I am so fortunate I was at this show at Stony Brook as well as Watkins Glen and RFK Stadium with the Dead. These were the golden days for sure May they all be free from the pain and shackles of this material world and play forever in the spiritual sky with George Harrison (who showed me the way back home). Hari bol !!!
It's Aug 4, 2020 and I've listened to this song every week for the last 5 years...and still get emotional. Yes, the beautiful contrast and yet understanding between Duane and Dickey is without equal...I am still humbled at the passion and soul they express between themselves. Whomever, wherever, could have this heartful bond that rips my heart everytime I hear this. Whomever reads this, I just want you to know that my two sons were raised on this, and despite their life long careers in the military, STILL... get full of love and emotion when the three of us hear this....there will never be another band this expressive, EVER...Thanks ABB...Yes, this will be played at my funeral...! Yeeah !
Everything you said hits home! The Brothers were a Band of Brothers and they respected each other and gave themselves space to hear those special fills and accents that make them so musical and without pretense. Love these guys!
I couldn't agree more I also want this song played when they lay me to rest... This is the greatest song ever written as far as I'm concerned...It brings both tears of joy and sadness and I will miss them all the rest of my days... Thank you ABB for all the great music😅😢
Duane was such a class act. He loved the music more than anything. Never hesitated to rejoice and praise the brilliance of Dickey Betts. Those early Allman Brothers... magical stuff.
I think this is like one of 4 recordings (at most) with Duane playing. Personally, this is hands down the best version from Live at SUNY Stonybrook. Damn tasty solos
@@MikeCoggan I really wish Duane could’ve lived man, blue sky was fucking amazing with Duane on it , still great without but other worldly with him. I can only imagine how many more great songs there would have been
I burst into tears just now as Dickey began to sing. And this version is so special and true to everything that I fell in love with these guys when I first heard them in 1972 when I was 14. As they all slowly leave, a huge chunk of my musical heart goes with them. Rest in peace Dickey Betts. Say hi to Duane for all of us. Keep on flowing. Don't worry about where we're going.
Duane and Dickey make this song fly…..Berry’s Bass is the most unbelievable 4 string lead ever recorded… man the bands upstairs make ya can’t wait until you can see them again…Ride In Peace brothers and sisters Berry Oakley ladies and Gennamen!
Absolutely love this! Who else is still listening to this, in 2020? BTW: Any guy that has ever been in love can totally relate to these lyrics, "Lord you know, it makes me high, when you turn your love my way" ... isn't that what life is all about??? BTW: Dickey Betts wrote this song for his beautiful Native American girl friend, "Sandy Blue Sky Wabegijig". If you have ever seen the beautiful "Sandy Blue Sky", you could plainly see how Dickey was so inspired to write such a beautiful song!
This is a great version of a great song. Blue Sky is one of my all time get happy, be happy, peaceful loving life songs. I cannot believe I have never heard this version and I believe it has the possibility of becoming my favorite get happy be happy, good morning song for a beautiful upstate NY late September 45 degree temp fog lifting to a deep blue sun shinning without a care in the world sky. Thank you for posting.
this is so much better than anything... I cannot believe how passionate and beautiful and transcendent this is... what a great great great song and performance... chill bumps... I hope that they felt it when they played it... I cannot believe how good this is...
I have never before or since encountered so clear an example of the phrase, "pouring one's soul into their music" than this song. If they didn't feel it, then I'm the Queen of England.
Followed them since they were 16 - 17 yrs old playing all the coastal cities & towns in FL , ALA, MISS.When I first heard them they were called White Trash. Our bass player dated Dwayne so we got to know them. Dwayne invited us to play at 2nd Atlanta pop festival. Dwayne played guitar for 12 hrs a day 365. Slept w/ it literally. Never forget them. Dickie , thank God, survives & plays beyond words. If you want to play for a living you have to do as Dwayne did - treat it as a full time job & play all day & night. They were our Gods & we went to every gig we cud possibly attend, even as kids. Nothing in my life has ever compared to those days listening to them & playing their type of music. Dwayne's guitar ripped the air to shreds !
Wow, What a bunch of memories to have stored. Hopefully, your hard drive isn't to fragmented and you can replay this memory into a single, personal live, very young performance without shitting your pants.
Dickey Betts and Duane Allman, not surprisingly, are amazing on this tune... the whole band is locked in. But maybe because I am a bassist as well as a guitarist, I got to stop and give some love to Berry Oakley. Berry just had the perfect bass sound for the Allmans and knew just where to fit into things for maximum effect. They've had some very nice bass players in the band since Berry passed, but no one who could really fill his shoes. No dishonor there, because those were some big ones to fill!
@@fuckingyankeeblue - I liked the late Allen Woody's playing a lot, but it did not seem as unique and innovative as Oakley's did. Your mileage may vary, of course. And Woody deserves major props for carrying on the Allman Brothers name and legacy.
I suppose what I mean is that you can't really replace a legend. Those shoes of Oakley's were too-big to fill. If Woody had been the guy at the start, and Oakley replacing him, maybe we'd be speaking about it differently, but it is a very tall order to replace the likes of Berry Oakley. Then or now. That's no disrespect to an obviously very talented musician in his own right in the late Mr. Woody.
No, there's at least one more live version of Blue Sky with Duane....it may have been from a different set from the same venue, because I clicked on this thinking it was the same recording that I downloaded off of Kazaa a few years back. This version is a little longer than the other version I heard (the other ran a little over 9 minutes), and this one has much better sound quality!
if you search for "Blue Sky live 1971", a few different renditions with Duane pop up! One poster, I think "German Opera Singer" said that there are 5 known live recordings of Blue Sky with Duane....plus I think that's one of the songs they were rehearsing on "The Gatlinburg Tapes", if I'm not mistaken
- Hey now- I've got soundboard recording of ''Blue Sky" from the Warehouse in New Orleans 3/16/ 1971 which is way hotter than this take- and a live out take from a practice in Macon dated 5/71 which is a Quad mix from "Eat a Peach" rehearsals and/or practice of "Blue sky" "stand back" and "Little Marthra'' ( with berry oakley on bass) - very good and alternate takes
I've been listening to this song every day for about 8 years now. I go to sleep to it every night. This group brings tears to my eyes every time I listen to this song.
My mother was born and raise in Macon, Ga...when she heard me listening to the Brothers in the early 80s she said "those boys are from Macon can't you find something better" I said no....Still can't
Christ this is so much better than every version Dickey ever played after Duane died. Always was a great tune, probably my favorite Allman Brothers studio song. The missing ingredient, the icing on the cake is Duane's guitar here and on the original studio recording. Even when they did it years later with Warren (trying to) playing Duane's parts it just didn't have the smoothness, that incredible beauty Duane brought to every song he ever played.
Duane, with EC, both on a drug binge, 1970 - Miami, after an Allman Brothers concert. Live jams.. Proved how incredible Duane was. EC was floored, and eventually inspired by him... Layla came out of these incredible jams. Duane, dead too soon....
I cannot count how many times I have played this amazing version. It gets better each time. Recorded over 40 years ago and you can still feel the energy and excitement of Duane and the band as if they were playing it today.
The sound quality on this post is very good. I don't think they ever played any song the same way twice, but they were always great. I think that is a testament to them being played from the heart. Dickey said, in a fairly current interview, that he hadn't written in a while, but wanted to. He said, and I paraphrase, he didn't want his music to sound contrived, like it was written, just to be written. There you go, a genuine, original.
How often do you get two beautiful guitar players playing together. I'm grateful to have seen one of them live and grateful that there are recordings of both of them together. They complimented each other so well. Can never get tired of this song-work of art
I saw the Allman Brothers at Madison Square Garden in 1973. Best concert I ever saw. They played for over 3 hours. They kept on coming out for oncores. Great music to see live and to hear stoned.
