In the original, yet oft covered classic, "Midnight Rider", singer Gregg Allman evinces an ambiguous threat that drives the main character onward. "I'm not gonna let'em catch me, no. I'm not gonna let'em catch the Midnight Rider," he has decided, regardless of what or who is chasing him.
The task is not glorious. He laments, "I don't own the clothes I'm wearin', and the road goes on forever," giving a bleak picture to both his present circumstance and the Sisyphean task ahead.
These few lines, it can be said, represent the distilled essence of the institution better known as the Allman Brothers Band, who first recorded this staple of their live shows in 1970 for their second album, Idlewild South.
To those who profess to never have heard of the Allman Brothers, "Midnight Rider" and perhaps "Ramblin' Man", from their fourth studio release, 1973's Brothers and Sisters, serve as the go-to rebuttals. "Oh yeah, THEM!" is a common refrain.
Is it a coincidence that the two songs each deal with the theme of moving on to other things? The band's music, and even their history, has followed that same recipe for the past 45 years. Sadly, that journey recently came to an end in New York at the vaunted Beacon Theatre, a venue that has become as synonymous with the Brothers in the last twenty years as had the Fillmore East in the previous twenty-five.
There are deeper and more accurate portrayals of the winding road that the band traveled on- and, yes, off-stage, for those who like a good story. For the purposes of this reflection, I mean only to focus on their craft and its impact on my own musical development.
With two older brothers, I grew up listening to whatever music they listened to, from 80s pop to 90s alternative. It was during the early part of the 90s that I was first introduced to classic rock, which at that time was only 15-25 years "old", i.e. barely "classic". My brothers got me hooked on all of the bands that you can still hear today on your local station: from Led Zeppelin to the Rolling Stones to Pink Floyd to Tom Petty and back again. I fully embraced the genre, and my music collection proves this, being heavily biased toward music that was created before I was.
It was in high school when I decided that I needed a favorite band. And it was one of the first times in my life that I chose to do something different from my brothers and other influences. I chose a band for myself. I chose the Allman Brothers. The decision wasn't particularly based on a deep knowledge of their collection or live performances. In reality, all I was going on was their greatest hits album, but this deliberate choice was empowering. This was MY band now. I was listening to the deeper cuts on that greatest hits album and liked what I heard. It was clear that this was the start of a welcome new friendship.
Among the myriad influences that have contributed to my identity as a music fan and a musician, the Allman Brothers' guitar-centric improvisational fare still resonates. I've learned the main parts of tunes like "Revival", "Black Hearted Woman", "One Way Out", and "Meslissa" and still play around with them to this day. Tunes like "In Memory of Elizabeth Reed" and "Jessica" were literally instrumental in my musical upbringing.
And those live shows! I found joy and awe, listening and watching 20- or 30-minute renditions of "Mountain Jam" or "Whipping Post" and the extended soloing on countless classics, all buttressed by a half-dozen musicians who each had something to offer to the band, to the music, and to the fans. Going to see the band at the Beacon Theatre was a pilgrimage for many, and I was fortunate to make the trip in 2013. The show was phenomenal, as my friend who had never seen them live could attest to himself. The lights, the psychedelic atmosphere, the music, the smiling faces, the singing voices, the harmonies, the medlodies, the rhythms, the peacefulness...... All of this went into an Allman Brothers show and all of it came out of one too.
And so the Allman Brothers Band have moved on. Retrospectives abound online, and memories abound in the hearts and heads of those who were along for the long ride from Macon, Ga to New York City. No earthly road goes on forever, just as no earthly song, no matter how great the music, does. For without an ending, there can be no applause.
Allow us now to stand and applaud.
