Gregg Allman
Low Country Blues

The blondest bluesman from Tennessee released eight solo albums, the last of which came out posthumously. This one is the seventh, hence the last released during his lifetime, in 2011, six years before he left this world.

It’s a good album… To be honest, Gregg never really thrilled me, but he certainly interested and entertained me. Thanks to his unmistakable voice, that relaxed and almost hieratic playing posture, almost absorbed, that lifesaving reluctance to show off on the organ or piano, more easily leaving space to his guitarists.

Allman was married seven times! He started as early as seventy-one with his first marriage, up to the seventh celebrated thirty years later and destined to mark his personal record of seven years’ duration. The other wives endured one, two, four (Cher), or five years. Why? He used to say: “All of my women loved me for what they thought I was, and I invariably wasn’t…” The discovery of hot water when it comes to women, I can’t help but think.

It’s pointless on this occasion to pick through the twelve tracks, all covers except one, in search of gems. There aren’t any… They all seem to me like very dignified blues reinterpretations, or rhythm & blues, maybe country blues, even rock blues, occasionally even jazz blues, all nicely packaged by a troop of extremely professional musicians, either resident or gathered in a Los Angeles studio for the occasion.

Allman fathered five heirs, but only three of them with any of his wives (“Sette Mogli Per Un Solo Fratello”… well, that could have been an album title!): two of those children he had with other women. He was already a father at eighteen, back in sixty-six! What a guy.

We forgive Gregg for filling this seventh effort with covers: he had already given, abundantly, before, keeping his Allman Brothers Band going for half a century—a name that had long since become inappropriate (the unfortunate virtuoso guitarist brother had already left this world in 1971), hiring hordes of guitarists, bassists, drummers over the years, and revamping the band after every rough patch.

Allman started out as a guitarist; it was big brother Duane who forced him to switch to keyboards because it just wasn’t his thing, especially compared to Duane. The misfortune of being the younger of the pair… in truth, he always loved guitars more than any other instrument.

His worn, boozy, slightly depressed voice undoubtedly remains a landmark of American blues. For me, as I said, he wasn’t a truly great one, but in any case, he’s an artist to thank, remember, listen to now and then, and this record works perfectly for that.

Thank you Gregorio, say hi to Skydog (Duane) if you see him!