Lynyrd Skynyrd: The Quality Goes In Before The Name Goes On

I can vaguely remember walking into first-period Spanish class one October morning when I was in the 10th grade and hearing the news of the Lynyrd Skynyrd plane crash. I don’t know how high school kids reacted to the disaster out in, say, Oregon, but where I was (and still am), 70-odd miles south of Skynyrd’s Jacksonville, Florida hometown, it was a black day.

See, Lynyrd Skynyrd wasn’t just another heavy band cranked up on somebody’s car stereo for lunch-period beer and bong hits. They were an affirmation that wild, longhaired North Florida boys were just as good as anybody else—hell, probably better than a lot of folks.

I didn’t really care that much because I hated Lynyrd Skynyrd when I was in high school. I feel a bit weird saying that now, not only because I’ve really come to love their old albums these past few years, but because in retrospect, my disgust for Lynyrd Skynyrd had almost nothing to do with the band itself.

Spending the 1970s in the South, let alone in Skynyrd’s backyard, it was impossible to escape the band’s influence, especially when it came to diggin’ live music. If it wasn’t the 3,000,000,000th wank-a-rama “Southern git-tar army” wannabe hauling out the confederate flag and Jack Dan’I’s onstage, it was the 3,000,000,000th drunk asshole shrieking “Fray-BIRD! Jam some Fray-BIRD!!!” at the Ramones or Van Halen. “Freebird,” jeez. It was practically the national anthem down here. Still is.

But eventually I was able to admit that Lynyrd Skynyrd had no more control over the antics committed by their fans or would-be successors than any other rock band in history (which is to say, none). And I started noticing neat things about ’em, like the way their songs were really gritty and open-ended but deceptively well-composed, and that they hadn’t toned down their image one iota as they became more successful (if anything, they got even more ferallooking), and how keen an eye Ronnie Van Zant had for analyzing human behavior. So I chilled out and became a born-again Skynyrd fan. Fray-BIRD!!!

But the more I got into Lynyrd Skynyrd, the more apparent it was that Ronnie Van Zant had been the visionary, the heartbeat of the whole thing, and that his death was an irretrievable loss to the band. Even if the sound could be maintained, Ronnie Van Zant’s smarts and personality couldn’t, and so for 10 years, Lynyrd Skynyrd was silent, out of respect and out of necessity.

Which brings us to the present Lynyrd Skynyrd Tribute Tour, which started last year and should be moving through Europe as you read this. Early last year, keyboardist Billy Powell and bassist Leon Wilkeson got to thinking about reuniting the surviving Skynyrd members to commemorate the 10th anniversary of the end of the band. Everyone agreed eventually, the last holdout being guitarist Gary Rossington, who was concerned with presenting a Lynyrd Skynyrd tribute in such a way that it wouldn’t cheapen the band. Reunions have a way of doing that—just ask the Who, who are supposedly now getting ready for their 407th farewell tour.

In some respects, a straightforward Skynyrd tribute makes sense, considering that 1987 was not only the 10th anniversary of The Plane Crash, but also the Year of the Rock ’n’ Roll Comeback Attempt in general. The old songs, obviously, are just as good as ever, and as it turns out, the musicians have improved considerably (“Ten years later is ten years better,” Billy Powell is fond of saying). It’s just that (at least to me) there didn’t seem to be much point in faithfully re-creating a band that was no longer a creative, functioning entity. But 24 of the 32 shows on the first leg of the tour sold out, so I guess that’s point enough, for both the fans and the band.

Anyway, I ruminated on the old Skynyrd platters, bought a copy (that’s right, bought) of the new Tribute Tour LP Southern By The Grace Of God, did a couple of brief phone interviews with Leon Wilkeson and caught the May 28 show down in Orlando, Florida. And now I’m trying to make sense of it all. I liked the live show much better than the live album, because onstage the band radiates a genuine love and a sense of family that doesn’t translate all that well to vinyl. No, the vitality and newness wasn’t really there, but I will now grudgingly admit that if a band is gone for good (and it’s unclear at this point whether Lynyrd Skynyrd is), then a dignified re-enactment is better than nothing—at least it is once every 10 years. What follows are some random observations...

The Tribute Tour band consists of most of the betterknown Skynyrds—guitarists Gary Rossington and Ed King, bassist Leon Wilkeson, keyboardist Billy Powell and drummer Artimus Pyle; plus Ronnie’s bro Johnny Van Zant on vocals, a couple of Muscle Shoals horn guys, back-up singers Carol Bristow and Dale Krantz-Rossington (Gary’s wife and lead singer for the Rossington Band), and guitarist Randall Hall, filling in for Allen Collins, who is paralyzed as a result of a car accident a couple years ago. Collins helped with arrangements and has been in attendance at a number of shows, including Orlando, but hasn’t been playing. In Leon Wilkeson’s words, “it just kills him. It breaks his spirit to watch us out there playing, playing his songs, and not be able to play, too.”

