It first seemed perplexing for the theme from Rocky to waft out over the sound system while the Allman Betts Band assumed their positions on a stage in maximum darkness April 5th at Stowe Vermont’s Spruce Peak Performing Arts Center. However, when the septet took a bow together two and quarter hours later, it made perfect sense to have listened to a song subtitled “Gonna Fly Now.” The fledgling group had risen to the occasion.
In fact, on this early tour stop of a mammoth itinerary, the ABB tested its mettle and passed a potential trial-by-fire with flying colors. Not that a generally long-in-the-tooth audience wasn’t primed to give this newly-conceived collaboration the benefit of the doubt: the air of expectancy was all too similar to that of New York’s Beacon Theatre during the latter days of Allman Brothers Band’s spring runs. But Allman Betts exhibited some genuinely professional savvy in Stowe, Vermont, affirming its solidarity as an instrumental ensemble, suggested it is developing some formidable songwriting talent and, perhaps most important of all, declaring in no uncertain terms it is not intimidated by its lineage as direct descendants of the aforementioned seminal Southern rockers.
On the contrary, as fronted by Gregg’s son Devon, guitarist Dickie Betts’ offspring Duane and original bassist Berry Oakley’s namesake Berry Jr., the Allman Betts Band courageously embraces its history. Thus, an approach that might’ve seemed tentative eventually turned out as pragmatic as it was purposeful. Short sharp takes on “Blue Sky” and “Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More” not only allowed guitarist Johnny Stachela to demonstrate how facile he is with a slide, but how fluid are his interactions with Betts (who proffered himself early on as an ever-so-patient soloist).
This couplet from Eat A Peach furthered the measured pacing of a single set that began with a small handful of selections from the group’s first studio album, set for release in late June, which is where the musicianly unity of ABB actually first became apparent. On the unusual tempo and chord changes of originals like “Melodies Are Memories,” the group almost imperceptibly shifted gears into an intensity that carried over into the tunes soon to follow and on to even more courageous choices later in the evening: “Dreams” and “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” once again featured not just the delicate and harmonious precision of Betts and Stachela, but on the former, Allman set the tone with his own terse, biting solo. It was the first of three such segments that extended the number and elicited the rowdiest response of the night (in a series of increasingly noisy ones) from the throng that occupied the sold-out venue.
The Allman Betts Band demonstrated such a deft grasp of dynamics throughout the evening, the absence of any straight blues was no more noticeable than the light show was distracting (even when colorful abstractions gave way to music video cliches). Integrating Devon’s instrumental “Mahalo”–and his crowd-pleasing jaunt through the audience on a wireless instrument–with a selection from Duane’s 2018 EP, “Taking Time,” this alignment exhibited a confidence in its own skill(s) that may one day allow them to fully stand apart from their ancestors. And lest it seems it all the action revolved around the namesakes of the group, it was, in fact, the melodic grace of Oakley and rhythmic nuances of drummer/percussionists R. Scott Bryan and John Lum that established the rhythmic foundation for the famous instrumental centerpiece of Idlewild South that closed the set proper. (Would that the rich mix of instruments in those moments been so clearly defined all evening).
John Ginty’s Hammond organ solo within that tune was laced with a passion similar to the gently restrained likes of which he also imbued his piano playing during “Multi-Colored Lady.” Continuing to sing in a style distinctly different from his dad’s, Devon’s honestly sentimental cull from his father’s Laid Back album was just one of the clutch of numbers proffered by the four guitarists perched on stools stage front and center in a semi-acoustic mini-set that contributed mightily to the overall flow of the show. The logic permeating the song sequence again became manifest with Allman’s hard-edged reading of the late Tom Petty’s “You Got Lucky:” it corresponded to Duane’s quietly authoritative rendering of his own father’s “Seven Turns.”
The pseudo-mystical/philosophical bent of that tune (which supplied the title for the Allman Brothers first studio effort following their 1989 reunion) was just one of a handful including the night’s closer, tendered with a similar theme; a cover of Dire Straits’ “Walk of Life;” replete with all the good-humor intended by its author, this number of Mark Knopfler’s might’ve seemed a non-sequitur had it not echoed those very same thoughts on the vagaries of life, as rendered by The Allman Betts Band in near-uproarious harmony with the delighted assembly on its feet before them.
Quite likely there was no attendee of the four-hundred plus on hand that wouldn’t go see ABB circa 2019 again. And, judging by titular spokesperson Allman’s multiple expressions of genuine gratitude to that capacity crowd—he can be as voluble as his uncle Duane!– the group itself would hardly be averse to returning to the Green Mountains, especially if they could still elicit comparably clamorous acclamation while relying as much (or more) on their original songs as classic tunes of their iconic forebears. The time spent at the Spruce Peak Performing Arts Center hinted the Allman Betts Band possesses the courage to make such an independent move and the mammoth tour upon which they’ve just embarked may very well nurture that bravery.
Photos Courtesy Ross Mickel/Bootleggers Beware Photography
