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Nov 1, 1995 Straight-up performances of Chicago blues rarely make for particularly great video moments — the music is usually predictable, and the performers usually care more about getting the vibe right than putting on a feast for the eyes. Similarly, The Allman Brothers Band, despite being one of the greatest live acts in «roots-rock» music, are usually best appreciated when heard rather than seen. There is only a tiny handful of poor quality footage of them from their legendary days with brother Duane (most notably this chunk from a show at the Fillmore in 1970), and much of the post-Duane material ranges from capturing them in a sloppy state on a bad day to steady, reliable footage-for-the-fans, where you can admire the professionalism and discipline but don’t often get to be caught up in the fun of it. There are exceptions, though, and for some odd reason, the one performance I constantly catch myself coming back to, over and over again, is not a ʽWhippin’ Post’ or a ʽMemory Of Elizabeth Reed’, but this straightforward rendition of the old Willie Dixon blues called ʽThe Same Thing’, whose best-known version was arguably recorded by Muddy Waters thirty years before this particular show. It was a regular presence in the band’s setlist through the early years of their comeback period in the 1990s (you can find a high-quality audio version on their 2nd Set live album from the same years); later, after the departure of Dickey Betts, it would be resurrected once again, with heavy support from a brass section, but it would never again sound as jaw-droppingly awesome as it does here. The Allmans’ comeback may not have resulted in a ton of new classics (although those early 1990s albums are generally a lot of fun), but as a stage band, they never sounded that good ever since brother Duane hit the skies, largely due to the fresh blood of Warren Haynes — the guy who had the rare talent to inventively push the old musical genre forward while generally staying firmly within the established formula; meanwhile, Gregg Allman and particularly Dickey Betts were the remaining anchors of the band’s former greatness. (As much as I like and respect Derek Trucks, it is impossible not to notice that after he replaced Dickey, the band became a fairly different entity altogether). That said, Dickey was not always a reliable anchor, with his constant substance abuse problems and general instability — hard to believe after you see him giving out 100% like he does here, I know, yet there had to be a reason why he was sacked in the end. In any case, it’s great to have aural and visual memories like these; and for what it’s worth, The Allman Brothers Band live before a small audience in a TV or radio studio feels like a better proposal than The Allman Brothers Band live in a stadium environment, or even in a club environment, because the one thing they do have in common with art- and prog-rock is that it pays off to quietly sit and attentively watch these guys play while your jaw slowly sinks to the floor, rather than use every opportunity to just headbang. There are so many subtle nuances, so much intricate dynamics going on between all the players, it’s almost like a crime to miss it, and if you’re there to simply «have a good time», you’re not getting your money’s worth...
