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My New Year's
Dilemma - Home for the Holidays
Each year, live
music fans have numerous choices of where to spend their New Year's
Eve. Many bands are known to perform their "show of the year"
on the night known as one giant party worldwide. Some bands follow
tradition, performing at the same venue annually, while others move
around, accompanied by their fans, to new venues, year after year.
For most of
my adult life, my New Year's Eve has been pre-planned by the first
of January. As I staggered out of Widespread Panic's mammoth performances
each year, I knew my year would end just where it began, with my
Panic friends and family. For 14 consecutive years, from 1987 through
2000, there was no place in the world I'd rather be.
Some years,
such as in 1994, I did want to be in two places at once, as Gov't
Mule opened for the Aquarium Rescue Unit at the Georgia Theatre,
which was close to home, not to mention where I'd spent my previous
three New Years with Panic. I heard the call of Mule again in 1997,
with an invitation in hand for not only a free show at the tiny
Hard Rock club in Atlanta, but also free drinks and access to the
evening's catering. But still, Panic owned my heart, and nothing
could keep me from The Fox.
Eight years
later, I find myself in a peculiar situation; faced with the dilemma
of choosing among shows by five of my six favorite bands of all
time. Never before have I considered so many different options as
to where to spend the last night of the year.
The first show
to catch my eye was The Black Crowes, long one of my favorites,
at Madison Square Garden. For some reason, few of my friends have
ever shared my passion for their music, at least until this past
May, when the re-formed Crowes played the finest run of shows I
saw all year, at The Tabernacle in Atlanta. My wife and best friend,
the Rev. Buddy Greene, were both left asking, "When did this
band become THIS good?" Not only will this show mark The Crowes
debut at the Garden, it will also be the band's first ever New Year's
Eve performance. But still, other options loomed
Panic, of course,
was a consideration, even though the band no longer plays the huge
role they once did in my life since my dear friend Mikey checked
out of this world to join the house band in Heaven. While the possibility
of staying home and not traveling did seem grand, reflections of
the Panic shows I've seen this year left this show as less than
option #1. While George may indeed "play a mean guitar,"
the pace of his playing is just too frantic for my taste, taking
away from the intricate subtleties of the music that, for half of
my existence, had served as the soundtrack to my life.
On a side note,
I was thrilled to learn of Panic's plans for the Tunes for Tots
benefit at the Roxy on December 29. Not only does this allow me
the opportunity to reminisce of days gone by, the $300 price tag
on my ticket stub sure goes a long way towards repaying the band
for those hundreds of free $5 shows I enjoyed for so many years.
My next thoughts
turned to California, where I spent 2001 and 2002 with Phil Lesh
and his friends. While I went to California with some trepidation
in 2001, unsure what life would have in store for me if I failed
to ring in the New Year with Panic, the show Phil and his Quintet
delivered that night remains one of my ten favorite of all time,
ringing in 2002 with a performance that left little doubt that the
Quintet was performing on par with the finest bands ever to grace
a stage.
On the down
side, that show also marked the first time all four surviving members
of the Grateful Dead had performed together since Jerry Garcia's
death, and would lead to a reunion tour that eventually lead to
the demise of the Quintet. The Dead would serve up a stellar New
Year's performance in 2002, but their ensuing tour the following
summer left much to be desired, leading me to a new destination
on New Year's 2003; Gov't Mule at the Beacon Theatre in New York.
After years
of playing second fiddle to Panic on New Year's in Atlanta, Mule
had taken their New Year's show north, finding a home in the friendly
confines of the Beacon, where Warren has spent many a March evening
performing as a member of the Allman Brothers Band. Another stellar
show, and the closing of a circle that had begun nearly a decade
earlier, in 1994, the first time I had briefly entertained the notion
of a Panic-less New Year.
Just a few weeks
later, a new circle would begin, with 2004 ushering in the dawn
of a new era in to my life. At the suggestion of our editor Tom
Speed, I headed to Athens in January to interview Tishamingo, having
no idea what a life altering event I was in for. I'd never dare
to dream that another band would come along and fill the void left
in my life when Mike Houser left us. The thought had simply never
even entered my mind.
For 15 years,
I lived in the house of Panic, and was blessed with the good fortune
of not only hundreds of free shows, but countless good times with
every member of the band, from weddings to births, and, ultimately,
to death. Mikey's passing affected us all, in many different ways.
For me, it simply made it easier to move on with life, to explore
things new, in honor of the memory of a man as kind and sweet as
any I've ever encountered.
It never dawned
on me that, given time, it could be possible to fill the void created
by that loss, to find another band that could touch my life as deeply
and mightily as Mikey and the rest of Panic. By the end of 2004,
having seen but a dozen shows, it was crystal clear that, thanks
to my new friends Tishamingo, the void left by Mike's passing was
no more. Suddenly, I was reminded that music, as life, continues
to live and breathe anew. In Tishamingo, a group of guys whose collective
personality very much resembles that of Widespread Panic, I'd again
found that excitement I used to feel going to see Panic, knowing
that each show would be better than the one before, and knowing
that, with each passing show, I was witnessing history in the making.
So, with New
Year's Eve 2005 approaching, I was faced with the fact that five
of my six favorite bands of all time where all performing at the
same time. If Led Zeppelin was to descend to once again to make
their Heavenly music here on Earth, there would have been no choice
to make. I still consider their music to stand in an entirely different
stratosphere, something no other collection of mere mortals could
ever rival.
With Zeppelin
obviously not an option, my New Year's dilemma was at hand. As always,
I believe in following my heart, letting it take me to the place
that feels the most like home. These days, there is no doubt my
heart belongs to Tishamingo. So, on December 29, after kicking off
my New Year's festivities at the Roxy with Panic, I will leave Atlanta
headed southbound, not for my home in Stockbridge, but to Charleston,
SC, where I will ring in 2006 at the Pour House with Tishamingo
for a show that promises to be an evening filled with "Songs
of Innocence and Songs of Experience."
I couldn't be
more excited about my decision, and the shows that lay ahead. While
the masses may not yet agree, 2005 was indeed, for my money, The
Year of the 'Mango.
I wish everyone
the happiest of holidays, and hope you've enjoyed this column. Tune
back in here in 2006 for more each month, as well as reviews and
news from the road. Also be on the lookout for an in depth interview
with Jimmy Herring next week, as he talks about taking time off
the road, and heading to the studio to record a new batch of tunes.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
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