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The Allman Brothers Band and NYC 1989-2009 by Josh Chasin | |
Click here to purchase the HTN 40th Anniversary
Beacon Program program.This story begins at the Fillmore East, and it picks up again in June of 1989. I had tickets to see Gregg Allman at Avery Fisher Hall, but with the Dreams retrospective box set out, the Allman Brothers Band had reunited, and the Gregg show turned out to be their second gig back. The four original members were joined by guitarist Warren Haynes, bass player Allen Woody, and keyboard player Johnny Neel; they were a bigger, burlier, hairier Allman Brothers Band. Woody thundered; Haynes didn’t give an inch in a challenging role, pushing Dickey Betts. Through memory’s haze I recall that the first set ended with “Dreams,” a song that had not been played live since 1973 – it was chilling. Then the second set opened with “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed,” and the Big Apple Peach Heads were in heaven. I remember the new guy Haynes sang “Before the Bullets Fly,” a song he co-wrote for Gregg. The show was like a welcome visit from an old friend. That September the band came back through town for four nights at the Beacon Theatre, ten blocks uptown. They must have liked the venue, because in March ‘92 they were back for a ten-night stand. Neel was gone, and a young salsa percussionist named Marc Quinones had joined Butch Trucks and Jaimoe on the back line, adding a flavor and groove that worked especially well with the darker, minor key songs. The Tuesday night show I saw was classic, with an acoustic set in the middle giving way to Haynes and the band thundering through “Hoochie Coochie Man.” Of course one show wasn’t enough, so I managed to dig up a ninth row seat for the following Saturday. “Stormy Monday” was sublime, and the achingly slow “Get On with Your Life” hung in the late night smoky air like an old friend. Then “Dreams” and “Whipping Post” brought the night to a trippy, mystical close. We didn’t see the Brothers in town again until 1994, and another eight nights at the Beacon. I remember “Jessica” filling the hall with ambling joy, and they had new songs from the imminent Where it All Begins album as well. “All Night Train” was immediately appealing and “Back Where It All Begins” was nostalgic even as we heard it for the first time. In ’95 we moved the party downtown to Radio City, but by now we understood that these were still “the Beacon shows.” Haynes and Woody stood out mightily, Woody at the lip of the stage making the chandeliers shake. At one mid-week show, featuring an especially searing rendition of Willie Dixon’s “The Same Thing,” Haynes was totally riveting; we didn’t take our eyes off him all night. He was the focal point of the front line. In ’96 we were back at the Beacon for 13 shows, and it was a great year for the band. Haynes tore our hearts out on “Worried Down with the Blues,” and almost every night “True Gravity” was an extended highlight. (It continued to breathe and grow throughout the summer as the band made their way across the country.) Over time the band fell into an annual rhythm. The Beacon shows were the first of the year, and the place where the new repertoire debuted. By March 1997 the Beacon run had become a part of the fabric of springtime in Manhattan; if the buds are blossoming, it must be Peach time. Fans traveled to town for the shows, taking over the Beacon Hotel next door for the three week stand, overflowing from the local bars before and after shows. The weekend shows were full-on dance parties, but the mid-week shows had their own kind of magic, where you could sit back and drift in and out of the music, letting it wash over you and carry you away. 1997 turned out to be the last stand of the Haynes/Woody era, and the shows were especially aggressive. “High Falls” was the set piece of the run, full of majesty and grace. On opening night, Butch’s nephew, a 17 year-old kid named Derek Trucks sat in on “Southbound,” hittin’ the note like it was the most natural thing in the world… On the heels of the ’97 shows Haynes and Woody left to devote themselves full time to Gov’t Mule; they were replaced in time for the summer sheds by Jack Pearson and Oteil Burbridge. In March 1998 the new line-up came to the Beacon for 15 shows. Pearson was sublime, angelic in his playing, and Burbridge played with a more jazz-inspired, funky feel than Woody’s full-on assault. Together they brought a lighter, more nimble touch to the music, freeing Betts up to play more dirty and nasty. Pearson brought in some new songs, including his gentle “I’m Not Crying,” and revived the old standard “Dimples,” once associated with Duane Allman. He shone on “Dreams” and “Elizabeth Reed,” and his sweet touch was especially welcome on the acoustic interludes that opened the second sets of the shows. On Friday the 20th, the band offered up “Elizabeth Reed” in the acoustic set; it must have felt right, because they played it again, electric, to close