Thank you so much for posting this gem,.. my late , oldest brother was a true fan , and grew up listening and playing too the Allman Bros, my late youngest brother, a spectacular guitar player, self taught on the Les Paul, listening to my ole cassettes , and albums,... missing them both today, this wonderful recording of “Blue Sky” really made my day....
This is a special song for me, because it reminds me of the greatest man I ever had the privilege of knowing, my grandfather. If you have a few minutes and want to read about a much loved dead man who did a lot of good in the world, read on, because I want to tell you a story, the story of a grandpa from the eyes of his grandson. I might get a little long winded with it, so I apologize in advance for the wall of text. He was a good man, grandpa. A kind man. That's how I would describe him if I had to narrow it down to one word. After serving in the Navy, he married my grandma and settled down in the green rolling country in a big farmhouse with a wraparound porch. My little brother and I were lucky enough to spend a lot of time there growing up, I’d say almost half the weekends we were in school, and as often as we could over the summer and winter breaks. It was a bit over a 30 minute drive outside of town, out where life was slower. At a bend in the road, a long-abandoned farm implement covered with wild roses marked the driveway, the first half of which they shared with their next door neighbors. Honeysuckle, blackberries, and ivy had overgrown the fence all the way up the long drive, and sitting at the end of it was almost always grandpa’s 1972 red and white Chevy pickup. The house itself was surrounded by green grass and sprawling, stately hardwoods, with a winding creek cutting through the back yard. There was a gnarled grapevine that grew along a wire between a couple of posts out back that grandpa waged a constant war with every "critter" within 10 miles over, and deep, earthy smelling beds framed with railroad ties up front, full of colorful shrubs and flowers like gardenias and daffodils. One of the neighbors kept honeybees, so the flowers were constantly buzzing with them. Azalea bushes dotted the yard, along with a couple of dogwood and magnolia trees. The front porch was a perfect spot for a cold glass of lemonade after you’d mowed the lawn or weeded the beds, and grandma had windchimes and hummingbird feeders set up out there by the hanging bench. The oak front door was solid and heavy, with a painted sailing ship carved into the outside. Walking inside, it felt like a _home,_ like you were welcome and loved. Everything in it had a story, from the intricate little brass steam engine displayed on the mantle to the black and white picture hanging in the hallway of grandpa and his friends when they were young, smiling and waving next to the Eiffel Tower. Their chairs were set up next to each other in the living room, his a brown leather recliner, hers a smaller red fabric one. So many things in that house he made himself, like the railings on the stairs or the kitchen cabinets. He had a little man cave off to the side with a round window, and a sign on the door that said, “Pirates ONLY!” and he used to watch old movies or The Andy Griffith Show in there and "practice" on his banjo, which even as kids we could tell he couldn't play worth a damn. (But that didn't stop him from trying!) There was an antique cash register on a side table in there, the kind that went “DING!” and he would always make a huge show of paying us quarters out of it for doing chores. The house as I remember it was always busy. They knew the mailman's name. That's just alien to my mind today. Who knows their mailman's name these days? There were family and friends coming and going all the time, especially in the summertime when he hosted the neighborhood fish fry out back. Something was always cooking in the kitchen, either for us or for the next door neighbors who were basically like family to them. It was a rare day when you couldn’t find either some homemade cookies in the jar, or a pecan or buttermilk pie on the counter. Grandma hosted bible studies and bridge games in the living room for her church friends, and grandpa liked to get his friends together for poker in the evenings, where, with reruns of “Gunsmoke” playing softly in the background, they'd crack inappropriate jokes and let us kids sneak sips of their drinks, if grandma hadn't already sent us up to bed, tut-tutting at everyone involved. And not just people, but animals. They kept a few chickens out back next to the vegetable garden, so of course when we came over we got saddled with egg duty. I vaguely remember a goat who died when I was very young, and even after that he was a foster father for dogs for many years, so there were always dogs of all kinds coming and going, despite grandma's constant insistence that they stay outside the house. (Although she loved them too!) He cared for them all, and was always sad when he had to let them go. Eventually a collie/retriever puppy named Pepper stole his heart, and he decided that he was too old for more fostering, so Pepper got to stay. She had a spot on the corner of the front porch where the sun would shine in the mornings, and grandpa liked to sit out there with her when he drank his coffee. His hands were rough, and he had a deep scar on his left index finger from when he almost lost it to a band saw. He had a patchy brown and grey beard, and was fond of scratchy flannel shirts and white pocket handkerchiefs. He wore brown shoes that smelled like old polish, a brown leather belt with a shiny brass buckle cast in the shape of an oak leaf, and he always smelled like cedar trees and tobacco. He carried a whittling knife and a lucky buckeye in his pocket, and it felt like everytime he wasn’t doing something with his hands, he was fiddling with one of them. He had this look that he'd give people, as though they were both partners in crime and planning some big heist. His bushy old-man eyebrows would wiggle and you'd see a twinkle in his eye, then he'd wink and give you a sly grin. Whenever he laughed, it was genuine. He'd cock his head to one side like he was really thinking over what was funny, then he'd throw it back and let loose this booming laugh that made everyone nearby want to laugh, too. There aren't many hearts in this world as genuinely kind and compassionate as my grandpa’s was, although he might have disagreed with me. If you did something good, he'd be the first person to point it out and appreciate it. If you did something bad, he was right there reminding you that you were better than that, because he saw the good in you. I don't have a single memory of him getting angry with me when I misbehaved, and I assure you, I did sometimes. He was one of those rare people who could ignore the tough or angry or grumpy face you tried to put on and look right down into your soul to see everything that was beautiful in it. He was madly in love with my grandma, and even near the end they used to put on a very old record and slow dance in their living room, and grandpa would ask me for pointers on his footwork as grandma laughed and told him not to make an ass of himself. "You didn't need any pointers the last time we danced, are you losing your memory, dear?" "No, darling, but sometimes I wish I was so I could fall in love with you all over again." At the dinner table, it wasn't uncommon for them to try to throw little pieces of food into each other's mouths with us sitting there watching, then giggle like school kids when they (usually) missed. Not very grandparenty at all, that last bit. Grandma is never without her Boston Baked Beans, they're her favorite candy. She had a small jar of them on the kitchen counter that she'd nibble from, and grandpa was always hiding it around the house with little hand written love letters taped to it. One time he handed me the jar with his note on it and said, "Here son, go hide this where your grandma will find it." So, being 6 years old, I immediately ran out to the shed and climbed up onto the cluttered workbench so I could reach the highest shelf, and stuffed it as far back behind all the tools and dusty boxes and jars of tacks as I could get it. Feeling rather proud of myself, I turned around to see grandpa standing in the doorway, smiling and wagging his finger at me. He loved malted milkshakes, and had a much-used drinkmaster that he made them in. It was a tradition that when we came over, grandpa would have three milkshakes ready to go. Mom or dad would drop us off and we'd charge up the front steps, hug grandma at the door and drop off our backpacks, then, usually forgetting to take our shoes off, we'd fly through the living room and around the corner into the kitchen where grandpa would throw his arms out and yell something like, "HEY, YOU HOOLIGANS! WHAT ARE YOU KIDS DOING IN MY HOUSE!" Then we'd all get milkshakes to kick off the visit. We were close, the three of us. He was always wanting to do things, especially going fishing. If there was nothing to do, we’d walk over to a nearby pond and cast some lines, or we’d get up early to drive out to the lake and spend the day on a small pier with a picnic basket grandma always packed full for us. He was friends with a crusty, cantankerous old charter boat captain who for some reason went by the name “Cornbread,” and we drove down to the coast a few times to charter his boat and go deep sea fishing on the gulf stream. If it wasn’t fishing, he took us camping and showed us how to make a fire, out for a day of target practice at the range, or down to the local bar with its perennial bunch of friendly regulars so he could teach us to play pool. He even took us up to the mountains to go skiing one time, although by then he was too old to do any skiing himself. -continued in comments
I honestly thought grandma was going to have a heart attack one time. I had been upstairs trying to do my homework for the weekend, when I heard grandpa yelling outside. I ran downstairs and my little brother was standing in the back yard looking sheepish, covered head to toe in mud from the creek. You could see his teeth and the whites of his eyes, and the rest was mud. Grandpa was almost crying he was laughing so hard as he got the hose out. Then he stopped, and that familiar twinkle came into his eye. "Actually, boys, I have a better idea." Half an hour later, all three of us were covered in mud, laughing our butts off and throwing clumps of it at each other. When grandma got home, she was, to put it mildly, not happy. But it was worth it.
