Chicapah
Barely over a year had passed since the horrible motorcycle wreck that killed Duane when The Allman Brothers Band suffered another unbelievable tragedy as Barry Oakley, their gifted bass player, perished in eerily similar circumstances. With Duane’s demise they lost a big portion of their heart and uncompromising spirit. When Barry died they lost what was left of their rebellious soul. Besides being a fantastic bassist Oakley was the peacemaker that mediated the frequent squabbles that erupted amongst the group’s egotistical members. Without his rational, calming presence on hand the ensemble began to fly apart from near-constant internal friction and their ongoing career storyline became more like that of a daytime soap opera than a focused, professional band determined to blaze new trails in American music. “Brothers and Sisters” signified that they were no longer interested in blending jazzy flavorings into their sound and therefore it was a disappointment for many of us who found that aspect of their music the most attractive. What they were turning themselves into was a more commercial and profitable commodity. But the fee for this re-plotting of purpose was paid for by bartering away their uniqueness. Drawn like moths to the bright flame of rock stardom’s riches and fame, they willingly sold their one-of-a-kind mojo for thirty pieces of silver.
On “Eat a Peach” the group’s studio efforts made for a fitting tribute to their fallen brother Duane in that they retained the rambunctious funk/rock attitude that he sowed and cultivated in their fertile, virgin soil. But on this album, put out a year and a half after that terrific double LP’s release, hardly any of that revered guitarist’s influence can be detected. I certainly concur that he was irreplaceable and that hiring the talented pianist Chuck Leavell to take his spot was a wise move but he isn’t the problem here and neither is the experienced Lamar Williams, brought in to perform bass guitar duties on five of the cuts. The real issue lies in the songwriting and the direction those tunes took the group in. Gone were the wildly inventive arrangements and clever nuances that made their mixture of blues, jazz and rock so extraordinarily addictive. What we fans were left with was much more predictable, safe and, most unfortunate of all, run-of-the-mill. Their essence had been gutted.
They open with Gregg’s “Wasted Words,” a rumblin’, tumblin’ rocker that has a vague Rolling Stones vibe running through it, probably due to Leavell’s roadhouse piano approach and Dickey Betts’ Mick Taylor-like slide guitar work. It’s not a bad song per se but, despite Barry’s still being around at that point to contribute his tasteful bass, there’s nary a trace of jazz or funk to be found in the track and it sets a dubious precedent regarding what’s to come. Betts’ “Ramblin’ Man” is next and it is 100% country rock from beginning to end. It’s also very much a radio-friendly ditty that did a great marketing job in generating early buzz about the album yet it earmarks a juncture where the band begins to resemble the groups that were emulating them. They were starting to be an inferior imitation of their former selves, in other words. Allman’s “Come and Go Blues” follows and it’s a mediocre southern-styled blues/rock song that benefits favorably from Chuck’s fluid ivory-tickling and the dual drum attack of Butch Trucks and Jaimoe. The tune itself is rather lame but at least they toss in one of their classic twin guitar harmony line segments (the capable Les Dudek assisting) to break up the monotony of Gregg’s lazy vocalizing.
Another of Allman’s compositions, “Jelly Jelly” (also known as “Early Morning Blues”), follows and it’s hardly more than an average slow blues deal that he might’ve thrown together during a bathroom break. Here you can tell that Gregg’s once invincible, strong voice was starting to show signs of weakening from his overindulgence in illicit drugs, a trend that many of us found troubling. To their credit, Allman’s Hammond organ and Leavell’s piano solos are the best parts of this uninspired track but Dickey’s pedestrian guitar ride makes me miss Duane even more. Betts’ “Southbound” is one of the few cuts on this album that owns some of the original ABB personality in that everyone involved sounds like they’re enthused to play on it. Gregg’s vocal has some welcome emotion in it, Dickey redeems himself with two forceful guitar leads and Chuck sizzles on the 88s. The apex of the proceedings arrives in the form of Dickey’s spiffy instrumental, “Jessica.” Let’s call this one a taste of sweet southern jazz that Duane and Barry both would’ve approved of. Leavell’s electric piano takes Duane’s place in the harmonizing melody lines and his acoustic piano ride is the closest they come to anything resembling a thrill on the whole disc. Betts’ extended solo is good yet it does appear that he relies way too heavily on his cliché licks. It’s no “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” by any stretch of the imagination but its clean, tight arrangement helped it become a classic rock radio staple that doesn’t insult your intelligence. Dickey also wrote the closer, “Pony Boy,” a number that would’ve been more at home on his solo album. It’s a cross between authentic Delta blues and hillbilly hokum that leaves me cold. It’s not a total embarrassment but it does go a long way in demonstrating how far they’d strayed from the jazz leanings that made them so special. It seems that their yen for adventure and taking risks left with Duane and Barry because this kind of stuff I find terribly boring.
I’m sure that millions of Allman Brothers Band fans will disagree vehemently with my critical assessment of “Brothers and Sisters” and they would have every right to back up their endorsement of the album with some impressive stats. The record held the #1 position on the charts for five consecutive weeks and “Ramblin’ Man” was a #2 smash on the Top 40 list. To that I say if you judge it by how well it sold and how popular it became with the populace at large then it was obviously a huge success that dwarfed all four albums that preceded it. I offer no argument there. But their most important contribution to the music world was their incorporation of a jazz mentality into their rock & roll art and their stubborn refusal to sell out for a buck. While Duane and Barry were alive the group’s integrity remained intact but that changed with those two founders’ premature deaths. As of this album the ABB became just like hundreds of other musical corporations concerned only with keeping the hit machine humming and the cash flow flowing. But maybe that’s the sole option they felt they had facing the sad situation they found themselves in. I think they took the road most traveled. It was as if the imaginative, colorful magicians had made themselves disappear and the fading carousel was all that was left for the circus roustabouts to maintain. Or, in more practical terms, it was akin to the sexy prom queen ditching her scruffy, bohemian beau and eloping with the flashy quarterback in his fully-stocked limousine. Such a pity.