by Paul, Alan
ALLMAN: Most people are two steps from the coroner when they finally get a transplant, so naturally they feel refreshed when they come out the other side, with fresh, clean blood running through them. Phil Lesh [who had a liver transplant in 1998] called me before the surgery and said that when I was done I would feel like a new man, but the thing is I still felt pretty good, though I was drinking those five-hour energy drinks right and left and getting B-twelve shots two or three times a week to keep my energy up.
I had to sleep all day in order to play at night, but I’m not much of a day person anyhow, so that wasn’t that unusual. But they told me I wouldn’t be able to do that routine for more than two or three years before I’d start going down into a very slow, painful death that would take about two and a half years. I needed the operation as soon as I could have it.
When I found out there was a match, I was really excited. I had no idea what I was in for. When I first woke up, it was the worst pain I ever dreamt of, much less had. I didn’t even think about that going in there and they don’t even let you know anything about that because if they did, a lot of people would say “No thanks” and they would die. The first four days, the pain is just unbelievable. They have this thing to spread your rib cage. It’s like building a battleship in a bottle so they take this big forceps thing and stretch your rib cage and when you wake up, Ooohhh God! The pain right across the middle of your back all the way around is just unbearable. But within weeks I started to feel very clearheaded and healthy. Of course, this was a godsend, and it makes you real humble and stop and feel appreciative.
As Allman recuperated in his Savannah, Georgia, home with the help of longtime friend Chank Middleton and housekeeper Judy Lariscy, he began itching to get back on stage.
ALLMAN: As I began to recover and feel better, I was laid up for 120 days and that was the longest I’ve gone without performing by far. I’ve been doing this since I was sixteen and, man, did I miss it. What I missed was getting out there and making it work. What I miss ends at the front of the stage. I just love to play, man, and am seriously devoted to that music. Plus, I’ve got a lot of gypsy in my blood and I don’t mind traveling for as long as I can possibly do it. Just being home that long was real strange and I didn’t really like it.
Allman returned to the stage with the Allman Brothers Band on November 10, 2010, at Philadelphia’s Tower Theater, the start of a nine-show tour of Northeastern theaters. He appeared remarkably vigorous but suffered some health setbacks over the ensuing eighteen months. When Gregg missed the final show and a half of the 2012 Beacon run and appeared greatly weakened at the Wanee Fest a month later, Haynes was once again sent scrambling to round up appropriate guest stars and many fans started to write the obituary of the Allman Brothers Band. Perhaps they should have known better, given the long history, but the concern extended to the band itself.
QUIÑONES: We really thought that we lost Gregg for good musically. It was really, really scary to watch him on stage; we had never seen him like that. And Butch also had some health problems, which led to me playing a lot of drums in his place, so for a while we had two-thirds of the original band in precarious situations. Me, Derek, Warren, and Oteil were looking at each other on stage with a lot of concern and we had a lot of dinner meetings, discussing what to do, how to get the band back on track. There were some moments that we thought it was the end of the line for the Allman Brothers Band.
BUTCH TRUCKS: I have glaucoma and it got to where I had 20 percent vision in my right eye. I needed surgery but couldn’t have it before the tour, so the ophthalmologist put me on this medication to take the pressure off the eyeball but it led to a lot of other issues. It stops your body from producing sodium and I was getting worn out mentally and physically. My mother died of Alzheimer’s and Derek was old enough to see that, and when he looked at me, that’s what he was seeing in my eyes and it understandably freaked him out and scared me, too. I went straight to New York for an MRI and they said there’s nothing wrong and took me off the medication and I got back on my game.
QUIÑONES: It sometimes seemed like we were more concerned about the legacy of this band than the original members were. We didn’t want to go out on stage sounding like that and for people to start bagging the band. After working so hard for this unit to sound so good, we didn’t want to go out like that. When the guy forgets lyrics for songs he’s been singing for forty years, we’ve got a problem, man. We got together towards the end of the run and went to talk to Gregg in his hotel room.
BUTCH TRUCKS: When Gregg forgot the first line to “Statesboro Blues” we knew we had a serious issue. We had a meeting at the end of the tour to flat-out tell him, “Pull it together—do whatever you have to do or there’s not going to be any more Allman Brothers tours.” And he kind of pulled the rug out of our meeting by saying he knew what the problem was and what the meeting was about before we could say a word.
QUIÑONES: Before we could say anything, Gregg said, “Guys, I know. I’ve decided to go into rehab at the end of this run.” And that’s what it takes—for the addict to say, “I need help.” It has to be their choice, their decision, so when he said that, we were really, really happy and surprised.
He came back the following March [2013] for the Beacon in unbelievable shape. The first day of Beacon rehearsal, we rehearsed an hour and a half straight, which had never happened in the twenty-two years I’ve been in this band. We used to go to Sarasota for three weeks and if we got three good rehearsals in, it was a lot.
HAYNES: We had about a week to rehearse and we packed a lot more into each session than we normally would. We got a lot more accomplished and it was a pleasant scene. Everyone was psyched that everyone individually was in good shape. Gregg and Butch were doing way better, which was a big relief, and the music really benefited.
