Allman Brothers Rise Above Turmoil, Keep Their Edge

“When I was younger,

I was hard to hold;

“I was always blowing whichever

way the wind would blow.

“Now that travelin’ feeling’s

got me back again,

“Callin’ me back to where

it all begins.”

For Dickey Betts, it begins on the road, with the Allman Brothers Band.

“I wrote that song for the audience,” the ABB singer-guitarist says of his tune “Back Where It all Begins.”

“It just tells people to go out and see the world, and have some fun. And when you finally find what you’re looking for, it will probably be not too far from where you started.”

Sitting in Room 1313 of his Times Square hotel (like Howlin’ Wolf, he ain’t superstitious), Betts is back in the city that has witnessed the greatest triumphs of the Allmans’ quarter-century career.

On Mother’s Day, he and the Brothers launched a six-night sold-out stand at the 6,000-seat Radio City Music Hall. The extended series of performances was timed to coincide with the release of “2nd Set” (Epic), a sequel to 1992’s “An Evening With the Allman Brothers Band” and further evidence of the Allmans’ ever-more-impressive renaissance.

It was in New York in 1971 that the band of Macon, Ga., longhairs - Betts, organist and blues-growler Gregg Allman, drummers Butch Trucks and Jai Johanny Johanson, all currently with the group; plus slide-guitar legend Duane Allman and bassist Berry Oakley, who have since died - recorded “The Allman Brothers Band at Fillmore East,” considered by many the greatest live rock LP ever made.

It was here, in 1992, that the reformed edition of the band - which since 1989 has included bassist Allen Woody, slide player Warren Haynes and percussionist Marc Quinones - hit its stride with 10 shows at the Beacon Theater. And it was at Manhattan’s Waldorf-Astoria in January that the Allmans entered the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in their first year of eligibility, and were lauded in an induction speech by Willie Nelson as simply “rock ‘n’ roll’s greatest jammin’ blues band.”

So it was natural for the Allmans to begin their summer tour of amphitheaters, festivals and arenas with a series of shows in the relatively cozy Radio City.

“With an intimate setting like this, it’s easier to connect with the crowd,” says Betts, 52, wearing his trademark straw cowboy hat and puffing on Marlboros as he sits with Woody, the group’s most talkative member. (Gregg Allman remains notoriously interview-shy.)

At Radio City, the vibe was relaxed and appreciative from a crowd that was a mix of old hippies and young, clean-cut recent converts. With a low-rent psychedelic light show projected behind them, the Allmans cut loose with a three-hour show that has moments of indulgence but never strays from its expertly finessed, jazzy, bluesy groove.

Button-downs and tie-dyes alike shook themselves silly in the aisles or stood with their Walkman microphones in the air (taping with the band’s permission), joyously in the thrall of these vital godfathers of the burgeoning movement Betts likes to call “jam-rock.”

That the Allmans have progressed to this level of renewed popularity - and have done so while maintaining a high level of creative musicianship - is one of the great tales in rock ‘n’ roll survival.

The band’s troubles are legendary. For starters, there were the motorcycle deaths of Allman and Oakley, just a year apart on parallel streets in Macon in 1971 and 1972. Squabbling between Gregg Allman, Betts and other band members has led to numerous public breakups and reunions.

“We’re like a big dysfunctional family,” Betts says. “But we get along all right.”

There have been repeated trips to detox centers, lawsuits against record companies, and lots of bad solo albums. (“Allman and Woman,” Gregg’s duets record with then-spouse Cher in the mid-‘70s, is one notable low point.)

Even since the band began its renewed rise with 1989’s “Seven Turns,” there have been slip-backs. In July 1993, Betts was arrested in Saratoga Springs, N.Y., after an altercation with his third wife, Donna. Though he spent only one night in jail, the band played with replacement guitarists for three months.

In the early years, when “Eat a Peach” (1972) and “Brothers and Sisters” (1973) yielded Allman classics such as Gregg’s aching “Melissa” and Betts’ “Ramblin’ Man” (the band’s biggest AM radio hit), the group was tagged as the leader of the Southern-rock movement that also included Lynyrd Skynyrd, the Marshall Tucker Band and Charlie Daniels. It’s a label with which the band was never entirely comfortable, say Betts and Woody.

In the six years the band has been back together, its popularity has swelled, and its two-set shows have drawn increasing numbers of fans who follow the group from town to town, Grateful Dead-style.

The Allmans’ albums have also grown more impressive: Last year’s “Where It All Begins” was filled with fully realized songs - Haynes’ “Soulshine,” Allman’s confessional blues “All Night Train.” It’s the band’s best studio album in a couple of decades.

“This current version of the band is every bit as good as the original band,” Betts says. “It’s 25 years later, so it’s different, but it’s just as good.”