“The South,” as it is most commonly understood, must from time to time be “forgotten” in order to remain the mythic fairy tale it’s perceived as. Whenever it is “rediscovered,” it must always be the first time, so it’s no surprise that amid all the talk of a newly resurrected southern aesthetic in popular music, the one band that has never gone away is almost completely ignored. Widespread Panic was, in fact, the one band that disappeared in the midst of this southern revival. Not to be completely forgotten, however, the Athens, GA sextet released several live albums during its hiatus, and the most recent, Live at Myrtle Beach comes the closest of them all to capturing the live Panic experience.
Widespread Panic shows are always a party, and the two-disc set’s fitting party-anthem opener, “Ain’t Life Grand,” shows just how profound newcomer George McConnell’s influence on the band has been. His flashy, hard rock pyrotechnics on “Henry Parsons Died” and the closing Panic classic, “Chilly Water” are a far cry from the dearly departed Michael Houser’s smooth, fluid runs up and down the strings, and the band sounds more like a true rock and roll outfit than it ever has.
The set’s generous helping of exploration assures that the Athens, GA boys still haven’t lost touch with their Grateful roots, though. The drab balladry of “Don’t Wanna Lose You” gets a jumpstart from keyboardist JoJo Hermann’s solo turn, before guest guitarist John Keane chases McConnell around the melody’s spiral stair, then falls into a disco hole. “Dirty Business” features a Fillmore-era Dead jam complete with a (very) brief “Sugar Magnolia” tease and a spacey exit into the Stones’ “Stop Breakin’ Down Blues.”
All this jamming would be pointless, though, without the solid
songwriting of the rare “Postcard,” whose joyous House of Blues welcome quickly builds to a
raucous finish, and the fireside warmth of “Papa’s Home,” which glows more brightly when fueled by John Bell’s heartfelt live vocals.
Live at Myrtle Beach offers plenty of the same warm, familiar Southern comfort that keeps Widespread Panic’s fans coming back home, even when the rest of the world has forgotten their home ever existed at all.