Gregg’s condition and the band’s extra rehearsal time were evident throughout the 2013 Beacon run, as they introduced two new Haynes-penned songs as well as several ambitious new covers and some ABB songs that had fallen off their set lists. Gregg sang and played stronger than he had since at least 2009.
BUTCH TRUCKS: The last three nights I had to tape my snare drum down because I was hitting it so hard it was bouncing up to my crotch. I was having more fun than I’ve ever had in my life. That was the best run ever, made all the sweeter by the difficulties of the previous year.
HAYNES: I think we played a higher level than we have at least since the fortieth anniversary. It was a very satisfying run.
Less than a month later, the Allman Brothers band headlined the first night of Eric Clapton’s Crossroads Festival at Madison Square Garden, a two-night orgy of guitar greats, including Jeff Beck, Buddy Guy, B.B. King, Keith Richards, Vince Gill, and many others.
Over the past few years, the band has toured less, with most members working with various other bands: Derek in the Tedeschi Trucks Band; Haynes in Gov’t Mule and his self-named band; Allman in Gregg Allman and Friends; Jaimoe in his Jassz Band.
ALLMAN: Now I got my own band and I’ve got the Brothers and I like them both. The big-amp thing in the Brothers is one thing and my thing is different and to get total fulfillment in music I need both. And I think the reason that I like them both so much is that they’re both there, if that makes any sense. You understand?
JAIMOE: I think everyone having other bands is great. When you go off for four or five months and play with other people in other contexts, you bring different ideas and influences back with you, and you play different things. You really grow. Combine that with an ability to communicate, which we have, and you can get something great. The band becomes more able to go in all these different directions.
DEREK TRUCKS: So many of us having our own bands is one of the things that’s kept it fresh over the last decade. Everyone is doing his own thing and when you get back it’s like an old comfortable sweater that you’re happy to put on. It’s like, “This is home.” But you also bring fresh energy and ideas back. Everyone goes thr
ough changes; you don’t play the same year to year, and we all welcome these changes that subtly alter the dynamics of the whole band. For instance, Warren and I always do a dance, where we have to respond to the other guy playing with more or less volume or aggression or an altered tone. You can counterbalance it, or match it.
HAYNES: Every time you play in new musical situations, it’s a new learning experience and it can alter your approach to everything else. Working in all these different situations, you cannot help but learn from them. I think it is important for me to always try to do something that I have not tried before.
QUIÑONES: The scheduling allows time for everyone to be apart and it works well whether guys are playing in their own bands or not. Once we stop playing in September we don’t really come together until February. That allows you to bring new air into the lungs and get ready to do the next shows and come back really excited to see one another and make some music.
DEREK TRUCKS: I’m not an actor; if I’m not inspired, I can’t do it well. If I’m not fully into the idea, people can tell, and just about everyone in this band is the same.
HAYNES: I think the Allman Brothers both individually and collectively have found ourselves in a place where we just want to shake it up and not do what is expected of us—not go out night after night and play the hits, or the most popular staples in the repertoire. When I rejoined the band, Gregg asked if I would make the set lists. It takes a lot of energy and focus, but I enjoy it. We keep a log of all the set lists and when we’re touring, I look back to see what we played the last time we were there and possibly the time before that. I want to make sure the majority of the songs are different. The right combination makes for a great Allman Brothers show.
BUTCH TRUCKS: Warren is basically our onstage leader, and we actually had some issues with him for a while because when he came back we spoke about him needing to put the set list together and Warren took it a step or two too far—he thought it meant I wanted him to take the leadership of the whole band, and we had to have a couple of conversations. But Warren is absolutely an integral part of the band and this thing is unimaginable without him.
Warren Haynes, guitarist and much more.
QUIÑONES: Warren has taken on the unofficial role of musical director. Someone has to put this thing together, to tell people what to listen to in order to get ready, and he does well in that role. He enjoys it and is a natural. He certainly consults everyone, especially Gregg, about the set lists, but he knows how to talk to Gregg. He knows the right things to say to keep things moving and everyone feeling good.
HAYNES: When we’re doing a residency like the Beacon, you have to bear in mind that a certain portion of the audience is there every night, a smaller portion is there multiple nights, but the largest portion is there just one night and those people might want to hear their favorite songs. Nobody is ever going to come to an Allman Brothers show and hear all of their favorite songs but hopefully they’ll hear enough of the staples that they’ll maintain interest. We have to change it up every night to keep ourselves fresh. It feels like the audience is ready for that.
DEREK TRUCKS: We’re past the point of taking any show for granted. What’s happening is a natural winding down of things, with only a handful of shows each year and nobody knows what beyond that. It’s clichéd to say you should play every time you hit the stage like it’s your last gig, but it certainly comes into play.
HAYNES: Somehow we’ve managed to build this following—combining the old audience with an influx of new fans—that understands what we’re doing and allows us to do what we want to. I’m sure if someone comes to one night at the Beacon and it’s “jazz night,” they might be frustrated. Sorry, but we might play “Midnight Rider” tomorrow and may have played “Melissa” last night.