Like anyone, of course, he wasn't perfect. His relationship with my dad was never the best, although there was love there. Apparently he was dismissive of my dad when he was younger and tried to pigeonhole him into the sort of man grandpa thought he should be. He was hard on him to the point of meanness, and wasn't supportive of my dad's ideas, so this caused a lot of resentment and bitterness, but never open hostility, at least not in front of us kids. My dad was always a little standoffish about anything to do with grandpa, and for the most part just let us kids do things with him. I'm told grandpa mellowed significantly in the years leading up to my birth, and that he regretted how he raised his son. Dad was into the Allman Brothers Band in the 70's, and so grandpa had a lot of his old records that he didn't take with him. Unlike a lot of dads, he actually listened to his son's music and tried to appreciate it even though he was a bit before its time, I now suspect out of a desire to reconcile or atone. One that he really liked was the "Eat a Peach" album, and it wasn't uncommon to hear it playing out in his work shed as he was puttering away at some project, with Pepper hovering underfoot and wagging her tail. This song, Blue Sky was his favorite. To this day I can't hear it without thinking of him. It makes me think of the smell of sawdust, and that happy-go-lucky dog.
He used to take us both to the barbershop in town and we'd go get ice cream afterwards, and he always paid the lady behind the counter for an extra cone, for the next customer. You remember stuff like that when you're a kid. You watch it and learn from it, which is, I think, maybe why he did it. He always got peach ice cream. Every time. He’d take one lick then say, “Boys, I do believe I’d walk 20 miles in no shoes for peach ice cream,” to which we usually groaned and went, “We know, grandpa!” I remember one time we were on our way to the hardware store for who knows what, and he stopped to help a random family with their broken down car. He couldn’t get it to start, and it turned out they were on their way to a wedding, so he insisted on giving them a ride to the church, and my brother and I had to ride in the bed of the truck! He got their phone number and a few days later he made a point to call them and see if everything worked out. He was like that.
On Sunday mornings, Grandma would make sure we were presentable, then the four of us would go to church. Sometimes there’d be a potluck afterwards, sometimes we’d go to this hole in the wall bbq restaurant with an older couple who my grandparents were friends with, and sometimes we’d just go home and relax. I remember one weekend, we had wanted to go to the lake on Saturday, but we got rained out. So before sunup on Sunday, grandpa crept into our room, already wearing his smelly, tattered fishing vest covered with lures and doodads, and quietly got us kids ready. The three of us had made it down the stairs and were almost to the door when we heard, “And just where do you boys think you’re off to?” Grandpa winced like he’d stubbed his toe and turned around real slow, to find grandma standing at the top of the stairs in her nightgown, with her arms crossed and tapping her foot. Needless to say, we ended up going to church, and the lake had to wait until next week.
He had a beat-up walnut rocking chair on his back porch, and his tradition was to sit in it every Sunday evening to “give the week a ponder.” When I was born, he made me my own toddler-sized chair. Every few years he'd make me a slightly bigger one, and my brother would get the hand-me-down, until finally he made us both chairs the same size as his. We used to sit out there on his back porch in the evenings together, as the sun sank down over the horizon. He'd crack open two root beers and one regular beer, plunk down a big burlap bag full of in-shell peanuts and sit there slowly puffing on his pipe, (he was a Sir Walter Raleigh man, for those who want to know) looking out over the world and happy as a clam. Pepper would pester us for a while, wanting to play fetch or just see what we were doing, but eventually she'd settle down next to grandpa, and he'd smile at her and call her a good dog. Sometimes we'd listen to bluegrass, sometimes we'd listen to the Allman Brothers, and sometimes we'd listen to nothing but the wind through the leaves and the frogs and crickets chirruping away down by the creek. The fireflies would start to twinkle out in the trees, and once the stars came out, if we were very lucky, he’d be in the mood to tell a story or two.
On our weekend visits, Monday mornings were always the worst. Grandpa would wake us up at the crack of dawn by sitting in the chair in our room and trying to play his banjo. Grandma would feed us something filling like biscuits or grits, then give us our lunch bags and a peck on the cheek, and grandpa would drive us back into town and drop us off at school. Every time, just before he drove away, he'd say, "Don't you kids take any wooden nickels, you hear?" He'd say that every time with a big goofy grin, even when we were both older and just rolled our eyes. After that it was back to life as usual, like time had sped back up.
Then one day he was just… gone. His heart gave out on him as he was getting up after breakfast. I’m told that he was dead within minutes, and that as heart attacks go it was a relatively peaceful death. Grandma was inconsolable, and dad had to be the rock for all of us. At the graveside service, the sun was up and the sky was blue. The birds were chirping, and I remember immaturely and sadly thinking that it wasn't fair for the world to keep on having beautiful days like that when he was dead. When the men in white uniforms folded his flag and handed it to my father, “on behalf of the President of the United States,” the man completely broke down. Suddenly, he wasn't my father anymore, he wasn't a grown man still bitter over the way he’d been raised. He took it with shaking hands, looked down at it, then crumpled in on himself and sobbed like a little boy who’d just lost his daddy. I have never before or since seen him like that, and I dread the day it will be me in that chair. The casket went down into the ground, and now all I have of Grandpa are memories.
Now that he's gone, the world feels like a smaller place. There aren't many people like that anymore. Boys need father figures to guide them into men, and I am proud and grateful that one of my role models was a man like my grandfather. I wish I could have known him longer. Those calm evenings in that back yard with my grandpa, those are some of the happiest memories I have. I hope that one day I'll be lucky enough to make more with my own grandkids.
Out of Duane Allmans 10 greatest solos this was in those top 10. The warmth of those pickups and his unmatched ability as a professional is a Mozart type solo that will last forever. I seen him twice and in Rolling Stone Magazine 1971 he was voted second greatest player of all times. To this day he remains the greatest I have ever listened to. This Man set the standard for how music was to be performed.
When I listen to this song and to this version in particular one word a feeling comes to mind over and over HOPE. Just a hopeful feeling on life in general and no matter how bad things may appear to be there is Blue Sky for me and for you.
this is as good as it gets they are all locked and loaded berry oakly is right between them following both note for note amazing such a tight knit group
OMG!!!! Never heard this concert of my fave ABB song.. Crying now ….🥲 Amazing when Duane just sits on a note through chord changes, or when Dickey just repeats a simple pattern over and over, my heart prays he never stops.. R.I.P. Duane and Dickey 🌹🌹
With out a doubt the very best at any time of the free years. I seen Duane once at age 15, and I remember Blue Sky was a well known track and Duane combined with Dickey went off on this solo for 15 minutes! To this day I have never listen to any solo or those so called top 10 Rolling Stone greatest guitarist come close to Sky Dog! It was a flow of magic that I have never seen or listened to, to this day. If you compare his body of work to any one else, and there is no one who comes close. I can close with only one word that best describes Duane, “Amazing”.
