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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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