Mother Nature hates the Yankees.

She does. George Steinbrenner sheds a single tear every time his field crew sprints across Yankee Stadium pulling an oversized blue tarp. Today Mother Nature rained herself upon the seemingly infinite Long Island from sun up to sun down. To use Forrest Gump parlance, it was prime example of “a tiny stinging rain” that drives into your shirt collar and sneaks up your pant legs. Due to the rain, the Hawaiian shirts were seemingly put on hold for drier and warmer attire much to my mounting dismay. As if the rain wasn’t bad enough, it is also about 55 degrees—a solid 50 degrees colder than it was in New Orleans the day before I left. Needless to say, I was cold both in body and spirit.

In addition, my station this evening was way off stage with a solid sheet of tarp blocking my line of sight. Therefore, for those of you that will hear the Jones Beach disc, I apologize if the track markers are off by a few seconds. It’s very hard to guess transitions when you can’t see the band.

Sadly, I was told that this venue was devoid of all the characters I wished for. This is the Long Island crowd: ambitious suburbanites who find acts like the Allman Brothers “smart” and “a great example of solid Americana this country can really get behind if only they would discard newer music made by computers and other devices lacking the soul of a true American like Gregg Allman.” In summation, it’s a good thing I was backstage and not in the crowd this evening. These people would probably abhor my Southern accent, my Boston Red Sox hat (specifically chosen for today though in retrospect it may have been a bad move as the stagehands didn’t pay me much attention except to ridicule my obviously superior headwear), and my desire to stay in the city of New Orleans.

My day did take a turn up when I arrived backstage after dinner. There, like a couple of high school girls milling around before senior prom, were all of the Allman Brothers crew in all their Hawaiian glory. After such a let down this morning, my eyes were met with vividly hellacious polyester and silk shirts draped eloquently over sweatshirts, ponchos, and one bare chest. I was disappointed to see only flowers and leis but thrilled and excited by the colors. O! the colors how they swam, chasing one another across these wearable canvasses. There were no NASCAR shirts, no band shirts, no other vegetation of any kind but it was a feast for my eyes anyway.

The set itself was very good. Great set list and many tracks I haven’t heard yet. Overall, quite a successful night.

Trouble No More
Ain’t Wasting Time No More
Statesboro Blues
Rocking Horse
Gambler’s Roll
Black Hearted Woman
Stone Me
Stand Back
Why Does Love Have To Be So Sad?
In Memory of Elizabeth Reed
JaBuMa

Encore:
Don’t Want You No More
Southbound w/ John Hall (of one hit wonder band Orleans with their hit "Still The One" why they invited him to sit in is beyond me...he's now a congressman or something)