There was a time when interviewing Gregg Allman was a dicey proposition. On the handful of occasions I hooked up with him on the phone in the '80s and early '90s, he was at turns aloof, ornery or prone to rambling. When offered the chance to interview him in conjunction with the Sarasota Blues Festival, my first reaction was basically, "Ugh, here we go again."
But even with seasoned music critics, the fanboy usually wins out. The Allman Brothers Band provided a big part of the soundtrack to my youth; its freewheeling improvisational approach acted as a portal to my subsequent passion for jazz. Like all callow young-uns, I at first focused on the dazzling guitar wizardry of Duane Allman and Dickey Betts, but as the years went on, I grew to increasingly appreciate Gregg's contribution: His world-weary blues moan is one of the underrated singing voices in rock annals. Likewise his songwriting — "Melissa," "Midnight Rider," "Whipping Post," "Dreams."
So I signed on for the phoner. What I encountered was a surprise. Allman, 58, came off as a courtly Southern gentlemen, generous with anecdotes, funny in a low-key fashion, in all a genuinely likeable fellow.
I found out later that he's been off alcohol and hard drugs for about 10 years. That, of course, helps. So does not being cannon fodder for the tabloids, like he was during the '70s when he was married to Cher for a spell and his band, one of the most revered on the planet, acrimoniously disintegrated. (Duane Allman and original bassist Berry Oakley died in motorcycle accidents during the early '70s.)
After nearly ending up a has-been in the '80s, Gregg Allman rebuilt his career. The reconstituted Allman Brothers have become elder statesmen of the jam-band scene, while his Gregg Allman Band takes a more song-oriented R&B tack. This year marks the fourth time that the GAB has headlined the Sarasota Blues Fest. He'll be backed by five veteran instrumental aces (including Sarasota keyboardist Neil Larsen), and lusty-voiced blues singer Floyd Miles will also be in tow. Expect the band to perform a broad array of material, and Gregg informs that, "Any Allman Brothers songs will be totally rearranged."
What are the key differences between performing with the Gregg Allman Band and the Allman Brothers Band?
With the Brothers, there's, uh, a lot of head chefs, you know what I mean? (Laughs) There are certain things expected of us, so there are sometimes more barriers when playing that music. With my band, I've got pretty tight arrangements. We start rehearsals on Saturday. I'm a great believer in rehearsal, where all the tunes come together; that's where the magic is. With the Brothers, I can't remember the last time we rehearsed. We do take new songs out and road test 'em before we cut a record.
Used to be that bands would tour to generate sales of their new album. Now it seems, especially with bands like the Allman Brothers, that the touring is where the money is.
With us it's pretty much always been like that. My least favorite subject is record companies. I don't wanna get into naming a bunch of names.
We've tried to keep ticket prices reasonable. I remember when we charged $3.50. Every now and then I'll check how much tickets are and it's "God, jeez, Barbra Streisand tickets cost like $7,000."
As the only guy in the Allman Brothers named Allman, would you consider yourself the leader of that band?
Well, I never wanted to be. My brother [Duane] was a born leader. He was a triple Scorpio, the first to face the fire. I was kinda the more introverted type person, who set in shadows and wrote songs. Over the years I've had to become — someone's got to lead the stuff. With my brother, if something wasn't happening he'd stir something up. He was a natural. [In recent years] the three original members who are left (Allman and drummers Butch Trucks and Jaimoe), we sit down and talk more. And we came to the decision about the man we had to let go [guitarist Dickey Betts]. I never thought anybody would be fired from the band, but I don't want to get into that whole thing.
But it doesn't sound like you rule with an iron fist. You take input from the younger guys.
I always say that when you've got problems coming from outside the band you can fight off anything, but when shit starts inside the band, it's the beginning of the end. The younger players, I listen to 'em 'cause they got open minds and very good ideas, good values, stuff like that. I am the last one to say you can't learn from other people.
I always tell my younger friends who are jam-band fans that they should listen to the Allman Brothers' At Fillmore East like 27 times before they even talk to me about any of the newer acts. The rise of the jam-band scene appears to have done right by the Allman Brothers.
