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The Georgia Public Broadcasting building on 14th Street was a welcome site after negotiating some typical mid-afternoon Atlanta traffic on our way to a very special Derek Trucks Band performance. After dropping Jeff Dunham off at the front door, Maria and Stella Dunham and I went to park the car in the Public Broadcasting garage. We parked just above the entry ramp, and noticed a sign that said, "Please do not walk down the ramp - use elevators," but there was no sign indicating where the elevators were located. This sent us to a remote stairway in which we almost found ourselves locked before we threw up our hands and decided to be rebels and walk down the ramp as the security guard eyed us curiously.
We were led to a studio somewhere on the 14th Street side of the building, and there was The Trucks Band, with Count M'Butu's percussion also set up so he could join in the fun. The band was extremely friendly, some remembered me from past visits, and all of them warmly greeted our prize-winning attendees, Myles Brown and Greg Perry.
Kofi Burbridge's keys were situated at the entrance to the studio, and The Dunhams would be seated at a large desk that took up the wall to Kofi's left, with Yonrico Scott's "drums of love" set up to Kofi's right. And in the middle of it all was Derek Trucks and his long time bassist, Todd Smallie. I set up my little note-taking shop near the far corner of the studio, just to the right of vocalist Mike Mattison. I knew that was my place, as I was situated directly in front of Derek's amp, and with the loud instruments in the room, I also was aware that it was the only spot that would allow me to hear some of Mattison's luscious pipes.
It is amazing how down to Earth the members of The Trucks Band continue to be even with all of the success and notoriety they have enjoyed in recent history. Not only did they repeatedly thank The Dunhams for all the support over the years, but they also waited patiently while the Georgia Public Radio folks scrambled around looking for a DAT with which to record the performance (Captain Spaceball Dunham had forgotten to bring one). It was during this time that Derek spoke fondly of the time his band had performed in The Dunhams living room four or five years before that, "what a fun time that was," he said, continuing with a laugh "I mean, we were in your house!" Somehow this also reminded Trucks of Shawn Lane, an amazing Atlanta-area guitarist that had passed away just a couple of days before this session. The other members of the band had not heard the news, so the six folks who made up this audience sat in complete silence, acting as flies on the wall as the members of DTB first reacted to this sad news, and then shared fond memories of this incredibly unique guitarist. A note hadn't even been played yet, and we had already been treated to a very extraordinary and touching moment.
Once a DAT was found, Derek began coaxing some spine-tingling notes out of his guitar and soon some delicate M'Butu and Scott flavorings joined for a brief, but sweet prelude to "For My Brother." The soulful reading of this Marvin Gaye-esque Trucks Band original had the "lucky six" (the audience) transfixed on the "magical six" (band members). The band seemed tentative at first, but just a couple of minutes into the piece the energy started flowing heavily. At one point, Kofi delivered a sweet flute solo over the hushed musical landscape provided by his band mates. This gained complexity as Derek first started throwing in some jump rhythms, and then dove in full steam, trading some mesmerizing flurries with Kofi's aggressive flute. Trucks would eventually take the spotlight with some piercing slide guitar, which he earnestly built to a crescendo before letting the music settle back to the composed section of the song. I can't wait to hear the final mix when this airs on a future Dunhams Radio Program, as from my vantage point; Scott's drums and Trucks' guitar were dominating my ears.
The band then embarked on what would become the centerpiece of the set, a synapse-messaging version of a song made famous by John Coltrane (although it was written by Mongo Santamaria), "Afro Blue." Derek offered a quirky take on the initial rhythm of the piece, before the band launched into the familiar central riff of the song. This was a slightly more up-tempo version than I am used to seeing them play, but it didn't stop Derek from quickly leading the band to a tantalizingly ethereal passage, underscored by a classical Indian music feel. Then, as Yonrico gradually eased more muscle into his input, Derek built the sound to a ferocious, pulsating energy blast, sending out jaw-dropping riffs in rapid-fire fashion. The music settled down to a deliciously Eastern feel, and Derek moved toward M'Butu to engage him in some worldly interplay, then turned toward Todd and the two drove the band through another amazing passage before bringing the song to a close.
Dunham took advantage of this break to interview the band. The discussion included Derek reflecting on the first time he had heard "Afro Blue" as a boy, listening to Coltrane's Live at Birdland CD. Apparently, it blew a young Derek's mind at the time.
The Soul Serenade disc that the band is currently promoting had been lying in wait for a couple of years (record company weirdness), so when Derek was asked about Bert's Lounge, pictured on the disc, he replied, "We probably couldn't even find it if we tried now." According to Todd, the lounge is somewhere in Florida.
Smallie's funky jazz bottom drove "Feel So Bad," the second and final song that Mattison would sing. This was another tune characterized by gradually building energy, which gained steam from some well-placed mid-instrumental stop/starts. Kofi took over at one point, driving the band with a fantastic, extended solo. As it was the first day of the Major League Baseball playoffs, this lyric had an air of appropriateness, "I feel so bad, I feel like going to a ballgame on a rainy day."
The band would close with a staggering rendition of the title track of Rahsaan Roland Kirk's 1969 release, Volunteered Slavery. They pushed their use of dynamics to an extreme on this one, as at one point elegant, very high slide guitar was mingling with a whispering walking bassline, and the band let the song breathe, effortlessly taking the small audience on the most intriguing journey of the day. As Trucks guided the band through another passage dripping with a variety of Eastern textures, I caught prizewinners Brown and Perry taking it all in with wild eyes (they are musicians themselves, members of the Atlanta band, The Soundmen).
It is no surprise then, that as I chatted with these two young men upon our departure, I found them to be genuinely inspired. "That is very much what we would like to do with our band," one said, "They were amazing."
This was a memorable li'l mini-event on many levels, but if these two were encouraged to push themselves further as musicians, then that may have been the most meaningful part of a remarkable afternoon.
Words by: Robert Turner
Images by: John Croxton
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