This is Lynne’s. She loaned it to me, and David read it while he was here, and I’ve been working my way through it.
First off, it takes me back to a certain time in my life populated by certain people and I miss them.
Second, the book cracks me up because I loved the Allman Brothers, and I saw them live many times, and the very thing they loved about their own band and that their devoted fans loved, drove me crazy. “NOT TWO DRUM SOLOS,” I would beg. “NO NO, NOT ANOTHER GUITAR SOLO, we will never ever ever get out of this concert.” They literally played concerts where they started on one day and ended on the next.
I’m sorry, Allman Brothers. I sucked.
I love the way this writer has compiled the words of the band members and their crew and their handlers and everyone who was part of that world into what is for me a riveting look at myths being dispelled and hard work, perserverence, and talent being the real story here. It’s a Southern story. A blues story. A rock and roll story. And it’s authentic and raw.
Unfortunately, I’ve just gotten to the death of Duane Allman and I’m so sad that I’m taking a little break. I killed a musician once in a novel (yes, unpublished), and I could barely handle it in fiction.
I’ll come back to you, ABB.
I played this song five million times when I was a freshman in college. I do not know how my roommate endured me.