The Marshall Tucker Band

Never have I ever – nor did I think I would ever want to – run through a wall on account of a bangin’ flute solo. Then you go to a MTB concert. With 48 years of ‘jam band’ experience, they have perfected the 15 minute song. You’ve never seen more Gray Heads scramble to pull up their Facebook live video feed, with their pointer fingers and reading glasses, than the moment ‘Can’t You See’ becomes apparent in the middle of seriously prolonged intro. (This was also the outro song from our wedding that I wish would have never ended). Chris Hicks knows his way around a guitar better than a sorority girl knows her way around the Starbucks menu – ‘hold the whip’ – and has a piercing southern rock/country/blues voice. Doug Gray would disappear (to the bathroom? – we all know how bladders can get for men his age) for 10 minutes at a time, but his absence was hardly noticed. There were hands in the air bouncing to the rhythm (not exactly “to the rhythm”) like it was an Eninem song, and I nearly tapped a hole in the concrete with my lizard skin boots. At one point Allyson nearly decked me for slapping her leg to hard. Although I wish I could have seen them in their hay day, I would certainly count it as one of the best auditory experiences of my life. It was the equivalent of the ‘green flash’ of a sunset. The show is over, but here’s one last bit of brilliance. If bands can be a spirit animal, this is mine.


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