Whereas At Filmore East was the result of a professionally engineered effort to produce a concert album, the Allman’s Ludlow Garage album is full of technical flaws – beautiful wonderful flaws. One of the many amps on stage seemed to be having a bad night. Perhaps a tube was going, or maybe it was just the powerful vibes the band was putting out that night, but you can hear it buzzing intermittently throughout most of the show. This is the reality of a young band performing in a small club. The show goes on – technical flaws and all.
When it was recorded by Dan Britt and Rick Lemker at Ludlow Garage in Cincinnati on 11 April 1970, it was likely for the band’s personal archives and not intended to be released to the public. Many of the jam bands of this period – but especially the Grateful Dead – went to extra lengths to document every show they performed for future reference. Nowadays bands can simply plug in their portable digital devices to the venue’s soundboard to archive their shows, but in 1970, archival feats were accomplished on tape at 7 1/2 inches per second. That’s a lot of tape – more than 3700 feet of it for this concert!
The Allman Brothers Band Live at Ludlow Garage 1970
1) Dreams (Allman) – 10:15
2) Statesboro Blues (McTell) – 8:09
3) Trouble No More (Waters) – 4:13
4) Dimples (Bracken/Hooker) – 5:00
5) Every Hungry Woman (Allman) – 4:28
6) I’m Gonna Move to the Outskirts of Town (Weldon) – 9:22
7) Hoochie Coochie Man (Dixon) – 5:23
8) Mountain Jam [Theme from First There Is a Mountain] (Allman/Allman/Betts/Donovan/Oakley) – 44:00
The Allman Brothers Band:
Gregg Allman – Organ, Piano, Keyboards, Vocals
Dickey Betts – Guitar, Vocals
Duane Allman – Guitar
Berry Oakley – Bass
Jaimoe – Percussion, Drums
Butch Trucks – Percussion, Drums
Recorded direct to two track by Dan Britt and Rick Lemker, 11 April 1970. Digitally transferred and restored by Dennis Drake at PloyGram Studios. Mastered by Greg Calbi at Sterling Sound.
Liner Notes by Ben Sandmel:
From 1969 to 1971, Cincinnati, Ohio was the home of a classic psychedelic-rock palace known as the Ludlow Garage. The Garage featured all of the latest hippie accoutrements — a big screen for light shows, oriental rugs and cushions for seating, and a sound system that had actually been used at Woodstock. Gigantic “Alice in Wonderland” chairs provided the finishing touch in period decor. The club was run, moreover, by a communal group devoted to the new “underground” music which had blossomed during 1967’s Summer of Love. After a grand opening with Grand Funk Railroad, the Ludlow Garage soon attracted virtually every major rock/electric/underground en route through the Midwest. Visiting luminaries included Santana, Spirit, Dr. John, B.B. King, Neil Young, Ry Cooder, Captain Beefheart, and The Incredible String Band. But amidst all of this major talent, perhaps the best rapport and working relationship was that between the Garage and the Allman Brothers.
“The Ludlow Garage was one of our favourite gigs,” Dicky Betts recalls fondly. “It was a real dungeon, but a great place to play. We always had a great gig there. It was hot and sweaty and people came to hear.” “From the very beginning,” Gregg Allman concurs, “back when we were nobodies, the people at the Ludlow Garage always treated us really good.” Such mutual enthusiasm is instantly obvious on this brilliant live set, which was recorded at the Garage in April of 1970. “The energy and vibes that the Allmans put out were incredible,” says Rick Graham, who was the Garage’s resident carpenter, maintenance man, and master mixologist of “electric wine.” “Everyone responded. A lot of pseudo-professional jerks used to play there too, on all kinds of bullshit star trips, but the Brothers were just down-to-earth people who were really into their music. Money was secondary — they were living what they were doing, and we all could feel it.”
“The Allman Brothers were special to us from their first gig,” agrees Jeff Seeman, now a nationally-respected slide guitarist who ran the Garage’s light show. “It was really inspirational to watch Duane Allman play up close. As employees we found them very easy people to be with, and they loved the enthusiasm and appreciation which pervaded the club. It was a real deep friendship, and they always packed the place.” Sound man Dan Britt, who recorded this show along with Rick Lemker, adds “We got close to the Allmans in a hurry. There was a strong sense of community back then. I don’t know if we’ll ever see it again.
Besides capturing both the idealism of a bygone era and a powerful, inspired performance, this album also presents the Allman Brothers in several developmental phases. Barely known at the time, they were touring on a tight budget to promote what was then their only album. (The arena-rock days were still far on the horizon; in Cincinnati for instance, the band economized by staying at the home of Garage-owner Jim Tarbell.) They were still experimenting with arrangements and repertoire. (Check out the hushed dynamics on “Statesboro Blues” here, and the never-flagging forty-four minute “Mountain Jam” — with its killer solos all around, and sly quotation from Led Zeppelin’s “Dazed and Confused.”) Dickey Betts had yet to emerge as a featured singer and co-front man, which would lead, in turn, to the band’s only top-ten single, “Ramblin’ Man.” And the term “Southern Rock” (which in a sense, of course, is ridiculously redundant) had yet to be coined for the regional genre which the Brothers created.