Oh, my heart. Such a great song and I miss seeing them at their Beacon run SO much. . I was at their famous show at the Fillmore East. SO many years ago. So amazing.🥺 I taught art and had an old big box record player . I used to play ABB, and Hendrix and other bands. I ran into an old student and she said she became a big ABB fan because of me and remembers the music as much as the art projects. :*-) At least we have Gov't Mule and Allman Betts band and TTB but nothing compares to the Allman Brothers experience.
Beautiful song written by underrated Dickie Betts.I think Blue Sky defined the Southern Sound more than any other song They both play so wonderful together and skydog well just keep flying! Wonder if DUane at the time of this performance was playing his Tobacco Sunburst Gibson?
Nothing like a pentatonic major scale to make you think of a bful blue sky. Duane n Dicky both understood this. I get chills with Duane’s first solo playing on the front pickup ‘the mother tone’. So warm. RIP Duane. Hooe you n your brother are together again playing bful music. Who the hell plays like this anymore? Seriously? Jeezus….
E major, otherwise known as the Dickey Betts scale! It's actually more challenging to stay in major than minor. Dickey was the major scale king. Only 2 Septic Tank guitarists i would rate in my top 10.
Yeah I think so too. For unique beautiful melodic creativity and ability, it's Duane for me. Brilliantly loose and natural yet so tight all the while. I love some personal favorite greats like Mick Taylor, Rory Gallagher, Jimi, Ross the Boss. But Duane takes it. One of the most tastefully talented musicians of all time.
rankoutsider His feel can't be beat. Other rock/ blues/ jam guitarists might be more technical, some may play faster, but I've yet to hear another guitarist with the expression Duane had. Also. no one I've heard comes close to his slide abilities. Mountain Jam is the reason I have the flying peach on my back and when I'm on my way out from this world is the song I plan on going up with.
Hear those wonderful Western swing/bluegrass inflections that drive the lovely groove of this DB song? This very early rendition brings both tears and ear-to-ear smiles. Perfection.
This was all Duane, Betts never had the ferocity or the smooth tone. Dickie doesn't play lead until almost 6 and a half minutes in. Hear how shrill his bark was, not fluid like Allman.
The sound quality is better on this, but Duane’s solo on the 9/16/71 Warehouse NOLA Blue Sky is his best. If you get your hands on that recording, also recognize that’s his best Elizabeth Reed solo too
This always reminds me of driving around Peach Co., GA in the spring...when the peach trees are blooming. For those who are not familiar with the geography its about 20 miles southwest of Macon, GA.
Some pro-shot footage of Atlanta Pop Fest 1970 has begun to surface… Every Hungry Woman, Statesboro. Look for it, it’s a treasure and my still be on RUclips
This song represents the like of what we would have heard from them for many years, they would have had the time, the money and the security to full express their creativity. When Duane passed, this hit me like a sledge hammer. I was amazed at Dickies resilience however. When Duane passed, the world lost a great man and brilliant recordings that were never made. We should be greatful that he recorded as much as he did.
I am so fortunate I was at this show at Stony Brook as well as Watkins Glen and RFK Stadium with the Dead. These were the golden days for sure
May they all be free from the pain and shackles of this material world and play forever in the spiritual sky with George Harrison (who showed me the way back home). Hari bol !!!
Started seeing both the ABB & Dead in 1974 -- Nassau Coliseum and Roosevelt Stadium, respectively...that was the summer of my musical awakening!
If this isn't playing at my funeral, I'm not going!
me too
Well hell, then I'm not going either...
YEP
One of the very best songs ever, man Duane and Dickie were amazing
It's Aug 4, 2020 and I've listened to this song every week for the last 5 years...and still get emotional. Yes, the beautiful contrast and yet understanding between Duane and Dickey is without equal...I am still humbled at the passion and soul they express between themselves. Whomever, wherever, could have this heartful bond that rips my heart everytime I hear this. Whomever reads this, I just want you to know that my two sons were raised on this, and despite their life long careers in the military, STILL... get full of love and emotion when the three of us hear this....there will never be another band this expressive, EVER...Thanks ABB...Yes, this will be played at my funeral...! Yeeah !
Everything you said hits home! The Brothers were a Band of Brothers and they respected each other and gave themselves space to hear those special fills and accents that make them so musical and without pretense. Love these guys!
Amen.
I couldn't agree more I also want this song played when they lay me to rest... This is the greatest song ever written as far as I'm concerned...It brings both tears of joy and sadness and I will miss them all the rest of my days... Thank you ABB for all the great music😅😢
This is the best version on Blue Sky. Fills my heart with love and eyes full of tears.
Same brother 1:46
Thank God for Duane Allman. His short stay among us was truly a blessing.
He's in Heaven
Soar Duane, soar into the blue sky and the sun!
You got that right!!!
Duane was such a class act. He loved the music more than anything. Never hesitated to rejoice and praise the brilliance of Dickey Betts. Those early Allman Brothers... magical stuff.
This is probably the greatest jam I've ever heard!!! Jesus!!
Not Jesus, it's Duane!
no shit sherlock! I wholeheartedly agree!!! YOWZA!
I think this is like one of 4 recordings (at most) with Duane playing. Personally, this is hands down the best version from Live at SUNY Stonybrook. Damn tasty solos
@@MikeCoggan I really wish Duane could’ve lived man, blue sky was fucking amazing with Duane on it , still great without but other worldly with him. I can only imagine how many more great songs there would have been
@@neillbaxter9613 yes, quite the body of work at a young age. Loan Me a Dime with Boz Scaggs is amazing too.
I burst into tears just now as Dickey began to sing. And this version is so special and true to everything that I fell in love with these guys when I first heard them in 1972 when I was 14. As they all slowly leave, a huge chunk of my musical heart goes with them. Rest in peace Dickey Betts. Say hi to Duane for all of us. Keep on flowing. Don't worry about where we're going.
I know the feeling Dave...I'm with ya all the way ! Peace brother.
🐝🌹🌈✌️👌
When the dark clouds of discouragement in melancholiness develop over my head I listen to The Allman Brothers to bring the blue sky.
Well said !
Duane and Dickey make this song fly…..Berry’s Bass is the most unbelievable 4 string lead ever recorded… man the bands upstairs make ya can’t wait until you can see them again…Ride In Peace brothers and sisters
Berry Oakley ladies and Gennamen!
Absolutely love this! Who else is still listening to this, in 2020? BTW: Any guy that has ever been in love can totally relate to these lyrics, "Lord you know, it makes me high, when you turn your love my way" ... isn't that what life is all about??? BTW: Dickey Betts wrote this song for his beautiful Native American girl friend, "Sandy Blue Sky Wabegijig". If you have ever seen the beautiful "Sandy Blue Sky", you could plainly see how Dickey was so inspired to write such a beautiful song!
Exactly 💯 percent correct!!!!-03/01/2023/💜💜💜💜💜💜💜👍⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Thank you very much for that info 🐝🌹🌈✌️
@@JulieCarey-y1n btw: they later married and had a child together.
This is a great version of a great song. Blue Sky is one of my all time get happy, be happy, peaceful loving life songs. I cannot believe I have never heard this version and I believe it has the possibility of becoming my favorite get happy be happy, good morning song for a beautiful upstate NY late September 45 degree temp fog lifting to a deep blue sun shinning without a care in the world sky. Thank you for posting.
This recording was in upstate New York at Stony Brook.
