A while back, I wrote a piece about the Allman Brothers’ debut album and the nude photograph on the inside cover. That article has been shared a few places and it’s brought me some traffic from people who don’t normally visit the site. One of those visitors didn’t particularly care for my interpretation of the photo and the surroundings, so he’s contributed a guest post to set me (and some other folks) straight about what happened. “If this stuff brings one more person into the fold of the brilliance these six men displayed and created,” he wrote to me, “I’d be more than satisfied.” Please give a warm welcome to Craig! — jb
Brothers Duane and Gregg, musically speaking, started out in Daytona Beach in the sixties with what would have been a ‘teen band of the day’ playing a mix of pop, R&B and blue-eyed soul as the Escorts. Then came the Allman Joys period, which was when they came to the attention of John and Bill McEuen. John was a member of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and Bill managed that outfit. At the time they were ‘discovered’ by Bill, the Allman Joys were in St. Louis, where the band maintained a good following. McEuen told them he could get them signed if they’d be willing to move out to Los Angeles. They left as the Allman Joys and headed for the West Coast. By the time they’d signed and recorded their first LP for Liberty Records, they had become the Hour Glass. In 1967, when they landed in California, there was another band based in San Francisco called Allmen Joy. It’s my assumption (although not verified) that this is what brought about the name change from the Allman Joys to the Hour Glass. Duane and Gregg’s roots were blues, soul and R&B, which they heard as kids growing up in Nashville. Liberty’s idea for them was centered on having Gregg as the star and focal point of the band. That in itself was a great idea since Gregg was blessed with an incredible voice as a singer. However, Liberty also dictated what they’d play. The first album was mostly material that Liberty held the copyrights to (more money for the label if the band was a hit).
Hey everybody! I’m in the desert driving some Mustangs today. Please give a warm welcome to Ronnie and check out his story of a forgotten bluesman — JB
How would you feel if you have had a meaningful career in your chosen field, with some level of success and fame, but one of your greatest accomplishments was attributed to someone else? Robbed of due credit? For sure. However, what if the person being wrongly attributed was a giant in your field? Wouldn’t that be sort of a backhanded compliment?
My Ford Taurus Limited review on TTAC yesterday mentioned that the purpose of my 1,014-mile rental was a trip to Victor Wooten’s “Wooten Woods Bass And Nature Camp”. Insofar as the site is called The Truth About Cars and not The Truth About Bass And Nature Camps there wasn’t much room available to discuss my experience at Wooten Woods. Luckily for meall of us, I have this blog where I can exhaustively discuss my near-complete failure at being a “jammer”.
TTAC published a link to the “Daily Kanban” yesterday. My initial response to this development was negative. As many of you know, Bertel Schmitt fired me from the site a few years ago only to see me first reinstated against his wishes then selected as his replacement. Many of you also know that I’ve had a fractious relationship with Ed Niedermeyer and his father, both of whom have contributed lengthy comments to this site on those matters.
I doubt that you have seventeen minutes of your life to spend watching the above video, but it’s an outstanding tutorial on how to sell a product: Demonstrate the capabilities in short bursts with a little bit of explanation, keep the pace up. It helps that this fellow has some chops and can easily copy the riffs for which each patch is designed.
The nice people at Hello Music put the Eventide H9 Max on sale yesterday, and it was possible to stack one discount on top of another, so after listening to the seventeen-minute demo (twice, in the background, while I worked on my day job) I ordered the H9 MAX. I figured it would be worth it for the ability to easily duplicate the Allman Brothers harmony solo lines — something my Digitech Whammy is theoretically capable of doing but in practice can’t accomplish.
There’s just one little problem, for me in particular and for America in general.
Having dug Bibi’s grave and prepared a thousand funeral speeches, the American media must be surprised to find him very much alive. What a shame, to not be able to write election results in other countries the way it’s done here! What a shame that braying the word “racist” a million times didn’t sway Israeli voters the way it terrifies white Americans into voting for a candidate solely on the racist basis of that candidate’s skin color! What a shame that Israelis would prefer to determine their own foreign and domestic policies instead of listening to Mr. Obama’s sanctified words!
If you have been reading this blog for a while, you know I consider myself to be engaged in the pursuit of reality. This sounds like it should be an easy task — think of Samuel Johnson kicking a rock and declaring, “I refute it thus!” — but that is not the case, to put it mildly. To begin with, Johnson’s famous kicking-of-the-rock looks very different at an atomic and quantum level than it did to him; everything in our universe consists mostly of empty space. Or so I believe, anyway. I’ve never personally undertaken any science experiment that couldn’t be performed in a high school laboratory. What I believe to be “real” is two percent my own observation and ninety-eight percent received knowledge, obtained from my uneasy perch on the shoulders of Isaac Newton’s giants.
While I can lecture you for hours on everything from the Doppler effect to the velocity of money in a modern economy, the subjects of which I possess a true and complete personal knowledge are minimal. I assure you that you are no different from me in this regard. Consider, if you will, the ridicule that the Insane Clown Posse got for asking how magnets work in a video. Here’s a good example of the progressive response to the ICP. This social justice warrior spends his days fighting against the “conservative war on science” and it’s obvious that he considers himself to be quite the intellectual.
I wonder if he knows how magnets work. If he does, he’s alone in the world, because magnetism is not well understood. When Maya Angelou wrote that “Talent is like electricity. We don’t understand electricity. We use it,” what she really meant was that she does not understand electricity. I understand it just fine and so do most people with a college education. You can explain it to a ten year old. But that doesn’t mean that we understand magnetism, which is a horse of a different color and which has roots in dimly understood corners of quantum mechanics. (By the way, if you ever want an example to demonstrate the chokehold that progressives have on the public discourse, the difference between the way the press has treated the ICP’s factual statement (total ridicule) and the way it has treated Ms. Angelou’s ignorant statement (fawning admiration) is a good place to start.)
Still, when I say that “I understand [electricity] just fine,” what I mean is that I believe the explanations I’ve been given. I haven’t worked out the behavior of free electrons from first principles and scientific observation. I’m relying on a trust chain between myself and the people who have done the work. That trust chain should be a lot more fragile than it is, methinks. Throeau’s old comment about “we may safely trust a great deal more than we do” should not apply to the way all of us will believe just any fucking thing when it comes to “science” and what “science says”. We’re all so trusting it makes me sick. We willingly trust everything and anyone from the repair crew on a Southwest 737 to the 23-year-old who hands you a prescription through the window. Humans trust far too much because to behave any other way would require an outlay of time and energy that nobody, with the possible exception of titled aristocrats dabbling in science, has had since the fall of Man.
I think you get the idea. Reality is a lot harder to grasp than one would originally think. But compared to authenticity, reality is the first level of Donkey Kong. Exhibits A and B in support, Your Honor: Amelia Amethyst Kelly and James Lewis Carter Ford.
My little pop-up WordPress blog with noted foodie Jill Moorhead seems to be going pretty well. Jill is just now returning from a long business trip so the balance of food-to-cars stories should tilt back to equilibrium shortly. While she was gone, however, she managed to score a bit of a blogosphere coup.