Published on Feb 16, 1997
So how vast
is the now-legendary Pierce Memorial Archives, you ask?
Put it this way – every once in a while, while walking its
aisles, I discover shit I don’t ever remember buying. Case in point
is today’s album from the legendary Allman Brothers Band,
Idlewild South.
Duane and Gregg Allman’s band were building up quite a
reputation for themselves as a live group, as well as for their
musicianship. With this release, the band explored not only blues,
but gospel and free-form rock (jazz?). If only they had settled on
one particular style, this album would have worked much better.
The opening cut, “Revival,” is the gospel tinge to the album,
which shows how good Gregg’s pipes can sound. The backing vocals
are not credited on the album jacket (maybe Polygram fixed this
when they obtained the rights for the album), but they add just the
right touch to the song.
The highlight for me on this one is “Midnight Rider,” which some
people may recognize from a beer commercial some years ago. The
dual guitars of Duane Allman and Dickey Betts complement each other
so well on this one, three minutes of the most beautiful music I’ve
heard.
Things start to bog down on “In Memory Of Elizabeth Reed,” an
instrumental that has become a live favorite of the band. While the
live version is always something special to hear, the studio
version sounds cramped and forced. It is on this song that I hear
some jazz tinges in the music as the band tries to free-flow in a
mere seven minutes. The sad fact is, this song is at its best when
it doesn’t have time constraints on it – a similar example being
“Dark Star” by the Grateful Dead, a “brother of the road” of the
Allmans. (There are tapes of Dead shows, one of which I have, which
feature Duane and Gregg jamming with the band.)
The second half of
Idlewild South is the bluesiest, but it is also the weaker
of the two (not to mention short, at just over 13 minutes). Berry
Oakley takes a turn at the lead vocal microphone on “Hoochie
Coochie Man,” but his voice is nowhere near as powerful as Gregg
Allman’s. In turn, this cover of Willie Dixon’s classic
suffers.
The remaining two tracks, regrettably, are standard fare,
“Please Call Home” and “Leave My Blues At Home.” The work of the
brothers Allman has been better than this side – or album, for that
matter – proves.
Oh, sure, the Allmans would go on to record their classic live
album at the Fillmore East, and they would twice be able to turn
triumph into tragedy to create two of their best albums. But
Idlewild South is a portrait of what could have been – this
could have been one of the greatest modern blues albums, if only
the band had allowed themselves to feel more free in the
studio.