The Core: Big Band of Brothers’ Lamar Williams Jr. and Jaimoe
The founding Allman Brothers Band drummer and son of the group’s mid ‘70s bassist embrace their jazzier side.
Photo by Birgit Buchart
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Bringing It All Back Home
LAMAR WILLIAMS JR.: Fortunately, my name was thrown into the pot [to join Big Band of Brothers] after everything was magically put together. [Producer] Charles Driebe and his crew of people—a lot of professors from different universities—put it together and, on the record they made [A Jazz Celebration of The Allman Brothers Band], it’s Marc Broussard and Ruthie Foster singing. Charles thought it would be good for me to come out on the road since I’ve been doing a lot of Allman Brothers[1]related things lately. It’s really cool because Jaimoe gets to play jazz in an Allman Brothers style. It’s full-circle for him and that makes me happy. He and my dad grew up playing jazz in Mississippi, and that’s what they wanted to do. But, of course, that wasn’t paying the bills.
The band—Sammy Miller and The Congregation—is super cool and talented. It’s youthful— just a really great sound. We basically play the album from start to finish. It starts with “Statesboro Blues” and it ends with “Les Brers in A Minor.” Sometimes, we’ll do an encore and mix it up with something like “Ain’t Wasting Time.”
JAIMOE: Everybody wasn’t as hip to jazz as I was when I was growing up. It wasn’t played that much on the pop stations—it was just a different personality. So I only played in like two jazz bands my entire life, but I used to practice this music all the time along with the records. What really knocked me out was when I watched Hallmark’s jazz festival on TV in May of 1959. I was 14. Before that, I would just listen and sing along to everything on the radio. I knew all The Everly Brothers songs—you name them, I’ll sing along. And one of my favorite guys was Ricky Nelson. I always hoped that I would play with him one day, and then he got killed in that goddamn airplane. He was one of my real top guys. Bobby Garrett—man, those guys were something else.
For me, [The Allman Brothers Band] were leaders of this particular style of music, but jazz and blues were everywhere and not just in this country. The blues comes from spiritual music, the begging of, “Oh, Lord, why me now?” It’s this: “Get us out of this. What’s happened?” It’s the same thing happening today, with Russia coming into Ukraine. It just happens over and over again—recycle, recycle, recycle. When I was in high school in Gulfport, Miss., they sent DownBeat to my school, and it was a while before I realized that it came for me because nobody else read the magazine besides maybe a couple of algebra teachers. I read it from front to the back—ads and everything. It was quite interesting to see some of the stuff that was in there. I remember Gillespie said, “We don’t talk about music. We play it.”
But, I did to play with all these groups down on the beach. The clubs used to hire these people to come over and I’d end up in somebody’s band. I also used to play with The Meters—I was their first percussionist. They would come to Gulfport and play a place called The Owl. They didn’t have a bassist yet so Art [Neville] was doing the bass parts. I’d go up there with some tambourines and bongo drums whenever they came to town, and I became their little percussionist. Then they became Mac’s band [Dr. John’s band] and they used to open for The Allman Brothers Band, and it was like, “So here we are again.”
All in the Family
LW: I was that guy trying to make it on my own all these years—as a teenager into my 20s. I was into hip-hop and R&B and, eventually, graduated to the blues. I just hit a point where I was like, “Man, there’s so much good music out here that I haven’t tapped into, let alone what dad was a part of and what’s right there in front of me.”
I had been working on a project with Oteil Burbridge at his house—I met Oteil when I was in the 11th grade. Derek [Trucks] was young back then. He would come around and I would be a fly on the wall with these cats. We were rapping and Oteil was talking about the Beacon and I was like, “I’ve never been to the Beacon.” And he was like, “What! Oh, you’re coming to the Beacon.” So he flies me to New York [in 2014], and I’m up there for like days, bro. I went room to room, rapping with everybody, telling them stories. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but Oteil just said to be ready.
So, I’m just waiting in the wings for about five shows or so—staying out of the way, chatting with everybody. [Longtime Gregg Allman confident] Chank Middleton and my dad were super tight and, one night, he said, “Lamar, come with me.” I go back there to Gregg’s dressing room, Chank says something to him and Gregg says, “Alright, what do you wanna sing, man?” I told him “Midnight Rider” and he looked at me like, “Holy shit, you’re gonna take my song?” They had already done that song a couple of nights before but he said, “Come see me at half time and we’ll see.”
I’m nervous and waiting in the wings like, “Is it gonna happen?” But, right before Gregg got on the elevator, he called down to change the setlist and I came on and we did it.
It was a blessing to be part of such a cool family of musicians—I realized that they were like my extended family. It started there—I realized it was home. And it’s been that way ever since.
But, it’s also been a growth process for me. I’m around so many sharp pieces of iron. It’s like I’m back in school and I’m trying to get my doctorate or something. It is only right that [me, Duane Betts, Devon Allman and Berry Duane Oakley] are all playing Allman Brothers music now. The music is infinite. You do a festival and you see everyone from a three year old to a 93 year old.
