vibe of the event.
This makes me happy. Years ago you could smoke pot with abandon at concerts. Now the attendants are roaming with intent, so you have to be more discreet. I am proud of the fact that Allman Brothers fans defy the new, more narrow code of rock concerts.
The Allman Brothers are ultra cool. They don't even get announced. They just casually wander onstage in the dark, strap on their instruments and start to play.
Experienced fans like me know this, and we wait and watch. And I gotta tell you when I see Gregg enter stage left, I get goosebumps. Every single time.
Seeing Gregg Allman walk on stage is more dramatic than seeing Jesus walk on stage. The man is an icon. He is larger than life and he carries on his shoulders the legacy that his brother left behind when he died in 1971.
He has struggled and failed, and he has risen like the Phoenix and emerged triumphant.
His voice was strong last night, the ultimate blues voice, and he exuded energy. I worried about him because earlier this year I saw interviews with him and he appeared fragile and old.
He still looks 10 years older than he is, but he was a God last night.
This band cannot be contained on a small stage. They are seven members strong. Gregg on keyboards, Derek and Warren on guitar, Oteil on bass, Jaimoe and Butch on drums, and Marc on percussion.
I am talking keyboards, two guitars, bass, two full drum kits, and percussion.
They command presence.
There are two screens, one on each side of the stage, and one screen behind the stage directly over the band.
You can watch the side screens to get blown away by what these musicians do. Close ups of fingers running insanely over frets, drum sticks flying with controlled abandon, keyboards being caressed by knowing fingers.
And I do that and I dig that.
You can look at the screen above the stage and dig the old school graphics. And the super imposed images of Duane and Allen Woody and Berry Oakley and Lamar Williams. And countless blues greats as well.
And I do that and I dig that.
But mostly I look directly at the stage. Because you see all seven musicians in motion and it is mind blowing. Cymbals crashing, fingers flying, faces grimacing in ecstasy.
In between songs the stage grows dark and the band mulls around.
Again, the experienced know this so I was amused when Sir Eric asked me "Are they always this casual?"
And the sound. There is a lot of sound. You can focus on solos or you can pull back a little and allow your ears to be assaulted by the rumbling bass, the wailing guitars, the rhythm guitar, the keyboards, the drums, the percussion, all happening at once and all happening like a well oiled machine.
So tight. So explosive.
The fans. The fans, baby. Allman Brothers fans are fanatics. You can feel the intensity of the audience. It ripples through you and the venue and elevates you even higher.
These people are knowledgeable and devoted. There is nothing casual about an Allman Brothers fan.
You can't be casual. The band doesn't allow it. A band this accomplished, this talented, this polished, demands respect from the fans.
I kept looking around at the sea of gratified faces, the swaying bodies, the mouths singing lyrics and I felt, as I always feel, that I am part of a community.
A community founded on excellence and love and musical devotion and appreciation of what a band like The Allman Brothers means in the history of music.
When the music's over and we are filing out, there is almost a sense of exhaustion. This band lifts you so high and makes you feel so good that when you re-enter "reality", you got nothing left.
Magic.
I think I blew it on the less emotion thing.
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