It would be interesting to know (I didn’t think to ask Leon) whether any of the earlier, lesser-known Skynyrd members like drummer Bob Burns, producer/organist Al Kooper or singer/drummer/guitarist Rick Medlocke (now with Blackfoot) were approached about the tour—especially Medlocke, since he actually did sing for Skynyrd (at least on “White Dove” and “The Seasons” on the First.. And Last LP) and would have been an interesting contrast to Johnny Van Zant.

The parking lot of the spanking new Orange County Civic Center was ablaze with sun, Skynyrd music, car-side beerdrinking, confederate flags and kids in Dokken T-shirts who looked too young to even remember Skynyrd’s heyday, let alone chain-smoke Marlboros—in other words, indistinguishable from the parking lot of every other rock concert held in Florida since 1965.

The Orlando show, incidentally, was dubbed “Rock Superbowl XXII,” and was originally scheduled for the 70,000-seat Citrus Bowl, with Witness (a local bar band trotting out their originals), the Georgia Satellites, Loverboy, the Rossington Band and Lynyrd Skynyrd. Loverboy backed out, no doubt to avoid being righteously pulled from the stage and beaten senseless by the audience, most of whom looked like they’d just come back from Bike Week in Daytona Beach (“I’ve never seen so many halter tops in one place,” commented my girlfriend, Kay. But at least here, no one gave her any crap about having a bat tattooed on her arm). Curiously, Loverboy’s defection was the official reason given for moving the show from the Citrus Bowl to the approximately 12,000-seat Civic Center. Didn’t realize 58,000 Central Florida folk would rather stay home than not see Loverboy, did ya?

Lacy Van Zant, father of Ronnie, Donnie (of .38 Special) and Johnny, introduced Skynyrd with all the zeal of a traveling tent preacher, exhorting the crowd to buy T-shirts, of which there were many varieties. My fave read “In memory of Ronnie Van Zant, Steve Gaines, Cassie Gaines, Dean Kilpatrick.” Dean Kilpatrick was a roadie and all-around companion to Lynyrd Skynyrd, and I bet few other bands would even consider mentioning a lowly crew member on the same ‘T’ as their late lead singer. As a part-time roadie, I can appreciate that.

The Big Skynyrd Question (Vol. 1)—Has the reformed Skynyrd band been working out any new songs, even rehearsal jams, and are there any plans to record?

“At this point, the only new material we have is in that form (rehearsal jams), but what I hope is that there proves to be enough of a demand from the fans that we’ll have to make a new album,” Wilkeson replies. “I’d like to see what we could do. Nobody’s really discussed any of that yet. Right now we’re just concentrating on the music for the Tribute Tour.”

Backstage, I met a guy who said he’d been talking to Ed King and that Ed’s conception was that the band would get together periodically for benefit shows and occasional touring, but that a serious career revival wasn’t in the plans.

Incidentally, this same guy (his name’s Wayne, he makes Skynyrd T-shirts) had a Lynyrd Skynyrd book, some thing I’d never seen before, written by “Ronnie Van Zant’s personal bodyguard,” Gene Odom. I didn’t read any of it, but it had quite a lot of candid photos and might be worth tracking down for die-hard Skynyrd fans. The fan club could probably tell you where to get it.

it cost $2.75 for a glass of Bud at the concession stand, which might help explain the constant presence of dope smoke in the air. Despite this, I did not once actually witness anyone smoking, nor did anyone try to sell me any, which was maddening as I am trying to quit smoking it but really could have used a J or two, y’know, just for authenticity’s sake.

Johnny Van Zant turned out to be a more engaging stage presence than I had expected (having seen the Johnny Van Zant Band a time or two), and he does have a voice very similar to his brother’s, although not as raw or expressive. This leads to The Big Skynyrd Question (Vol. 2)—If Lynyrd Skynyrd does start recording new material, will Johnny stay on as lead singer?

“I really don’t know, because I think Johnny’s going to go back to his own band when the Tribute Tour is over,” Wilkeson says. “He’s got his own thing going, and I don’t believe in breaking up a band to start a band. It don’t make sense. But it might be possible that we could work around him so he could sing with both bands.”

Fair enough, but Johnny would have a tremendous legacy hanging over his head, not only as a performer, but as a songwriter as well. Is he capable of taking on the job?

