One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band Read Online Free

this day he actually did sing ‘Jew.’”
    When I sent it to Wexler, he called and said, “A fucking stroke of genius, Rick.”
    I said, “Really? Well, it wasn’t my idea. It was Duane Allman’s idea.”
    He said, “Whoever’s idea it was, you produced a great record. I do believe it’s going to number one.”

    Wilson Pickett and Duane Allman, Muscle Shoals, Alabama.

    On one of his very first sessions, Allman had proven his value as both a guitarist and musical visionary, someone who could do much more than play his parts. He quickly began to be known as both “Skyman” and “Skydog.” The nicknames would last forever, but there have been conflicting stories about their origins. Hall says neither is a mystery.
    HALL: I called Duane “Dog” because he looked like an old hound dog with his big ears and hanging-down white hair. Then Wilson, who had a name for everyone, started calling Duane “Skyman” because he loved to have a toke. He’d go in the bathroom, then come back and play his ass off. “Skyman” and “Dog” kind of merged into “Skydog.”
    Duane wanted to start his own band and get back to performing, while Hall was looking to start working with groups in addition to recording individual artists. With their needs and desires lining up, a partnership was struck.
    HALL: Given our relationship and the success we had, I signed Duane to a five-year recording contract, brought him into Studio B, and said, “Work up your songs and we’ll put something down.”
    He was singing, too, though it was obvious to me that he was a guitarist, not a singer. When I’d say that, he’d go, “My brother’s a great singer. If I got him to come with me, we’d have a great band.”
    And I said, “Well, get him here.” And he said, “Oh, he don’t want to come. He’s got another band out in California.” I just went, “Whatever.” I wanted to get to work, not talk about guys who weren’t there.
    Hall could not quite see a way to turn his obviously talented charge into a successful recording artist, but Phil Walden immediately seemed to have a clearer vision. The manager of the late Otis Redding as well as several other R&B acts who had recorded in Muscle Shoals, Walden was looking to expand into rock acts when he visited Hall and discussed Allman.
    HALL: Phil said, “This guy is gonna make you a million dollars. You just go in there, turn on the machine for eight hours, smoke a cigarette, drink a Pepsi, and when you get done, you’ll have a million dollars. This guy’s gonna be a superstar.”
    I said, “That’s bullshit, man. Come on.”
    JON LANDAU, then a writer for Rolling Stone and Crawdaddy, he has been Bruce Springsteen’s manager since 1978: I was in Macon with Phil [Walden] writing an article for Rolling Stone on the soul music world after Otis Redding, who had died in December 1967. I also wanted to go to Muscle Shoals and Phil took me there; we got two seats on a very early-in-the-morning mail plane. Phil was talking a lot about Duane Allman and was very anxious for me to meet him and hear him play. When I got there he was overdubbing for some session and I went to the studio and he was standing there by himself with his guitar and amp.
    HALL: Duane had a little band together and they were sleeping in Studio B. I’d go wake them up and they would be high and covered in blankets. I’d say, “Let’s record something, Duane.” And he’d put his arm around me and say, “You know, Rick, the stars and moons are not lining up right. Let’s wait around a day or two and once the signs are right, we’ll be ready to go.”
    I said, “Bullshit. I can’t put up with this crap.”
    SANDLIN: Hell no! We were all excited to record. Duane’s band was me, [keyboardist] Paul Hornsby, and Berry [Oakley]. We weren’t like Rick’s regular musicians who came in and worked on a schedule every day, but we weren’t sitting around. We were excited about this project; it just wasn’t what Rick