ALLMAN: The meaning is still there for me when I sing the old songs. All it takes to freshen something up is just put a little bit of jam in, have the intro weave around, add a break. Those things keep it fresh for everyone. A few years ago, Warren and Derek put a whole new spin on “Midnight Rider” and I loved it.
DEREK TRUCKS: We added an extended outro jam and it changed the whole tune. Doing something like that changes the way you feel when you see it on the list. I think we do a good job of knowing when it’s time to tinker. I go back and forth about what’s right. There’s something really nice about getting your hooks in a tune and massaging it over time, but with songs that have been stamped into people’s minds so indelibly, I think that it’s more important to nail them. No matter how over-the-top great Warren or I play “Statesboro,” at least half the crowd is listening to the solo from Fillmore East in their head.
Everyone has an internal mechanism that kicks in when a song starts feeling stale. Then someone either has a definitive idea of how to change it or suggests dropping it for a little while so we can come back to it with fresh ideas. I love what we did to “Midnight Rider.”
JAIMOE: Rearranging the songs can really keep them—and you—fresh.
HAYNES: I don’t think the band would want to exist as a nostalgia band, playing the same shows every night. And the comfort zone we’ve provided to the audience and ourselves has given us the luxury to be in a situation where we can play what we want and people not only accept it, but also actually dig it. It’s kind of amazing.
ALLMAN: I know of a band that plays the same songs in the same order and says the same things between songs night after night. If you ask me, that’s a job, no different than being a shock-absorber washer-jammer in Detroit—and not wanting to be one of those is why I became a musician in the first place.
HAYNES: We are not playing together as much and we all have other bands, so when we come together now it’s fun for all of us. It’s almost like family. In the past, members may have been threatened by playing people’s solo material, but now we’re actually looking to expand the repertoire in any way possible. It could be a song from Gregg’s record, my record, or Derek’s record. It could be Van Morrison or Miles Davis; whatever we feel we can interpret and put an Allman Brothers stamp on. Some of it is just the bravery I love of comrades willing to play a song we barely know. We’ll get up in front of a sold-out Beacon and play a song we have never played because we have confidence we can pull it off.
And we’ve just come to terms with the fact that everything we do is going to be on the Internet in some shape or form. In Gov’t Mule we have Mule Tracks where people can download the show and many do. You cannot allow this to change how you approach performing. You just have to accept the blemishes and mistakes as part of the music. The kind of music we’re longing to make is not about perfection anyhow. All of our favorite records have mistakes if you listen closely enough.
ALLMAN: Probably not a day goes by riding around on the buses that we don’t talk about Duane. It’s almost like he’s with us. Sometimes when I’m on stage I can feel his presence so strong I can almost smell him. I don’t want to get too cosmic, but it’s like he’s right there next to me.
HAMMOND: You can still feel Duane’s presence on stage with them. When you talk about Duane with any of them, it’s still so fresh and raw … like he was here yesterday. And I understand because I still miss him. He was such an amazing, dynamic guy.
SANDLIN: I miss Duane so much just because of the way he could get people fired up and moving in the same direction.
BUTCH TRUCKS: Duane was like Goethe’s Faust, someone who wanted to experience life, good, bad, or other. He didn’t hold back.
RED DOG: Duane once said to me, “All I want to do is leave a mark, that I was here. People will know Duane Allman was on this earth for a while.”
Brother Duane Allman, 1970.
ALLMAN: For years I thought that my brother really got shortchanged because he never quite got to see what he had accomplished, but I’ve slowly come to realize that he left a hell of a legacy for dying at the age of twenty-four.
JAIMOE: You know, the older I get, the more I miss Duane. He was a person who lo
ved to live and he fucking lived, man. He lived life.
Afterword by Jaimoe
When you have one or more people trying to do something, you either have a team or you have nothing. If someone dictates what everyone else should do, that’s not a team. And whether you’re making music, going to the moon, or playing football, if you don’t think as one mind, then you’ve got nothing but a train wreck.
The Allman Brothers Band was a team from the day we became a band.
Duane Allman was the guy who had the vision, who saw what he wanted—two drums, two lead guitars, Gregg singing—and knew which musicians could make it happen. There’s no question he was the leader, but Duane understood that for it to work, everyone had to have their voice and express their personality. Duane never dictated what anyone else played. He wanted a band.
To have a real band, everyone has to be able to express themselves and play what they feel while also pulling for the common good. It’s not that complicated; you have to make adjustments to your approach to make it all fit. Some people think this is limiting—that it’s about what you can’t do—but that’s not the case. It’s about how you do what you do. The personality of a musician is what makes a note different, the only thing that makes any music different from any other, and you have to leave room for everyone to express their personality. And collaboration is what makes a band a band. Real collaboration means real listening and letting what others play change what you were about to play.
Music is like the wind. It drags. It rushes. It’s on time. It’s off time. Some people cut this off by playing whatever they have planned regardless of what anyone else is doing; they play in such a way that you can’t respond. They box you in instead of opening you up. I’ve played with great musicians who limit what you can play—you can’t go anywhere or do anything different, which is the opposite of what music should be. I felt musically liberated the first time I jammed with Duane and Berry, which was the beginning of the Allman Brothers Band.