JAIMOE: Lamar’s dad taught me how to play bass drum. I used to be in Otis Redding’s band, and he would say, “Hit that motherfucker. If you break it, I’ll buy you another one.” A lot of those cats in the band would say, “You need to play louder, more aggressive.” But we had a guy in the band, Woody Woodson, who taught me as much as Butch Trucks taught me. He grew up in Washington, D.C.; he had played with everyone. He told me, “Man, you are rushing the time—play with the bass player.” It was still developing for me because I learned to play jazz in my mother’s laundry room.
When Lamar Jr. was born, he used to come to my place because I’ve always had a studio at my house. But people get divorced and whatever, and after his dad died, I didn’t see Lamar Jr. for years. He was six or seven when [we lost touch]; I didn’t even know he could sing. I had a jazz band, and, when we played down in Macon, somebody said, “Lamar’s son is gonna open.”
He grew up singing in church and he had an a cappella group. I said, “Man, with all due respect, you’re really good, but you need to get a band and learn how to sing with them. You’re in a completely different class than your singing mates.” I couldn’t believe how good he was. And, after I heard him with a band, he was even better. Because, when you come up as a soloist, you don’t experience a lot of different ways to go.
Reconnecting and Bonding
LW: Jaimoe and I are kindred spirits. It’s as if we’ve been around each other our whole lives. There is this mutual connection and understanding, but I didn’t grow up around him. Long story short: It was sporadic. But starting in my teens, I’d truck up to Atlanta and check out some shows; we would hang out late night at these jazz spots. We never had these super hangs but we just kept reconnecting and bonding all over again. And, for the last 10 years now, we’ve been around each other and connected in a cool sense. We went over to Italy for some The J. & F. Band sessions, this cool project with all these cats from Milan. We are working on Jaimoe’s third album with them.
JAIMOE: When I play with [Lamar], sometimes, I have to realize where I’m at and what’s going on because he reminds me so much of his dad. It’s scary—they are so alike, it’s unbelievable. I had to be careful talking about Devon when Gregory was alive because he reminded me so much of Duane, man—not just his playing, but his attitude. Lamar [Sr.] used to be a drummer. And then he switched to bass when he was about 15 years old. His father had this spiritual singing group Deep South, and Lamar joined them. The old man was glad to see him get into the group but, the next thing you knew, he was the bandleader— he was telling them what to play, what to sing. Lamar was a vocal cat—he was really something else. When we had Sea Level, Lamar was the cat who did all the vocal parts—not Chuck [Leavell], not Jimmy [Hall]. And this kid is really something else. I want to get in a band with him where he’s really got the freedom to do a lot of stuff.
Pandemic Plans
LW: [After The Allman Brothers Band retired from the road in 2014], Butch started playing with Les Brers, but they weren’t doing enough shows. So, in proper Butch fashion, he formed The Freight Train Band and he would have different players, and Luther Dickinson was one of the guys who played with that project. I used to play with a band called Rehab—a rock-rap group from the South—and I would always travel to all these venues and see North Mississippi’s posters on the wall. Flash forward a few years, and I met Luther through Butch.
Then, I played one of the first Allman Family Revivals. Charlie Starr was on that gig and his voice went out, and he came to me before “Come and Go Blues” and asked if I could help out. Luther was standing in the wings watching, and he later told me that he knew he was going to call me after that.
During the pandemic, he called and asked if I wanted to be on the next North Mississippi Allstars album. So I record one song, and he’s like, “That’s great. Can you record another?” We kept recording songs and then it was like, “Sounds like we’re doing a record.” Then, they started touring and asked me to go out, and we ended up in another situation. It was kind of the same way that I ended up joining New Mastersounds. And, next thing you know, I’m in Iceland last fall recording with Eddie Roberts and George Porter Jr. We went to a studio that this billionaire put together, but you would never know it. He is so down to earth—a family man. It is about being in the right place at the right time.
JAIMOE: In July [of 2019], I played Peach Festival and then I came home and had a knee operation in August. So I didn’t play for a while. I went down to Macon and played the Capricorn Revival later that year, but then I didn’t play much until I came up to New York and we closed down the entertainment world on March 10, 2020 [at Madison Square Garden with The Brothers]. It was bittersweet—a piece of history. The sweet part of it is that you closed down the industry; the bitter part of it is also that you closed down the industry. I got into bed when I came home and stayed in bed for 11 days. Between not playing and Little Trucks [Duane Trucks, who played drums with Jaimoe], it wore me out, man. He can play—all them Truckses can play.
I would get up, my wife Catherine would fix me something to eat, I’d eat it, I’d go to the bathroom and then I’d go back to the bed. It was like those things you hear about with Desert Storm and that shit.
[During the pandemic], I had another operation and, when I finally went downstairs, the drums were just sitting there like they weren’t mine. I eventually started tapping on them and, around July, I started practicing. I just did what I’ve been doing all my life. I just put on records and played.
A lot of cats were like, “Don’t you miss playing?” I said, “I’ve been making a living playing since I was 16 years old.” I probably had more in my pockets in school than any other kid.
I finally went out with Big Band of Brothers in February. God just said, “OK, you sit and listen. You do as you’re supposed to do.” The luckiest thing that happened to me is that I didn’t get into Berklee. They said I needed to know how to read music. But this guy from Biloxi went to Berklee and he said, “You don’t need to know any of that stuff.” God has blessed me. I couldn’t be happier—maybe a few little changes, but not very many. Because it was all laid out. When you look back at the history of your life, it’s all laid out.
