This is the archetype. Before it, Southern rock as a separate genre was an amorphous curiosity. After it, redneck hippies with chops were entitled to all the worship that had previously been thrown at Brit hippies with chops. And what chops the Allmans laid on an unsuspecting world in 1971. Although the electric guitar has gone in many exotic directions since, the contrast between Duane Allman quavering on slide and Dickey Betts burning in standard tuning can still drop the jaw of anyone with a non-arthritic “wow” reflex and the time to listen. And time is a problem here. We need to start lobbying Congress for a four-hour workday and longer vacations, just to appreciate the mountainous jam that is “Mountain Jam” (33:39). A cool and fitting moment worth waiting for in the almost-as-mountainous jam “You Don’t Love Me”: Duane quotes “Joy to the World” in the denouement. Joy indeed.