Whatever healthy rivalry may have existed in 1970 between The Allman Brothers Band and the Grateful Dead, thank goodness the shows the two bands performed together at the Fillmore East in February of that year were, for the most part, captured by the Dead’s early master of taping, Owsley Stanley- also known in the Dead circle as Bear.  These performances by the Brothers have circulated before and often, even twice as a formally issued single-disc that compiled the best of the three nights of source material.  But, until now, never have all the “Sonic Journals” from that run of concerts been available on CD.

The intrepid navigators of the internet could’ve heard these sets a few years back, as digital audio files.  With this deluxe edition of three CDs, presented by the Owsley Stanley Foundation and The Allman Brothers Band, the results of those supporting appearances are cleaned up, gathered in one place, and feature all the “southern comfort” recorded until Bear ran out of tape.  Yes, there are some unfortunate gaps- for reel-changes- that leave it to the imagination to fill in what kind of magic Duane Allman and Dickey Betts would have been spinning.  Yet, there’s more than enough here to excite, especially three versions of the dynamic Betts’ instrumental “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed,” including what is billed as the earliest known concert recording of the epic. 

Earliest is a well-chosen word.  The trio of Liz Reeds aptly details how the Brothers, at this point together for less than a year, were not only evolving the song, but also evolving as a band.  There are familiar entries, such as “Statesboro Blues” and “Whipping Post,” and the centerpiece of their opening slot, “Mountain Jam;” the latter often the culprit for Bear’s tape run-outs.  Still, as any fan of the groundbreaking group knows, it isn’t necessarily what was played, but how.  And while these versions lean to the more developing and conventional side as compared to what they’d become, they still plenty cook.

These are ambitious and robust showings by the Brothers, though, by circumstance, curtailed in the kind of extended jamming that would make 1971’s At Fillmore East the legendary live album that it is.  Most songs here land more in the five-to-ten-minute range, but are as swinging, and connecting in their punches, as one should expect from the ensemble.  Durations are shorter, but the quality of the jams is stellar, and conspicuously adrenalized, warming up an audience of NYC Deadheads.  Thank Bear for recognizing The Allman Brothers Band’s emerging greatness, and for letting those tapes roll.