In the 1970’s, advertisements in practically every issue of Hot Rod magazine teased the specs of various American muscle cars, creating demand that appealed to most adolescent males. The same adolescent males who couldn’t afford such beasts because they worked their tails off at KFC for $3.35/hour, but could afford the Hot Rod magazine (typically around 75 cents), and had the ability to dream. An example: The AMC Rebel—“Not as fast as a 427 cu in Chevrolet Corvette or Chrysler Hemi engine, but it will beat a Volkswagen, a slow freight train, or your old man’s Cadillac.” While garnering the reputation of producing crappy cars, AMC’s Rebel is no slouch, if you can find one. The station wagon version is especially rare. Oddly, the appearance of the Rebel looked more like something Evel Knievel would cruise around in as opposed to the Dukes of Hazzard, and was made in Wisconsin, Canada, Mexico, Australia, and New Zealand. While the roots might be different, perhaps the musical equivalent of these American muscle gems lies in what has been labeled southern rock. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about labels, and how assigning a single word or a short multi-word description oftentimes is an erroneous and inaccurate oversimplification of people, places, and things. Not to mention divisive. Individuals (and groups) are usually much more complex than the resultant one-liner label. In the case at hand, why do we assign these labels to so many musicians that are merely from the south? Lynyrd Skynyrd frontman Ronnie Van Zant gets the label because his band toured with the confederate flag in the 1970’s (and continued do so up until 2012) at the behest of the record company, being told repeatedly it was a symbol of “southern pride” (yet another label). Others see it as a symbol of the racist roots of some southerners (see Neil Young’s Southern Man). However, no such label gets attached to ZZ Top (Texas) or Tom Petty (Gainesville, FL), who also flew the same flag at shows (although the argument can be made for LS not retiring the flag sooner than these others). Also notwithstanding the fact that Van Zant spoke out publically against the segregationist policies of then Alabama Governor George Wallace and supported (as did Gregg Allman) Jimmy Carter for President. I have to think LS might be a much different outfit if Ronnie (the band’s leader) wouldn’t have died in the October 20, 1977 plane crash (age 29).
Ted Danson appeared in blackface with then girlfriend Whoppi Goldberg, as did Howard Stern (doing a bit in blackface as Ted Danson doing blackface), Jimmy Kimmel, and many others, including blackface frequent flyer/aficionado Justin Trudeau. Yet somehow they seem to get a pass from criticism in mainstream media because they are sufficiently apologetic. But who gets to decide what is sufficient or not sufficient? Prince Harry dressed up for a costume party as a Nazi Afrika Korps soldier, complete with the swastika armband. He gets pandered to by Oprah to promote his book (he’s deeply sorry). Just a few years ago, Bill Maher interviewed Ben Sasse, and jokingly called himself the N-word when Sasse suggested he come to Nebraska to “work the fields”. The list goes on and on. Look, the takeaway is everyone makes mistakes, say things they regret, and many individuals are way more complex than any label that might be assigned to them. Most critics generally don’t take the time to move past the label and explore the complexity of the individual, or even attempt to find common ground. This certainly is the case in today’s write up, concerning generally the Allman Brothers Band, and specifically founding member Duane Allman. In 2026, let’s move past the labels (and hypocrisy) and decide for ourselves. It’s also OK for you and me to come to different conclusions. And furthermore, perfectly acceptable (in fact encouraged) to obtain a copy of Live at Fillmore East and crank it up to about 98 db.
It is important to note that the southern rock label assigned to the Allman Brothers Band had nothing to do with any record company stage props. It was mostly because they just happened to be from Jacksonville, FL (same as LS), and lived and recorded at The Big House in Macon, GA. The label was also perpetuated by journalistic clowns such as Grover Lewis, who wrote an article about the band for Rolling Stone (untimely published a few days after Duane’s death). The article is flooded with pot shots about the way band members talked with a southern good ol’ boy drawl (e.g. Gawgia), and referred to them collectively (including one of their drummers (yes, they had 2 drummers) Jaimoe, who happens to be black and as of this writing the only surviving original member of the band, age 81) as Dixie Greasers. Skydog was the nickname given to Duane Allman – a combination of two different nicknames – Dog (given by Muscle Shoals, AL studio founder Rick Hall, for Duane’s long hair and mutton chops), and Skyman (given by Wilson Pickett, for Duane’s over the top guitar playing and use of recreational substances). This book is a comprehensive look at Duane’s life, the time and struggles before forming the Allman Brothers Band, and up to his death in 1971 at the early age of 24. Although the Allman Brothers Band continued to record and make music after Duane’s death by motorcycle accident, without Duane there certainly would have been no Allman Brothers band. The book illustrates the depth of his slide guitar prowess and widespread influence. It also covers his collaboration with many other musicians, including Wilson Pickett, Eric Clapton (Duane wrote the opening guitar riff in Layla), King Curtis, Aretha Franklin, Clarence Carter, Herbie Mann, and Boz Scaggs. Shortly after Duane’s death, the Allman Brothers Band released Eat a Peach, a double album mixed with live and studio recordings, both with and without Duane’s guitar playing. Of course, Capricorn (their record company) suggested the double album be titled The Kind We Grow in Dixie. Rightfully rejecting the proposal, the Allman Brothers Band decided on Eat a Peach, citing a quote from Duane:
“I’m hitting a lick for peace – and every time I’m in Georgia, I eat a peach for peace. But you can’t help the revolution, because there’s just evolution. I understand the need for a lot of changes in the country, but I believe that as soon as everybody can see just a little bit better, and get a little hipper to what’s going on, they’re going to change it. Everybody will – not just the young people. Everybody is going to say, ‘ Man, this stinks. I cannot tolerate the smell of this thing anymore. Let’s eliminate it and get straight with ourselves.’ I believe if everybody does it for themselves, it’ll take care of itself.”
Poe, Randy. Skydog: The Duane Allman Story. Backbeat. 2008.