While this album is formative in some senses, though, it also reflects the extent to which the Allman Brothers’ unique sound had already solidified. The music here — for instance “Dimples,” “Every Hungry Woman,” “Hoochie Coochie Man” — is passionate, aggressive, and executed with supremely confident finesse. As the band later showed the world on Allman Brothers Band At Fillmore East, they could definitely do it on stage, without the behind the scenes assistance of studio overdubs. And while Betts’ country music influence — expressed later in gems like “Blue Sky” — was still percolating, the Brothers’ other Southern Rock innovations are all amply evident. The twin lead guitars, double drumming, daring ensemble arrangements, and stylistic blend of blues, hard rock, and swinging, organ-trio jazz are seamlessly blended here in one consistently ferocious groove. Gregg Allman’s raw, honest singing serves as the final unifying factor, and stands out all the more prominently because of his thick, unabashedly Southern accent. Such drawled inflections had grown quite passe, back then, in the wake of the Civil Rights era and the film Easy Rider.
Cincinnati was an especially apt town in which to forge the Southern Rock hybrid. Bordering Kentucky, and close to Appalachia, the city maintains a Southern tinge in its culture, speech patterns, and relaxed — some might say staid — ambience. Cincinnati’s musical history also provided a fertile creative climate. King Records — America’s best commercial roots-music label — was based there, waxing blues players like Freddie King, soul greats such as James Brown and Hank Ballard, and country aces like the Delmore Brothers. All of Southern Rock’s varied influences, therefore, were very close at hand. Then, in the early ’60s, a young guitarist named Lonnie Mack (who hailed from neighboring Aurora, Indiana, and did session work for King) distilled all these diverse-yet-complementary sources into a cohesive, trail-blazing sound which was well ahead of its time. The late ’60s guitar heroes who followed — Mike Bloomfield, Eric Clapton, Duane Allman, Dickey Betts — are all indebted to Mack’s innovations. “Lonnie is one of the greatest players I know of,” Dickey Betts says with deep respect. “He’s always been a great influence on me.” Thus through King Records, and local legend Lonnie Mack, Cincinnati has helped shape Southern Rock and contemporary rock guitar in general.
It’s appropriate in many ways, then, that Cincinnati’s Ludlow Garage was one of the Allman Brothers’ favorite venues, along with Fillmore East and West, and the Warehouse in New Orleans. When the club started to go under, in fact — with no liquor license, its earning potential was limited — the Brothers offered to play a benefit concert, free of charge. This kept the doors open a bit longer, but eventually the Ludlow Garage went dark. With the release of this excellent Allmans’ performance, one of its finest moments has now been ressurected.
Ben Sandmel is an expatriate Cincinnatian, a former Garage customer, and the producer of Big Joe Duskin’s Cincinnati Stomp (on Arhoolie Records). Sandmel now lives and works in New Orleans as a writer, drummer, and folklore researcher. Check him out on Boogie Bill Webb’s Drinkin’ and Stinkin’, on Chicago’s Flying Fish label.
I am the creator and site administrator at The Basement Rug. I have been collecting LP's and CD's for more than 30 years. I 
rugrat…
i finally got around to listening to this. it’s an interesting slice of history in the development of a band. i recall hitchhiking to atlanta (which was a stone drag) for the 1st atlanta pop festival where the allman brothers dominated the secondary stage. despite the abundence of talent on the main stage, i ended up hanging around the other one, as i was mesmerized by this band. outside of jazz, i’d never heard such interplay between not just the soloists, but the whole band as a working unit. as mentioned in the review, you could tell that the band “were living what they were doing” which even made them that much more authentic, and endearing.
typically, i abhor gratuitous solos (on the guitar especially) that run on for 88 bars when the ideas expressed could have easily been said in 8. but with the allmans, duane & dickey in particular, the ideas just kept on coming and the solos never wore out their welcome. they were a wonderful band in their early days, but after duane’s death, and butch trucks too, i lost interest as they could never match the greatness of the original band.
thanks for sharing this.
I have seen the post-Duane Allman’s a few times and there is something magical about the way they almost breathe through their movements. I have seen magical things happen on stage – musical changes where no visible signals took place and yet suddenly, wham! A drop or tempo change takes things in a whole new direction. As for the guitar solos, the lack of a regular structure and the paired guitars makes them seem less like solos and more like guides for a journey. Do you have the exact dates for the Atlanta shows you were at? I may have a recording of it that I could offer to you.