Like many of the greats Duane Allman died before his time in a freak accident, crushed by a lumber truck (not a peach truck as many believed, the "Eat a Peach" album by the Allmans in 1972 was not a reference to his death but merely one of Duane's quotes about Georgia and peace). Like those before him what he accomplished in his short years is much more impressive than the tragic way he died.
When you listen to Layla and hear that memorable opening riff...that was Duane Allman. Eric Clapton originally penned the song as a ballad until Duane stepped in and laid it down for the bloke. After hearing Duane provide lead guitar as a session musician Clapton was quoted as saying: "I remember hearing Wilson Pickett's 'Hey Jude' and just being astounded by the lead break at the end. ... I had to know who that was immediately — right now." I write this because as soon as one hears the name Allman their mind shifts into a world of hippies, bikers and the circus that the band has become in the last twenty years. If Duane was still around you can rest assured that this never would have happened, it would have remained true and uncompromising.
"Goin Down Slow" has been covered by everyone. Everyone. I would imagine that there is a version of Barry Manilow's floating around somewhere in the vaults. It has been done funky, fast and acoustic but like a cigar and scotch this song is never better than when it is done slow. Once Duane's version was recorded they should have ripped up the music and erased every musician's memory of how to play it. Everything else is just fluff and shit, worthless spittle thrown into the ether by mindless drones attempting to recreate a blues Pieta.
And there are so many reasons why. Could be the opening rambling piano lead-in setting up in minor the explosion of emotion and soul that could change James Brown's name to Tom. Maybe it is Duane's almost falsetto voice meandering through the terse lyrics of retrospection of a man on his deathbed. Others would say it is the brushes and slow high hat; bouncing, holding the guitar in check. But in reality it is the Les Paul that will leave you bleedin on the ground, raped by the blues.
There are two solos in this song including the outro, each of which hold their own validity and intensity, they build and destroy themselves during each interlude. The first one is very Garcia-like in the beginning, it rambles slowly, the important notes are the ones not being played. Duane had the skill to set Stevie Ray's fingers on fire but the soul and sense of timing to frame each note of this simple pentatonic scale in ways rarely exploited. The rambling ceases with some quick riffs and begins again until 3:49 when with a triple string-single fret tap and a few huge, holding, bends the intensity builds to stop. It is a massive solo and had it not been for the second, probably some of the most simply-complex blues every played.
In reality the second solo begins at 6:47 with Duane mouthing sounds "hmmmmm hmmm hmmm hmmmm hmmmmmmmmm" while bends break through in the background until 7:43 where Les Paul takes over again showing the power of six strings over two human vocal cords; the piano flutters and that slow, soft bouncer of the drums turns into an aboriginal head shrinking chant caught up in the voodoo beating out of Duane's fingers.
I think that this might be the best blues song ever written. It captures the desperation of staring the reaper in the face after a life not spent in a confessional. It is the moaning of the slaves in the field, the boss man staring you down through aviators and the cologne that is not yours on your woman's blouse. "Goin Down Slow" is everything you could ever ask for in a blues song and I'm not the only one who thinks so, who do you think made that lumber truck stop in the middle of its turn, leaving Duane dead at 25?
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