“Classic Rock Crate Digger” is a column I write for the Rhapsody Blog.

The Crate Digger never passes up a chance to ruminate on the music loves of his youth. Seventeen-year-old me, as I’ve written before, maintained torrid affairs with both grunge and the British Invasion. But I’d be denying history if I didn’t admit to a brief tryst with the neo-hippie jam-band scene as well. Not very sexy, I know. But the first H.O.R.D.E. (Horizons of Rock Developing Everywhere) tour, which I caught at the New York State Fairgrounds’ Miller Court in the summer of 1992, was one of the great concert experiences of my high school years. It was wild, I tell you. Noodling jams went from early afternoon to the dead of night, while “hordes” of young, hairy freakers and their cute granola mamas hawked fanny packs, vegan enchiladas, homemade candles, hardcore psychedelics and exotic textiles in the parking lot.

H.O.R.D.E. went down before the Spin Doctors, Blues Traveler and Phish went platinum, and in the process, transformed the neo-hippie scene into a pop-culture commodity (one that somehow morphed into Dave Matthews and John Mayer years later — go figure). It still possessed, believe it or not, a kind of regional flavor. Most of the bands called New England or the Mid-Atlantic states home. The crowd, for the most part, consisted of earthy college brats from the SUNY system or straight-up beardo dropouts from Vermont, western Massachusetts’ Berkshires, the Catskills/Woodstock, the Adirondacks or, of course, the global hub for white dudes who dig dashikis: Ithaca, N.Y.

By the time I entered college in the fall of ’93, little over a year after that wondrous if rather hazy day, the jam-band scene was a skeleton stuffed in the closet behind that pair of Zubaz I wore when I was 14. At some point in the intervening 12 months, probably not long after I bought my first Superchunk record, I woke up and realized extended funk-rock and quirky pop full of slap bass and reggae “riddims” wasn’t for me. In fact, I violently rejected the entire scene.

There was but a single exception, however: Widespread Panic.

Now mind you, the Crate Digger is no “Panic Head,” not by any stretch of the imagination. The last album I totally fell for was 1994′s Ain’t Life Grand. Likewise, I’ve seen the group perform just three times, the last coming in 1994 (the State Theatre in Kalamazoo, Mich. — awesome show). Despite the fact that I’ve been a casual observer for a long time now, I have immense respect for The Panic. They’re a really good group, one with a profound understanding of classic-rock history. Unfortunately, they’ve been totally ill-served by the “jam band” tag. Because they’ve shared so many stages with Phish, Blues Traveler and the Spin Doctors, a lot of their armchair detractors automatically presume they specialize in the kind of Top 40 funk-rock shenanigans I mentioned up above.* But that’s not at all accurate. Widespread Panic were, and are, the only first-generation neo-hippie act to actually carry on the traditions of The Grateful Dead and The Allman Brothers Band.

I know a lot of folks out there have long believed The Dead and The Allmans are the forefathers of — in addition to The Panic — Phish, Blues Traveler and the Spin Doctors. And that might be true in how each one cultivated a loyal following of hippies who travel from concert to concert. But sonically speaking, it’s a narrative that just doesn’t hold up. Phish are like a cross between They Might Be Giants, Frank Zappa and Joe Satriani. The Spin Doctors were a boogie party band for frat hippies who also owned Bob Marley’s Legend. As for Blues Traveler, to this day I have no idea what the hell they were making, but it certainly wasn’t the blues.

Widespread Panic, in radical contrast, actually filter country rock, blues and roots rock through extended free improvisation based in jazz. Now, they’re not as overtly psychedelic as The Dead or the early Allman Brothers, but The Panic are far closer to them than they are the groups they are forever lumped in with.

If you’ve never dared spin a Widespread Panic album, yet you’re a huge fan of early 1970s rural rock, then do yourself a favor and check out the records below.

Space Wrangler (1988)
Despite the dated 1980s production, The Panic’s debut album is still my favorite. With the exception of “Coconut” and “Porch Song,” the bulk of Space Wrangler is a moody blend of Southern twang, churning grooves and thick organ vibes fed through Leslie speakers. The cover of JJ Cale’s “Travelin’ Light” is killer, but the album peaks with “Me and the Devil Blues/Heaven.” The fusion of Robert Johnson and the Talking Heads is downright transcendent. That said, songwriting is what ultimately separates Widespread Panic from their H.O.R.D.E. pals. Space Wrangler is just a great set of rootsy Americana. If I had access to a time machine, I’d go back to 1992 and head straight to The Panic’s hometown: Athens, Ga. I’d sit the group down and tell them to ditch the H.O.R.D.E. tour and instead, organize their own festival with Uncle Tupelo, The Jayhawks and The Black Crowes. It’s these groups the band should’ve been hanging out with back in the day.

Light Fuse Get Away (1998)
Light Fuse Get Away, from 1998, was the first official document of Widespread Panic’s marathon live sets, which had already been a staple of tape-trading circles for years. These guys can totally rock in the live setting. Plus, they do what The Dead and The Allmans did and stretch out, instrumentally. I kind of think the band’s rhythm section is underrated. It produces seriously powerful propulsion that’s specifically designed for the long haul. Another fun thing about Light Fuse Get Away is the audience. Panic-heads may be a little zealous, but they don’t mess around. They party hard.

Ball (2003)
This is The Panic’s first release after the death of Michael Houser, who played guitar and wrote many of the band’s best solo albums. Most fans assumed the group was going to fold after the death of such a pivotal member. But they soldiered on. Not only that, they released their best studio album since Til the Medicine Takes, possibly Everyday. Believe it or not, I heard this album for the first time in 2007. “Papa Johnny Road” is one of the group’s best, easily. That said, I don’t like the record quite as much as the band’s early releases. However, the production and guitar tones slay those found on the mighty Space Wrangler.

Brute., Nine High a Pallet (1995)
Releasing two albums and playing a smattering of concerts between 1995 and 2002, Brute. are an overlooked side project. I know more than a few Panic-heads who don’t even know of their existence. The idea of fellow Athenian and alternative-folkie Vic Chesnutt (R.I.P.) fronting what is more or less Widespread Panic sounds like a bizarre one. Yet Nine High a Pallet is a pretty amazing album, kind of like The Basement Tapes of the Athens music scene. Adopting a more minimalist approach, the group expertly provides subtle sonic color to Chesnutt’s stripped-down tunes. Of course, what you have to remember is this: several members of Widespread Panic grew up playing not Southern jam-boogie, but R.E.M.-inspired alternative rock. These guys are way more versatile than most people think.

Widespread Panic (1991)
While Space Wrangler is all about country-meets-cosmos, its follow-up, Widespread Panic (aka Mom’s Kitchen), is tough like rawhide. As I said earlier, the band’s debut is my personal fave, but this is probably its most fully realized studio album. It came out on Capricorn Records, which makes total sense, considering the legendary label helped invent Southern rock back in the early 1970s. John Bell is a fantastic growler in the mold of Gregg Allman. Normally I wouldn’t recommend a ballad for the “gateway track,” but “Mercy” is really kind of undeniable.

For those who want to dive deeper, here are a few more choice live sets:
Night of Joy (2004)
Live in the Classic City (2002)
Live from the Backyard in Austin, TX (2003)

Notes:
*The Panic’s close association with the H.O.R.D.E. scene has always been more of a northern perception. In the South, most fans think of them as a straight-ahead Southern rock group, not far removed from Gov’t Mule or even the Drive-By Truckers.