The passing of Forrest Richard ‘Dickey’ Betts not only calls to mind the traditional eulogy-in-song “Another Man Done Gone” but also places us on the threshold of the end of yet another era. The only surviving member of the original lineup of the Allman Brothers Band is now drummer Jai Johanny Johanson, a/k/a/Jaimoe. While that’s a fact that may reside only with the seminal blues rocker’s most avid fans, it is one we all might find worth contemplating.
Still, reflection on the inexorable passage of time is no more worth our thoughts than consideration of the ingenuity the late guitarist/songwriter/vocalist bestowed upon us during his career. Dickey Betts’ name may be familiar to the mainstream audience only through their sole hit single, 1973’s “Ramblin’ Man” or his contentious ouster from the Allmans in 2000, but his legacy will surely grow.
In a very real sense, it’s all well and good to maintain the proper perspective when recalling the man’s somewhat turbulent existence both inside and outside the ranks of the Brothers (see Alan Paul’s 2023 book Brothers and Sisters: The Allman Brothers Band and the Inside Story of the Album That Defined the ’70s).
In both the long term and short term, though, it’s far better that any bitterness remains secondary to the considerable substance of Dickey Betts’ contributions to the group, some but not all of which are multi-faceted likes presented here (roughly chronologically but not necessarily in order of brilliance).
Dickey Betts never seemed to have any problem deferring to Duane Allman. ‘Skydog’ was a robust advocate of his guitar partner, making it a habit of introducing the latter’s “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” in doing so, naming its author, and making the magnificent instrumental a prominent inclusion in ABB setlists beginning in 1970. The organizer and founder of the Allman Brothers may well also have figured in the decision (with producer Tom Dowd) to bookend the first side of the group’s sophomore studio album with that magnificent instrumental and the rousing secular gospel “Revival.”
A paean to jazz icon John Coltrane, “‘Liz Reed” is just the first of many such masterworks composed for the ABB by Dickey Betts. The jubilant instrumental likes of “Jessica” appeared on the same long-player containing the aforementioned mainstream breakthrough of ABB. Brothers and Sisters are both notable for an ebullient air, led by its author, and the piano solo by Chuck Leavell: the combination of their playing fully captures the high-flying atmosphere of both the material and the musicianship.
Besides acting as a reliable catalyst for the ongoing chemistry of the Allman Brothers, Dickey Betts’ most formidable contributions lie in the string of instrumentals he composed throughout his tenure with the group. “Pegasus,” which appeared on the ABB’s 1979 reunion record, Enlightened Rogues, is hardly less majestic than “‘Liz Reed’ or “Jessica,” while “From The Madness of the West” bore the misfortune of showing up on 1980’s Reach For The Sky, the first of two Arista Records releases by the Allmans. Each of those compositions, like “Les Brers in A Minor” on 1972’s Eat A Peach, illustrates the far-reaching improvisational strengths the ABB retained for four and half decades of shifting personnel.
It is not just those wordless pieces of Dickey’s that most distinguish his work with the Brothers, however. Bett’s vocal debut on “Blue Sky” also posits one of the most brilliant intervals of interplay between the author and his fretboard partner, the organizer and founder of the Allman Brothers Band. The double album issued after Duane’s tragic death would not be the halcyon effort it is without those exalting moments when the two guitarists’ mellifluous lines spiral upward to conjure the aural equivalent of euphoria.
Apart from the acoustic guitar backing on “Jessica,” the extent of guitarist Les Dudek’s participation with the Allman Brothers is relegated to the electric fretboard harmonies he matches with Dickey on “Ramblin’ Man.” Still, it’s the bedrock figures from the author on the instrumental ride out of the studio take that confirmed the wisdom of leaving Betts the only guitarist in the lineup: he lifts the collective intensity of the performance to the point it sounds like the Brothers are in the full flight of an extended jam.
The C&W overtones in the Allmans’ sole hit single were so overt that Dickey considered offering the song to country icon Merle Haggard before his bandmates convinced him otherwise. Still more authentic is the feel of a reel Betts used when he took over from Duane at the end of the final Fillmore East concert on June 27, 1971. As on another version of “You’ Don’t Love Me,” from March 13 of that same year, Dickey is hardly intimidated by his counterpart’s depth of passion, daring instead to ascend even higher from where Duane left off and lift the entire band to another, loftier plateau altogether.
Two archival releases from the ABB vault ratify Dickey Betts’ fundamental role in sealing the altered personal and professional bonds of the remaining fivesome following the horrific demise of their leader. On Manley Field House, Syracuse University, April 7, 1972, one of the hundred or so dates the surviving Brothers played as a fivesome, Betts’ singing and playing (including stellar slide work to fill the vacuum of Duane’s playing in that style) are the flashpoint of the newly configured alignment of the band. And it’s wholly appropriate to hear Nassau Coliseum, Uniondale, NY: 5/1/73 as a direct sequel to that release: early in the tour during which the Allman Brothers became widely famous, Dickey sets a tone of collective confidence for the new sextet that had integrated Leavell and bassist Lamar Williams (in place of the deceased Berry Oakley): the ensemble reaches for and attains altogether dizzying heights by the end of a half-hour plus “Mountain Jam.”
Ostensibly reuniting to promote the 1989 release of the epochal box set Dreams, a reconfigured Allman Brothers lineup forged yet another new chemistry, one so abiding the members decided to conduct more extensive road work than initially planned, after which they repaired to the recording studio. Not surprisingly, Dickey Betts’ provocative composition “Seven Turns” became the title of the first effort. He also provided the highpoint of its sequel: Shades of Two Worlds, the tenth ABB studio album, contains the roiling fury of “Nobody Knows,” its nearly eleven minutes overshadowing the somewhat generic instrumental composed by its author with the once and future leader of Gov’t Mule, Warren Haynes.
It’s well to remember that the latter guitarist/vocalist/songwriter was a member of Betts’ band circa 1988’s Pattern Disruptive LP before his mentor brought him into the Allmans fold. The once and future leader of Gov’t Mule would subsequently flourish in a variety of roles for a quarter century to come, proof of his loyalty to the heritage cemented when he oversaw the 2014 release of Play All Night: Live at the Beacon Theatre 1992: as abandoned as it is polished for the duration of both its CDs, the musicianship finds Dickey again at the fore, inspiring his bandmates to reach the pinnacle of that particular lineup’s output.
Before the ABB setlists such as that one calcified in the later Nineties, the group worked assiduously to prevent their most familiar material from sounding stale. Thus, in 1995, the band inserted acoustic intervals into their concerts. Therein, Gregg’s “Melissa” (re) gained prominence but hardly gained more rightful attention than the novelty of a ‘wooden’ arrangement of “‘Liz Reed.” During such performances, the musicians maintained all the scintillating changes in the composition, thus allowing Dickey to pay homage to the great French guitarist and composer Django Reinhardt. Such are the largely inventive likes of Dickey Betts’ gifts to the Allman Brothers Band, without which its mythic status would never have evolved as it has.
2 Responses
Bougainvillea.is a beautiful song. I love Benny goodman and swing music. I swear Db must haha very listened to swing. Sometimes it sounded like he was playing clarinet on guitar.
I am so grateful to read this as someone is finally giving Dickey the credit he deserves. I didn’t follow The ABB after Dickey left; I followed his work instead. For me, after Duane’s death, Dickey was The ABB. Thank you for giving him his due; its way past time.