I think it's wonderful, man. When the '80s came along, that was not a good time. I cut a couple records, cut "I'm No Angel" in '86. I mean, I had to play, y'know, but it was like biker bars and every now and then an opera house. It was some rough times, with the onslaught of electronic music, the canned drums. Still, there were people who liked to listen to the blues and good old rock 'n' roll. Then some very intelligent man raised his hand and said he was gonna start a classic rock station. [ABB] got back together in '89, right at the onslaught of classic rock stations.
Did at any point you think your career might be over?
Yeah, I hoped it wasn't but I thought, "Well maybe that's about it." And I also thought, "What a drag. Maybe we should've stopped while we were on top." But then I would've had to get a job. (Laughs)
I've always heard that Duane was very influenced by John Coltrane and other jazz musicians. Did you listen to jazz?
Not so much comin' up. I was listening mostly to rhythm and blues. I met Floyd Miles, who's now in my band, and he's probably the reason that I'm singing. I used to play lead guitar. Duane [who was a year older] played rhythm guitar and he sang. Duane wasn't a helluva singer.
I actually started playing guitar first. I remember he bought this Harley and he'd always be riding it around, and then he started looking at my guitar. "What ya got there, little bro'?" I showed him the skeletal three chords, the 12-bar changes that I had learned. Man, we'd fight over that guitar. My mother had to get him one to keep the peace in the house.
He quickly passed me up like I was standin' still. I was surrounded by guitar players, so I figured to keep a job I'd have to start singing or hit the bricks. I was gonna play with my brother. I always felt kinda safe around him. You grow up without a father and you look up to your big bro' as a father figure. I actually have the tapes of one of the first nights I had to sing. Believe me, man, it's just atrocious.
You got pretty good pretty quick. How did you develop as a singer?
We did about seven to nine years of the chitlin circuit — The Allman Joys and Hourglass. Then I went to L.A. and Duane started doing a lot of studio work. On March 26, 1969, my brother called me up and said he'd got this group of guys together, that he was tired of being a robot in the studio and wanted to get back into the giggin' business.
He and Jaimoe pretty well built the band. He said he had two drummers. I was like, "Holy train wreck, Batman." He said he had another good lead guitar player [Betts]. I said, "What the hell do you want me to do?" He said, "I'll show you when you get here."
They said they'd send me a plane ticket [to get back East], but I put my thumb out and got a ride on the San Bernadino Freeway and made it all the way to Jacksonville to Butch Trucks' house. When I got there, they said, "Oh, by the way, you're gonna have to play B-3 Hammond [organ]. I had set down at one exactly three times, and one of those times I wrote the song "Dreams."
They hadn't heard it yet. I had 22 songs, and I played 'em a few and they'd be ho-hum, "What else ya got, bro'?" I was starting to drop little peach seeds in my pants.
Then I laid "Dreams" on 'em. We learned it right then and there, in a matter of hours. Just like that, I was a respected writer. Most guitar players love to solo over that song because it's not 4/4; it's waltz time and it's at a tempo where you can get your teeth in it. It's off the beaten path of a regular blues song.
The week that followed was about the happiest week of my life. I belonged again. I wrote "Whipping Post" one day, "Black Hearted Woman" the next day, "Every Hungry Woman." I put out a lot of songs in a matter of three weeks.
So you became the writer and lead singer in a band that had two lead guitarists and two drummers. Did you have a hand in developing those trademark twin guitar harmonies?
They were pretty much doing the double guitar thing when I got there, and they were obviously the only ones doing that. There was a band called Clear Light with Dallas Taylor that had two drummers, but I don't think Duane and them got the idea there. Two full sets of trap drums and percussion is hard to pull off. I'd played with other [bands] that had two drummers and it flat didn't work.
A lot of bands copied the twin guitar harmonies, but it rarely sounded right. I always thought it sounded too perfect.
That's right, too perfect. Man, Duane and Dickey used to rehearse those parts over and over so as not to have it like that. It came out natural, like part of their skin. They just let it ooze out, both the dual guitars and the drums.
This article appears in Oct 25-31, 2006.