Some people will never taste the sweetness of this.
this is so much better than anything... I cannot believe how passionate and beautiful and transcendent this is... what a great great great song and performance... chill bumps... I hope that they felt it when they played it... I cannot believe how good this is...
don't worry Randy I think they felt it.
Chill bumps every time I hear this recording of Blue Sky. The best recording, my favorite.
Both dicky and Duane rock!! This is their finest version. There are only three live recording of blue sky before Duane died
I have never before or since encountered so clear an example of the phrase, "pouring one's soul into their music" than this song. If they didn't feel it, then I'm the Queen of England.
Duane and the Brothers always ‘felt’ the music 😊❤️🎸🍄🍑🎶🎶✌️♾
"We have a new song for you". Who would have known that this was going to be an icon in the musical history of rock...
Incredible how life works...
Followed them since they were 16 - 17 yrs old playing all the coastal cities & towns in FL , ALA, MISS.When I first heard them they were called White Trash. Our bass player dated Dwayne so we got to know them. Dwayne invited us to play at 2nd Atlanta pop festival. Dwayne played guitar for 12 hrs a day 365. Slept w/ it literally. Never forget them. Dickie , thank God, survives & plays beyond words. If you want to play for a living you have to do as Dwayne did - treat it as a full time job & play all day & night. They were our Gods & we went to every gig we cud possibly attend, even as kids. Nothing in my life has ever compared to those days listening to them & playing their type of music. Dwayne's guitar ripped the air to shreds !
Wow, What a bunch of memories to have stored. Hopefully, your hard drive isn't to fragmented and you can replay this memory into a single, personal live, very young performance without shitting your pants.
Just beautiful, Ive been listening to this song for 50 years and it always sounds new
Dickey Betts and Duane Allman, not surprisingly, are amazing on this tune... the whole band is locked in. But maybe because I am a bassist as well as a guitarist, I got to stop and give some love to Berry Oakley. Berry just had the perfect bass sound for the Allmans and knew just where to fit into things for maximum effect. They've had some very nice bass players in the band since Berry passed, but no one who could really fill his shoes. No dishonor there, because those were some big ones to fill!
Best recording in music history!! I have to listen to this every night of my life!
Berry Oakley was a badass
Allen Woody too tho ;)
@@fuckingyankeeblue - I liked the late Allen Woody's playing a lot, but it did not seem as unique and innovative as Oakley's did. Your mileage may vary, of course. And Woody deserves major props for carrying on the Allman Brothers name and legacy.
I suppose what I mean is that you can't really replace a legend. Those shoes of Oakley's were too-big to fill. If Woody had been the guy at the start, and Oakley replacing him, maybe we'd be speaking about it differently, but it is a very tall order to replace the likes of Berry Oakley. Then or now. That's no disrespect to an obviously very talented musician in his own right in the late Mr. Woody.
This is a rare treat. The only live version of "Blue Sky" I've ever heard with the the original (greatest) lineup. thx
It is apparently the only known live recording in existence
No, there's at least one more live version of Blue Sky with Duane....it may have been from a different set from the same venue, because I clicked on this thinking it was the same recording that I downloaded off of Kazaa a few years back. This version is a little longer than the other version I heard (the other ran a little over 9 minutes), and this one has much better sound quality!
if you search for "Blue Sky live 1971", a few different renditions with Duane pop up! One poster, I think "German Opera Singer" said that there are 5 known live recordings of Blue Sky with Duane....plus I think that's one of the songs they were rehearsing on "The Gatlinburg Tapes", if I'm not mistaken
klmullins65 Thx; Yeah, good old "German Opera Singer" (whoever he or she is) has some great uploads.
- Hey now- I've got soundboard recording of ''Blue Sky" from the Warehouse in New Orleans 3/16/ 1971 which is way hotter than this take- and a live out take from a practice in Macon dated 5/71 which is a Quad mix from "Eat a Peach" rehearsals and/or practice of "Blue sky" "stand back" and "Little Marthra'' ( with berry oakley on bass) - very good and alternate takes
Give props to Dickey. Duane never would have played this song without him
Especially given that Dickey wrote the song!
I love that this song features incredibly lengthy solos by both.
Blue Sky was one of Duane's favorite songs, the band played it at Duane's funeral! It's one of Dickey's best songs and always will be!
True.
Louis blue sky was not played at Duane's funeral however it was the last studio recording that Duane Allman did with the band....
I have to listen to this every day. 3 times or more
Same! My favorite all time all genre song!
I've been listening to this song every day for about 8 years now. I go to sleep to it every night. This group brings tears to my eyes every time I listen to this song.
My mother was born and raise in Macon, Ga...when she heard me listening to the Brothers in the early 80s she said "those boys are from Macon can't you find something better" I said no....Still can't
your mother is correct.
wonders how could anyone cram more joy into one song? Guitar as an instrument of ecstasy.
Well said!
I love Berry's bass playing!
Definitely . It tends to be forgotten with Duane Allman and Dickie Betts but Oakley certainly played a significant role
Christ this is so much better than every version Dickey ever played after Duane died. Always was a great tune, probably my favorite Allman Brothers studio song. The missing ingredient, the icing on the cake is Duane's guitar here and on the original studio recording. Even when they did it years later with Warren (trying to) playing Duane's parts it just didn't have the smoothness, that incredible beauty Duane brought to every song he ever played.
Facts
There are only 4 recordings total with Duane and this is far and away the best one.
I have followed this band for over half a century and have no plans on stopping.Guys, play for ever.
high praise and blessings upon whoever decided to record this show
Duane, with EC, both on a drug binge, 1970 - Miami, after an Allman Brothers concert. Live jams.. Proved how incredible Duane was. EC was floored, and eventually inspired by him... Layla came out of these incredible jams. Duane, dead too soon....
I saw the Allman Brothers in Feb. 1973 at Cincinnatti Gardens.Their songs turned into long jams.I was never the same person after that night!
If you love guitar, this is it. Great song. Thanks Dicky Betts.
Yeah, thanks Dickie, for writing the song. This is all Duane, not Dickie.
Dude. Haha. Fing thank DUANE ! Geez
My favorite version of this song. Duane's solo is just mind-blowing.
I cannot count how many times I have played this amazing version. It gets better each time. Recorded over 40 years ago and you can still feel the energy and excitement of Duane and the band as if they were playing it today.
The sound quality on this post is very good. I don't think they ever played any song the same way twice, but they were always great. I think that is a testament to them being played from the heart. Dickey said, in a fairly current interview, that he hadn't written in a while, but wanted to. He said, and I paraphrase, he didn't want his music to sound contrived, like it was written, just to be written. There you go, a genuine, original.
How often do you get two beautiful guitar players playing together. I'm grateful to have seen one of them live and grateful that there are recordings of both of them together. They complimented each other so well. Can never get tired of this song-work of art
Fleetwood Mac: Peter Green/Danny Kirwan; Wishbone Ash: Ted Turner/Andy Powell - Laurie Wisefield/Andy Powell
This is got to be one of the best if not thee best presentation of this song I have ever heard.
this one was life changing
I saw the Allman Brothers at Madison Square Garden in 1973. Best concert I ever saw. They played for over 3 hours. They kept on coming out for oncores. Great music to see live and to hear stoned.
Please play this at my funeral
Thank you so much for posting this gem,.. my late , oldest brother was a true fan , and grew up listening and playing too the Allman Bros, my late youngest brother, a spectacular guitar player, self taught on the Les Paul, listening to my ole cassettes , and albums,... missing them both today, this wonderful recording of “Blue Sky” really made my day....
This is a special song for me, because it reminds me of the greatest man I ever had the privilege of knowing, my grandfather. If you have a few minutes and want to read about a much loved dead man who did a lot of good in the world, read on, because I want to tell you a story, the story of a grandpa from the eyes of his grandson. I might get a little long winded with it, so I apologize in advance for the wall of text.