“Johnny Van Zant has been a godsend to this band, that’s how I feel,” Leon defends. “And if you think about it, if you were Ronnie Van Zant and passed away, who do you think you’d want to fill the shoes? If I were Ronnie I’d definitely be more settled in the grave knowing I had a brother like Johnny to carry on. I don’t know, I haven’t heard any complaints yet... He’s a Van Zant and a lot goes without saying on that aspect alone.”

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Everyone in Skynyrd looks healthier, more sober and heavier today, and they really did play much better, though sometimes a bit too polished for my ears. Ed King was particularly hot, and Introduced the anti-drug two-fer “Needle And The Spoon” and “That Smell” with a brief, slightly vague message about “listening to the lyrics” and the fact that he’d kicked a potentially fatal drug habit some years ago. Audience enthusiasm for lines like “So take another toke/Have a blow for your nose" suggested that Ed may not have gotten through.

Speaking of audience response, it was pretty impressive, with multitudes of fists and whoops going up for even the most shop-worn stage patter including jewels like—“I believe the South is gonna rise again tonight.” By the end of the show I was kinda hoping Johnny would get a little perverse and throw out something like “How many of you think America should turn communist right now, with the Lynyrd Skynyrd band in charge of everything?” just to see what’d happen.

How were the opening bands, you’re probably asking? If not, skip a paragraph ’n’ shaddup. Witness was screechy, standard-issue “hard rock” and were supposed to have a free cassette for everybody but I didn’t see any. Darn. Georgia Satellites were pretty good, and kept saying something about Gainesville, to which I yelled back, “C’mon up, sucker, our bands will kick yer collective ass!” in a fit of concert-induced regional pride. The Rossington Band was way too slick and generic for my tastes, not unlike Donnie Van Zant’s .38 Special. When Dale Krantz-Rossington announced that their next song had been co-written by Neal Schon and Jonathan Cain pf Journey, I headed for the men’s room, which was outstandingly filthy and void of any paper or soap. I was beginning to wish Loverboy had played. I’d founcj a couple of wicked-looking steel bolts lying around backstage and could’ve gotten within throwing distance without much problem.

The Tribute Tour album is too short (a 13-minute version of “Freebird” takes up one whole side) and omits some cool songs, like “I Ain’t The One,” “Saturday Night Special,” “Needle And The Spoon,” “Curtis Lowe,” “Things Goin’ On,” “Gimme Three Steps” and “Simple Man.” On the plus side, the album includes appearances by Charlie Daniels, Steve Morse, Toy Caldwell and .38 Specioids Donnie Van Zant and Jeff Carlisi. Didn’t get any guest pickers in Orlando, not even the guys from Georgia Satellites. And when I think of what Loverboy vocalist Mike Reno could’ve done with “Freebird”. . .(heavy sigh).

Speaking of “Freebird,” the audience was supposed to sing it, but since the intro was five minutes long (good, too— lotsa feedback notes from Gary) and no one onstage ever appeared to give a cue to start singing, the crowd just stood around looking at each other for the remaining 15 minutes.

The Big Skynyrd Question (Vol. 3)—If the band does return to the studio, will Allen Collins work with them, since his health isn’t such a factor there?

“Yes, Allen has said he’d be interested in working with us,” Wilkeson confirms. “He’ll play if he can, and I pray that he can, even if it’s just setting a guitar in his lap and letting him play some simple things. He might also be producing us. He’s been interested in producing and working with young bands, too; he’s been checking it out.”

Between the Rossington Band and Skynyrd, three big video screens above the stage showed some Skynyrd footage from 1975-1977, supposedly part of a Skynyrd home video available this fall, which in part will benefit the Miami Project, a research organization dedicated to fighting spinal cord injuries. The clips were great, if a little sloppy, and it sure was funny to see Ed King and Artipius Pyle back before they cut off all their hair.

Even if the reformed Lynyrd Skynyrd doesn’t go back into the studio, there’s a good chance that more old material will come to light, a la last year’s Legend LP. “There is more unreleased material and there might be another album coming out,” explains Wilkeson. “There are also a lot of songs that were never recorded because they got lost when we had changes in personnel. Some songs would get put aside and we never got back to them. It makes me sad that there are whole Lynyrd Skynyrd albums that no one will get to hear, that we couldn’t record with the original members. That’s one of the reasons I want to do a solo album. I could go back and try to work out some of those songs.”

That’s about it—the reunion hadn’t disappointed me, but it hadn’t been much of a surprise either, although I’m an oddball Skynyrd fan. I just want to see what happens next. For comparison’s sake, I asked somebody backstage why they came. “Just to get back into it, man. There ain’t nothin’ like Lynyrd Skynyrd anymore,” came the reply. Yeah, I know. That’s why I like ’em now. s