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Showing posts with label Rembrances. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rembrances. Show all posts

Saturday, May 27, 2017

Remembering Gregg Allman



I am saddened, although neither shocked nor stunned, by today’s death of Gregg Allman. In fact, I am somewhat surprised, with all his substance abuse and health problems, he lasted this long. I was moved much more by the death, 46 years ago now, of his brother Duane in a motorcycle accident.

I will admit to not succumbing to the musical expertise of the Allman Brothers until I stumbled upon their second album, Idlewild South, in 1970 and between then and Duane’s death in October, 1971, I tried to see their in-concert performances whenever I could.

I will also admit to liking bits and pieces of the Allmans’s catalog that followed, songs such as Blue Sky, Come and Go Blues, Jessica, Wasted Words (all from 1973), Seven Turns (1990), and especially No One to Run With and Soulshine (1994) as well as much of the 2003 album Hittin’ the Note. But there was nothing to equal that early 1970s output with Duane that included Dreams, Whipping Post, In Memory of Elizabeth Reed, Midnight Rider, Revival, Done Somebody Wrong, Hot ‘Lanta, Statesboro Blues, Stormy Monday, One Way Out and Trouble No More.

In fact what sticks in my memory the most about Gregg is the story about his causing a scene in a restaurant by fainting in a plate a spaghetti during a dinner with then-wife Cher.

But it seemed Gregg was always on a self-destructive path and, as I said earlier, I am mildly surprised he lived until the age of 69. My younger brother, born the year before Gregg and the person responsible for introducing me to the Allman Brothers Band, embarked on a similar life’s journey and died 30 years ago. Allman became addicted to heroin in the early 1970s and was arrested on drug charges in 1976. He avoided jail time by testifying against one of the band’s road managers, who was sentenced to 75 years in prison. That move alienated Gregg from the rest of the band. His alcohol abuse reached its peak in the 1980s, when, while living with friends in Sarasota, Fla., it was reported he was drinking at least a fifth of vodka a day. He was arrested during that time, charged with DUI and spent five days in jail. In the late 1980s he moved to Los Angeles, living at and overdosing at a place called the Riot House. The Allman Brothers Band was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1995, but Gregg was so inebriated he could not make it through his acceptance speech. He later wrote in his autobiography that he was so mortified when he saw that event on later television broadcast, that he hired two in-home nurses working round-the-clock shifts to help him get over his alcohol and drug addictions.

He was diagnosed with Hepatitis C, which he blamed on a dirty tattoo needle. In 2008, doctors discovered three tumors in his liver and in 2010 he underwent a successful liver transplant. At the beginning of the following year, he released a decent solo album, Low Country Blues, but had to cancel a European promotional tour for the album because of upper respiratory problems. In 2012 he went into rehab because of addictions he developed following medical treatments.

The above video shows the Allman Brothers Band at their best, with Duane on lead guitar and Gregg on vocal and keyboards. I guess the word I will always associate with the Allman Brothers Band and Gregg Allman is "if."

Friday, February 20, 2009

Turn it on, wind it up, blow it out GTO

The first new car I ever owned was a 1969 Pontiac GTO. All my cars before that one had been used, a '49 Chevy, a '52 Kaiser, a '55 Ford, and a '63 Ford. But that GTO was some stylin' car. Right after I bought it, my girlfriend at the time and I decided to make an extended car trip, triggered by the fact that we learned the original New York Cast of "Hair" (which included Diane Keaton) was moving to Los Angeles. I purchased a pair of opening week tickets and we planned our entire road trip around seeing "Hair."

That trip resulted in a number of firsts for me -- my first visits to the Grand Canyon, Hoover Dam, Las Vegas, the Hearst Castle and Salt Lake City. I remember driving the GTO north from Flagstaff to the Grand Canyon thinking "I'm going a long way out of my way just to see a hole in the ground." That "hole" turned out to be one of the most awe-inducing sights I've ever seen and, as a result, I now make regular pilgrimages to the Grand Canyon.

Anyway, I thought about that adventure in that particular car today when I read this New York Times story about the demise of the Pontiac as a stand-alone GM division. The Pontiac used to be a great American car and I'm betting just about everyone over 50 has some kind of memories associated with a Pontiac. Can't honestly say I'm going to miss the Pontiac -- I really never thought of getting another one after that original GTO. But I will always remember my first new car and how it took me to my first Grand Canyon experience and to see Diane Keaton live and totally nude in "Hair."

"Take it out to Pomona and let 'em know that I'm the coolest thing around. Little buddy, gonna shut you down when I turn it on, wind it, blow it out GTO. Wa-Wa ....."

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Odetta

Harry Belafonte introduced me to Odetta. Well, not personally. It was not Harry coming up to me and saying "Pete, I've got someone I want you to meet." Nothing like that.

It was in the 1950s and as Dick Clark was doing everything he could possibly do to kill rock 'n' roll, I found myself venturing into the realms of folk music. Nothing heavy at first, kinda like my experiments with controlled substances. Harry Belafonte's album "Calypso" was a big influence so I went to see him in concert when he played Carnegie Hall. He had two other performers singing with him during his show, Miriam Makeba and Odetta.

I vividly remember sitting there utterly transfixed as Odetta sang "Water Boy." Spellbinding. I would have followed that voice anywhere. I had a lot of satisfaction learning later that Bob Dylan ventured into folk music upon hearing Odetta sing.

Odetta died earlier today. She was was 77. In this tribute for the New York Times, writer Tim Weiner concentrates on Odetta's contributions to the civil rights movement. I'll always remember her, however, for one song sung one night 50 years ago in Carnegie Hall. That she left such an indelible memory says more than any other words possibly could.