He was a good man, grandpa. A kind man. That's how I would describe him if I had to narrow it down to one word. After serving in the Navy, he married my grandma and settled down in the green rolling country in a big farmhouse with a wraparound porch. My little brother and I were lucky enough to spend a lot of time there growing up, I’d say almost half the weekends we were in school, and as often as we could over the summer and winter breaks. It was a bit over a 30 minute drive outside of town, out where life was slower. At a bend in the road, a long-abandoned farm implement covered with wild roses marked the driveway, the first half of which they shared with their next door neighbors. Honeysuckle, blackberries, and ivy had overgrown the fence all the way up the long drive, and sitting at the end of it was almost always grandpa’s 1972 red and white Chevy pickup. The house itself was surrounded by green grass and sprawling, stately hardwoods, with a winding creek cutting through the back yard. There was a gnarled grapevine that grew along a wire between a couple of posts out back that grandpa waged a constant war with every "critter" within 10 miles over, and deep, earthy smelling beds framed with railroad ties up front, full of colorful shrubs and flowers like gardenias and daffodils. One of the neighbors kept honeybees, so the flowers were constantly buzzing with them. Azalea bushes dotted the yard, along with a couple of dogwood and magnolia trees. The front porch was a perfect spot for a cold glass of lemonade after you’d mowed the lawn or weeded the beds, and grandma had windchimes and hummingbird feeders set up out there by the hanging bench. The oak front door was solid and heavy, with a painted sailing ship carved into the outside.
Walking inside, it felt like a _home,_ like you were welcome and loved. Everything in it had a story, from the intricate little brass steam engine displayed on the mantle to the black and white picture hanging in the hallway of grandpa and his friends when they were young, smiling and waving next to the Eiffel Tower. Their chairs were set up next to each other in the living room, his a brown leather recliner, hers a smaller red fabric one. So many things in that house he made himself, like the railings on the stairs or the kitchen cabinets. He had a little man cave off to the side with a round window, and a sign on the door that said, “Pirates ONLY!” and he used to watch old movies or The Andy Griffith Show in there and "practice" on his banjo, which even as kids we could tell he couldn't play worth a damn. (But that didn't stop him from trying!) There was an antique cash register on a side table in there, the kind that went “DING!” and he would always make a huge show of paying us quarters out of it for doing chores.
The house as I remember it was always busy. They knew the mailman's name. That's just alien to my mind today. Who knows their mailman's name these days? There were family and friends coming and going all the time, especially in the summertime when he hosted the neighborhood fish fry out back. Something was always cooking in the kitchen, either for us or for the next door neighbors who were basically like family to them. It was a rare day when you couldn’t find either some homemade cookies in the jar, or a pecan or buttermilk pie on the counter. Grandma hosted bible studies and bridge games in the living room for her church friends, and grandpa liked to get his friends together for poker in the evenings, where, with reruns of “Gunsmoke” playing softly in the background, they'd crack inappropriate jokes and let us kids sneak sips of their drinks, if grandma hadn't already sent us up to bed, tut-tutting at everyone involved.
And not just people, but animals. They kept a few chickens out back next to the vegetable garden, so of course when we came over we got saddled with egg duty. I vaguely remember a goat who died when I was very young, and even after that he was a foster father for dogs for many years, so there were always dogs of all kinds coming and going, despite grandma's constant insistence that they stay outside the house. (Although she loved them too!) He cared for them all, and was always sad when he had to let them go. Eventually a collie/retriever puppy named Pepper stole his heart, and he decided that he was too old for more fostering, so Pepper got to stay. She had a spot on the corner of the front porch where the sun would shine in the mornings, and grandpa liked to sit out there with her when he drank his coffee.
His hands were rough, and he had a deep scar on his left index finger from when he almost lost it to a band saw. He had a patchy brown and grey beard, and was fond of scratchy flannel shirts and white pocket handkerchiefs. He wore brown shoes that smelled like old polish, a brown leather belt with a shiny brass buckle cast in the shape of an oak leaf, and he always smelled like cedar trees and tobacco. He carried a whittling knife and a lucky buckeye in his pocket, and it felt like everytime he wasn’t doing something with his hands, he was fiddling with one of them. He had this look that he'd give people, as though they were both partners in crime and planning some big heist. His bushy old-man eyebrows would wiggle and you'd see a twinkle in his eye, then he'd wink and give you a sly grin. Whenever he laughed, it was genuine. He'd cock his head to one side like he was really thinking over what was funny, then he'd throw it back and let loose this booming laugh that made everyone nearby want to laugh, too.
There aren't many hearts in this world as genuinely kind and compassionate as my grandpa’s was, although he might have disagreed with me. If you did something good, he'd be the first person to point it out and appreciate it. If you did something bad, he was right there reminding you that you were better than that, because he saw the good in you. I don't have a single memory of him getting angry with me when I misbehaved, and I assure you, I did sometimes. He was one of those rare people who could ignore the tough or angry or grumpy face you tried to put on and look right down into your soul to see everything that was beautiful in it.
He was madly in love with my grandma, and even near the end they used to put on a very old record and slow dance in their living room, and grandpa would ask me for pointers on his footwork as grandma laughed and told him not to make an ass of himself. "You didn't need any pointers the last time we danced, are you losing your memory, dear?" "No, darling, but sometimes I wish I was so I could fall in love with you all over again." At the dinner table, it wasn't uncommon for them to try to throw little pieces of food into each other's mouths with us sitting there watching, then giggle like school kids when they (usually) missed. Not very grandparenty at all, that last bit. Grandma is never without her Boston Baked Beans, they're her favorite candy. She had a small jar of them on the kitchen counter that she'd nibble from, and grandpa was always hiding it around the house with little hand written love letters taped to it. One time he handed me the jar with his note on it and said, "Here son, go hide this where your grandma will find it." So, being 6 years old, I immediately ran out to the shed and climbed up onto the cluttered workbench so I could reach the highest shelf, and stuffed it as far back behind all the tools and dusty boxes and jars of tacks as I could get it. Feeling rather proud of myself, I turned around to see grandpa standing in the doorway, smiling and wagging his finger at me.
He loved malted milkshakes, and had a much-used drinkmaster that he made them in. It was a tradition that when we came over, grandpa would have three milkshakes ready to go. Mom or dad would drop us off and we'd charge up the front steps, hug grandma at the door and drop off our backpacks, then, usually forgetting to take our shoes off, we'd fly through the living room and around the corner into the kitchen where grandpa would throw his arms out and yell something like, "HEY, YOU HOOLIGANS! WHAT ARE YOU KIDS DOING IN MY HOUSE!" Then we'd all get milkshakes to kick off the visit.
We were close, the three of us. He was always wanting to do things, especially going fishing. If there was nothing to do, we’d walk over to a nearby pond and cast some lines, or we’d get up early to drive out to the lake and spend the day on a small pier with a picnic basket grandma always packed full for us. He was friends with a crusty, cantankerous old charter boat captain who for some reason went by the name “Cornbread,” and we drove down to the coast a few times to charter his boat and go deep sea fishing on the gulf stream. If it wasn’t fishing, he took us camping and showed us how to make a fire, out for a day of target practice at the range, or down to the local bar with its perennial bunch of friendly regulars so he could teach us to play pool. He even took us up to the mountains to go skiing one time, although by then he was too old to do any skiing himself.
