At Fillmore East was the album I jammed every day after school. Was never loud enough. Kept going back to the scorching “Stormy Monday” and the riptide hurricane “Done Somebody Wrong.”
7 songs over 4 sides. And I knew every note, every riff.
And the cover photo. Looked more like a bunch of outlaws than musicians. The Allmans defined Outlaw Music Cool.
Growing up in Florida, the Brothers were part of the heritage, the fabric, the heart and soul of the state. You’d hear them daily on classic rock radio. It all made perfect sense.
My parents told stories about seeing the Allmans at the Fillmore East back in the day. This was around the time of At Fillmore East when the jams would last until sunrise and clouds of pot drifted over the crowd like a late afternoon Florida thunderstorm.
Damn, those boys could play.
Good night Greg, your sweet Southern soul made this world a magical place.