the show that would become known as “The Night of Two Elizabeth Reeds.” In 1999 the band celebrated their 30th anniversary with a 19-show stand. There were some new songs that hadn’t quite gelled, but the night of the 26th – the actual anniversary – was one for the ages, featuring old songs and new ones, “Les Brers” to close the set, and “Whipping Post” as the only possible final encore. Pearson left the band right after the ’99 run, and while the 2000 Beacon shows – the first with Derek Trucks – felt like a sort of beginning, they also felt like an end. In some barely perceptible way, the Mojo seemed to be running low. Jimmy Herring replaced Dickey Betts for the summer shows, a great season that featured the return of “Mountain Jam” and exquisite performances of “Loan Me a Dime.” Hearing and seeing Derek peel off big juicy slide notes in that song out at Jones Beach, it was impossible not to think of Duane Allman, who played on the Boz Scaggs original. With the departure of Haynes, Gregg Allman shouldered the vocal responsibilities in a way that harkened back to the earliest days of the band. He came through brilliantly, his voice at its bluesy, soulful best. Then Allen Woody tragically passed away that summer, and Warren put on the epic “One for Woody” show at Roseland. Derek was unavailable, so Haynes stood alongside Herring for a heartfelt Allman Brothers set highlighted by “Feel So Bad” – with Little Milton – and an aching “Dreams.” In 2001 the story began again. Warren Haynes was back, standing in the slot Herring had held down the summer before. It was a new beginning for the band, with Warren bringing in songs like the Mule’s “Rockin’ Horse” and Otis Redding’s “Loving You Too Long.” “Desdemona,” a lovely blues and waltz number written by Gregg and Warren, debuted, the instrumental mid-section reminiscent of John Coltrane’s version of “My Favorite Things.” This was a band reinventing itself, 32 years young. Especially noteworthy about the 2001 run was the three-show guest spot for Chuck Leavell. He sat in on “High Falls,” “All Night Train,” and Elizabeth Reed,” but of course the three romps on his signature tune “Jessica” were Snoopy-dance joyous. During the 2002 stand something important happened. For the first time, the songs had no distinct Dickey parts and Duane parts; even on the old warhorses, now there was the Derek part, and the Warren part. Sure, the imprint of the original players was indelible. But once this happened, the lid was off, and the music began to open up and grow in wondrous new directions. Over the next several years the Beacon became Opening Day and the World Series rolled into one. The Live at the Beacon DVD and One Way Out CD document the 2003 run, which was highlighted by the introduction of “Layla” into the setlist. But in 2004 the band was even better, and in 2005 better still. New colors and textures enriched the music. The Beacon became a magnet for other musicians; such stellar and diverse players as Roy Haynes, Peter Frampton, Ravi Coltrane, Johnny Winter, Taj Mahal, Leslie West, Hubert Sumlin, and the Asbury Jukes Horns sat in, pushing and tugging at the music’s boundaries. Songs expanded, opened up into new improvisations; “Revival” and “Black Hearted Woman” were reinvented, then reinvented again, evolving into extended improvisational vehicles. All told the Allman Brothers Band has played this beautiful old theatre 175 times. The band is special, and the room is special, but the combination of this band in this room is sublime, spiritual ecstasy. There are those times when the music swells and expands until it fills the hall and the whole Beacon resonates, vibrates, shines. These are the moments the band calls hittin’ the note, but here in the Beacon, when the band sets the room to ringing, we all hit the note together. There is no them, there is no us; there is just the music, the language of life, shaking you to the core. New York City has been in love with this music for 40 years, and each spring, we come here to see old friends, dance, and renew our vows. I was worried that some of that magic might have been wiped clean in the recent renovation of this grand room. Look around, it sparkles. But by the time this run is over, the Allman Brothers will have slathered a thick, fresh new coat of juju around the place. Some of it will stick to your shoes. Because here’s the thing – if this music is sacred, then this place is a church. Every March it fills with reverence and spirit and joy, emitting a big life-affirming exclamation point of white light. The show ends and you stumble, dazed, out onto the city sidewalks, glowing and vibrating. The cool night air braces you, but you are still hittin’ the note. And I’m guessing that’s pretty much what Brother Duane had in mind all along. This article was written for the HTN 40th Anniversary Beacon Program, which is being given out at all 15 Beacon Theatre shows. You can also purchase this program by clicking here. 
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