The Best Damn Band We're Ever Gonna Hear: The Allman Brothers Band!

Thoughts on the ABB's Manley Fieldhouse release

Welcome to another edition of Long Live the ABB: Conversation from the Crossroads of Southern music, history, and culture.

Today’s post is a deep dive on the latest archival release Manley Fieldhouse, Syracuse University April 7, 1972.

The 5-man band

5-man band photo by Twiggs.

In the wake of Duane’s death, his surviving bandmates finished Eat a Peach and embarked on a massive tour as a quintet. This era of the Allman Brothers Band has always fascinated and inspired me.

I’ve have thought/written about the era a lot. Other than Play All Night,⁴ here’s 2:

• 5-man band in the wake of Duane’s death.

• 1972 was an even bigger year than 1971.

And if you don’t want to read it, here’s me riffing on video about it.¹

I’m astounded every time I think about it. How can anyone in so much pain get up and perform at any level, much less a HIGH level (more on that in a bit).

It’s taken me some time to digest my thoughts on the release. It’s been awhile since I’ve given this show a deep dive. Listening gave me a renewed respect for this lineup.

What it says to me, what it’s always said to me, is how much music meant to them. They poured out their grief through playing. Honoring Duane’s memory as best they knew how, as he would have wished.

Literally.

Here’s Butch

When Duane came back from King Curtis's funeral, he was thinking a lot about death and he said many times, “If anything ever happens to me, you guys better keep it going. Put me in a pine box, throw me in the river, and jam for two or three days.”²

On just about any level you can think of, it was devastating. What kept us going was the bond that forms when you have to deal with that kind of grief. Also, we did it for his sake as much as ours. We had just gone too far, and hit so many new plateaus in what we were doing, to simply quit.

There wasn't any other way to deal with it but to play again. But the hardest thing was just that he wasn't there.

This guy was always right there in front of me...and he wasn't there anymore.

As Gregg told Cameron Crowe in 1973