The Allman Brothers are a liquid poetry, thrums of the guitar strumming over you. Your own personal connection to the mystic, yours for this night only. Running down your arms and legs, licks a delicious delight. You are caught up in the drive of the guitars, those phantasmic twin guitars, but then you notice the
bass. Actually, you
don't hear it unless you really listen, actually it's the
bass that pulls the song along. Keeping time and sending us the sweetest of vibrations. Did I say keyboards? Gregg's moody touches on his keys punctuating, emphasizing. And JABUMA! Jabuma, Jabuma! Sounds just like what it is, the percussion section, the freakin' percussion section. Can you deny it? Their drums, triple threat, pull you up in a wave and send you along the
beat. Nothing better than a
good drum solo. The Allmans? They are my heartbeat. I live for the first few notes of
Jessica, knowing that I get to hear at least 15 minutes more of joy. The Allmans
woke my
soul. That's how I define them.