-continued in comments
I honestly thought grandma was going to have a heart attack one time. I had been upstairs trying to do my homework for the weekend, when I heard grandpa yelling outside. I ran downstairs and my little brother was standing in the back yard looking sheepish, covered head to toe in mud from the creek. You could see his teeth and the whites of his eyes, and the rest was mud. Grandpa was almost crying he was laughing so hard as he got the hose out. Then he stopped, and that familiar twinkle came into his eye. "Actually, boys, I have a better idea." Half an hour later, all three of us were covered in mud, laughing our butts off and throwing clumps of it at each other. When grandma got home, she was, to put it mildly, not happy. But it was worth it.
Like anyone, of course, he wasn't perfect. His relationship with my dad was never the best, although there was love there. Apparently he was dismissive of my dad when he was younger and tried to pigeonhole him into the sort of man grandpa thought he should be. He was hard on him to the point of meanness, and wasn't supportive of my dad's ideas, so this caused a lot of resentment and bitterness, but never open hostility, at least not in front of us kids. My dad was always a little standoffish about anything to do with grandpa, and for the most part just let us kids do things with him. I'm told grandpa mellowed significantly in the years leading up to my birth, and that he regretted how he raised his son. Dad was into the Allman Brothers Band in the 70's, and so grandpa had a lot of his old records that he didn't take with him. Unlike a lot of dads, he actually listened to his son's music and tried to appreciate it even though he was a bit before its time, I now suspect out of a desire to reconcile or atone. One that he really liked was the "Eat a Peach" album, and it wasn't uncommon to hear it playing out in his work shed as he was puttering away at some project, with Pepper hovering underfoot and wagging her tail. This song, Blue Sky was his favorite. To this day I can't hear it without thinking of him. It makes me think of the smell of sawdust, and that happy-go-lucky dog.
He used to take us both to the barbershop in town and we'd go get ice cream afterwards, and he always paid the lady behind the counter for an extra cone, for the next customer. You remember stuff like that when you're a kid. You watch it and learn from it, which is, I think, maybe why he did it. He always got peach ice cream. Every time. He’d take one lick then say, “Boys, I do believe I’d walk 20 miles in no shoes for peach ice cream,” to which we usually groaned and went, “We know, grandpa!” I remember one time we were on our way to the hardware store for who knows what, and he stopped to help a random family with their broken down car. He couldn’t get it to start, and it turned out they were on their way to a wedding, so he insisted on giving them a ride to the church, and my brother and I had to ride in the bed of the truck! He got their phone number and a few days later he made a point to call them and see if everything worked out. He was like that.
On Sunday mornings, Grandma would make sure we were presentable, then the four of us would go to church. Sometimes there’d be a potluck afterwards, sometimes we’d go to this hole in the wall bbq restaurant with an older couple who my grandparents were friends with, and sometimes we’d just go home and relax. I remember one weekend, we had wanted to go to the lake on Saturday, but we got rained out. So before sunup on Sunday, grandpa crept into our room, already wearing his smelly, tattered fishing vest covered with lures and doodads, and quietly got us kids ready. The three of us had made it down the stairs and were almost to the door when we heard, “And just where do you boys think you’re off to?” Grandpa winced like he’d stubbed his toe and turned around real slow, to find grandma standing at the top of the stairs in her nightgown, with her arms crossed and tapping her foot. Needless to say, we ended up going to church, and the lake had to wait until next week.
He had a beat-up walnut rocking chair on his back porch, and his tradition was to sit in it every Sunday evening to “give the week a ponder.” When I was born, he made me my own toddler-sized chair. Every few years he'd make me a slightly bigger one, and my brother would get the hand-me-down, until finally he made us both chairs the same size as his. We used to sit out there on his back porch in the evenings together, as the sun sank down over the horizon. He'd crack open two root beers and one regular beer, plunk down a big burlap bag full of in-shell peanuts and sit there slowly puffing on his pipe, (he was a Sir Walter Raleigh man, for those who want to know) looking out over the world and happy as a clam. Pepper would pester us for a while, wanting to play fetch or just see what we were doing, but eventually she'd settle down next to grandpa, and he'd smile at her and call her a good dog. Sometimes we'd listen to bluegrass, sometimes we'd listen to the Allman Brothers, and sometimes we'd listen to nothing but the wind through the leaves and the frogs and crickets chirruping away down by the creek. The fireflies would start to twinkle out in the trees, and once the stars came out, if we were very lucky, he’d be in the mood to tell a story or two.
On our weekend visits, Monday mornings were always the worst. Grandpa would wake us up at the crack of dawn by sitting in the chair in our room and trying to play his banjo. Grandma would feed us something filling like biscuits or grits, then give us our lunch bags and a peck on the cheek, and grandpa would drive us back into town and drop us off at school. Every time, just before he drove away, he'd say, "Don't you kids take any wooden nickels, you hear?" He'd say that every time with a big goofy grin, even when we were both older and just rolled our eyes. After that it was back to life as usual, like time had sped back up.
Then one day he was just… gone. His heart gave out on him as he was getting up after breakfast. I’m told that he was dead within minutes, and that as heart attacks go it was a relatively peaceful death. Grandma was inconsolable, and dad had to be the rock for all of us. At the graveside service, the sun was up and the sky was blue. The birds were chirping, and I remember immaturely and sadly thinking that it wasn't fair for the world to keep on having beautiful days like that when he was dead. When the men in white uniforms folded his flag and handed it to my father, “on behalf of the President of the United States,” the man completely broke down. Suddenly, he wasn't my father anymore, he wasn't a grown man still bitter over the way he’d been raised. He took it with shaking hands, looked down at it, then crumpled in on himself and sobbed like a little boy who’d just lost his daddy. I have never before or since seen him like that, and I dread the day it will be me in that chair. The casket went down into the ground, and now all I have of Grandpa are memories.
Now that he's gone, the world feels like a smaller place. There aren't many people like that anymore. Boys need father figures to guide them into men, and I am proud and grateful that one of my role models was a man like my grandfather. I wish I could have known him longer. Those calm evenings in that back yard with my grandpa, those are some of the happiest memories I have. I hope that one day I'll be lucky enough to make more with my own grandkids.
@@robertbrown3064 this was nice to read. thanks
@robertbrown3064 beautiful story told by an amazing storyteller. Grandparents are there, and then they are gone. It's how the world works. Thank you
Out of Duane Allmans 10 greatest solos this was in those top 10. The warmth of those pickups and his unmatched ability as a professional is a Mozart type solo that will last forever. I seen him twice and in Rolling Stone Magazine 1971 he was voted second greatest player of all times. To this day he remains the greatest I have ever listened to. This Man set the standard for how music was to be performed.
No one ever made it sound better. Duane we'll be there with you soon.
Yes we will Bluesky. Thank you for the inspiration for such a beautiful song.
When I listen to this song and to this version in particular one word a feeling comes to mind over and over HOPE. Just a hopeful feeling on life in general and no matter how bad things may appear to be there is Blue Sky for me and for you.
My favorite, I wish I could have gone to Watkins Glen to see my THREE FAVORITE BANDS. The Allman's, the Grateful Dead, and the Band !!
Wow. Wish new music was just half as good as this.
Duane and Dickey left the world on this. Amazing.
Agreed, I can listen to this all day. When musicians were talented.
Get rid of rap/hip hop. For starters.
@@danielgolus4600 Now we've got Billy Strings. William Apostol writes, sings, plays, jams. Reminds me of this music.
DUANE FUCKING ALLMAN...dude this cat was the best guitar player ever... Dicky was a king to, the betts allman duo was the best!
Everyone else is second.
Facts bro !
ABSOLUTELY THE FINEST LIVE DUAL GUITAR PERFORMANCE EVER -- SAW THEM DO THIS IN THE WAREHOUSE IN NO JUST BEFORE DUANES CRASH - STILL CAN HEAR IT
No better way to start off a fall Sunday morning than listening to this.
