On Getting Cut And Backing Down

For you jam fans, an interesting, illuminating old article from Musician magazine on what happens when you put the guitarists' guitarist Albert Lee on stage with consummate musician Steve Morse of the Dixie Dregs, and one famous shredder:

Eddie has balls of brass for getting into what's basically an Albert Lee set of demanding hoedowns. Most of the time he rises to it, but he simply doesn't have the right hand to keep up with these cats. What he can't tackle with melody he pounds out by hitting his whammy bar in time to the song, sticking to Hendrix themes and screams. Morse plays the life out of a slow one, squeezing some liquid lines that sound like a pedal-steel, and by the time the the baton gets to Ed he knows his number's up–he's got a lot of assets, but being a sensitive balladeer isn't among them. When it's obvious he can't cut it in the few moments, Ed resorts to the "elephant," a novel way of making a guitar groan by hitting three dissonant notes and swelling up the volume. The crowd responds accordingly. But when everyone starts trading fours on a high-velocity country blues, Ed begs off and watches aghast as Albert and Steve burn chorus after chorus, Steve flailing arpeggios, Albert just simply, unbelievably Albert. The country boys really stick it to the city slicker this time; Ed's got the wind knocked out of him. He throws his head back and blows his cheeks out in disbelief.

It's a fun read, and a little reminder of Duane Allman's treatment of encomiums thrown his way: there are nobodies sitting out on their porches playing better than anyone.
He'd really have loved throwing it down with Lee and Morse. Good things happened when he got in there and pushed people to play better.