Any morning !
It's a fall Sunday morning once again
I need to hear this every morning and night
Duane Allman- power, rhythm and melody. One of a kind
If there’s a definition to the term timeless classic, this song’s it 🤙
Yes, the world could use a little more Blue Sky and I think it would be a better place!!
This when 4 became 1 with two magical musicians two guitars to make One beautiful song.
Best concert ever. Watkins Glen. ABB The band and Greatfull Dead
this is as good as it gets they are all locked and loaded berry oakly is right between them following both note for note amazing such a tight knit group
Berry was a damned good bass player. I learned a lot from him listening to his bass in the early 70-ties
My God what magic Duane was way ahead of his time! He is surely missed one of the best! RIP my brother!!!
I love anything the Allman Brothers Band ever did , but is one of my favorite songs in the world...This is absolute perfection ❤😅
My oh my, but dem down home boys sure could play. All these years later they still can’t be beat
A month before Duane died. What a legacy .... world-respected incredible music.
OMG!!!!
Never heard this concert of my fave ABB song..
Crying now ….🥲
Amazing when Duane just sits on a note through chord changes, or when Dickey just repeats a simple pattern over and over, my heart prays he never stops..
R.I.P. Duane and Dickey 🌹🌹
duane's tone was so effortless... what a genius.
God ( or any other divinity) bless him.
Indeed, great way to start every day.Up beat and thankful for what you have.
With out a doubt the very best at any time of the free years. I seen Duane once at age 15, and I remember Blue Sky was a well known track and Duane combined with Dickey went off on this solo for 15 minutes! To this day I have never listen to any solo or those so called top 10 Rolling Stone greatest guitarist come close to Sky Dog! It was a flow of magic that I have never seen or listened to, to this day. If you compare his body of work to any one else, and there is no one who comes close. I can close with only one word that best describes Duane, “Amazing”.
I like the "round" style sound~
I’m always sad when I realize just how much Duane’s guitar playing would have progressed if he had not died so young (24 y/o)
Berry Oakley holding it all together with his Bass . Fuckin awesome
Oh, my heart. Such a great song and I miss seeing them at their Beacon run SO much. . I was at their famous show at the Fillmore East. SO many years ago. So amazing.🥺 I taught art and had an old big box record player . I used to play ABB, and Hendrix and other bands. I ran into an old student and she said she became a big ABB fan because of me and remembers the music as much as the art projects. :*-) At least we have Gov't Mule and Allman Betts band and TTB but nothing compares to the Allman Brothers experience.
This is from Stonneybrook, Duane passed months after this great show!!! RIP to one of the greatest 100 percent
Man i wish there was a video of this
Beautiful song written by underrated Dickie Betts.I think Blue Sky defined the Southern Sound more than any other song They both play so wonderful together and skydog well just keep flying! Wonder if DUane at the time of this performance was playing his Tobacco Sunburst Gibson?
hammer44head yes, he was!
Amen
My friend! He played on Gibson SG
blue sky one the best songs EVER.
Nothing like a pentatonic major scale to make you think of a bful blue sky. Duane n Dicky both understood this. I get chills with Duane’s first solo playing on the front pickup ‘the mother tone’. So warm. RIP Duane. Hooe you n your brother are together again playing bful music. Who the hell plays like this anymore? Seriously? Jeezus….
E major, otherwise known as the Dickey Betts scale! It's actually more challenging to stay in major than minor. Dickey was the major scale king. Only 2 Septic Tank guitarists i would rate in my top 10.
Greatest guitar player of all time, if not that, for sure the most precise and on point!
Yeah I think so too. For unique beautiful melodic creativity and ability, it's Duane for me. Brilliantly loose and natural yet so tight all the while. I love some personal favorite greats like Mick Taylor, Rory Gallagher, Jimi, Ross the Boss. But Duane takes it. One of the most tastefully talented musicians of all time.
My favorite. Most musical.
rankoutsider
His feel can't be beat. Other rock/ blues/ jam guitarists might be more technical, some may play faster, but I've yet to hear another guitarist with the expression Duane had. Also. no one I've heard comes close to his slide abilities. Mountain Jam is the reason I have the flying peach on my back and when I'm on my way out from this world is the song I plan on going up with.
Hear those wonderful Western swing/bluegrass inflections that drive the lovely groove of this DB song? This very early rendition brings both tears and ear-to-ear smiles. Perfection.
Same here.
I apologize ...best guitar solo EVER!!!!!
Ditto!!!
Ronnie Van Zant said it best: "hell , Dickey Betts ...he's the God damn Prince of Dixie ..."
That ain't no shit....no offence to Duane.
I want this played at my funeral.
to think i saw them live 12 times i was sooo blesed
Dickie Betts what a player!
It's a blue sky, it's a sunny day, you make it right, when you turn your love my way
WOW! Heard alot of later live versions of this incredible song, but never NEVER this good!!
It don't get no better than this. The day the music died!
Good morning 🌄 💙 RIP Duane Allman ❤️ and Gregg Allman ❤️🌻
By far my absolute favorite solo by Dickey.
This was all Duane, Betts never had the ferocity or the smooth tone. Dickie doesn't play lead until almost 6 and a half minutes in. Hear how shrill his bark was, not fluid like Allman.
@@darrellgaylor76248 are you dumb? dickey's solo in this version is as good as it gets. I enjoy dickey's solo here more than duane's any day
@@darrellgaylor76248how can you like one guitarist and not the other
@@darrellgaylor76248 thank you for writing that. Unfortunately we have to state these facts.
Duane and Dickey's guitars sound so "sweet". The whole band literally sounds like honey. Eat a peach and stick your ear in a honey jar.
what a treat to hear this..brother Duane was takin from us soon after this
King of the strings players hitting the notes.The band is the zone playing this great song.Great vocals ,bass,and drums.Awesome !!!
dat be some bad ass bass
BERRY!!!!!!
This performance really shows how Berry made the band swing!
The sound quality is better on this, but Duane’s solo on the 9/16/71 Warehouse NOLA Blue Sky is his best. If you get your hands on that recording, also recognize that’s his best Elizabeth Reed solo too
Man Duane, could make a guitar speak to the listener. Beautiful song.
Takes me back to high school, Damn Duane you are missed. Looking forward to seeing Brother Gregg again next month
i was born in 72 but still remember driving by it in high school.
This always reminds me of driving around Peach Co., GA in the spring...when the peach trees are blooming. For those who are not familiar with the geography its about 20 miles southwest of Macon, GA.
Duane was the nastiest guitarist, ever. Not putting anyone down. He was just on another level.
i wish there were more videos of Duane with the Brothers.
All they had back then was 8mm film, plus no one knew how famous they would turn out. In 2022 we now record from a cellphone.
@@user-fn5mr4oz4j so sad, what a shame.
Some pro-shot footage of Atlanta Pop Fest 1970 has begun to surface… Every Hungry Woman, Statesboro. Look for it, it’s a treasure and my still be on RUclips
i've never listened such a long guitar solo
it is amazing
This song represents the like of what we would have heard from them for many years, they would have had the time, the money and the security to full express their creativity. When Duane passed, this hit me like a sledge hammer. I was amazed at Dickies resilience however. When Duane passed, the world lost a great man and brilliant recordings that were never made. We should be greatful that he recorded as much as he did.
Written in Love Valley NC during the second Woodstock that the Allman Band played at in the early 70's.
What a masterpiece
Ain't nothing better than this! Best jam of all time!
I like the picture with Duane's name carved in the Georgia clay. What a great player he was
Grande entre los grandes Duane ,con 24 años lo que hiciste no tiene nombre.