Skynyrd revives believers in Bangor > Fans, band sing from same hymnbook

It wasn’t a concert held Friday night at the Bangor Auditorium. It was a tent meeting.

By the thousands the faithful came, packing the steamy temple ’til it could hold no more. They had come to hear the gospel according to Lynyrd Skynyrd.

To the strains of “The Magnificent Seven,” the standard-bearers for Southern rock strode onto the stage. From the opening strains of “These Hands,” the communion between these ministers and the congregation was complete.

“Saturday Night Special.” “What’s Your Name.” “That Smell.” “Give Me Three Steps.” The people didn’t need a hymnal. They knew the words by heart, engrained over the past quarter-century.

They swayed back and forth in apostolic fervor, their hands swinging overhead or clapping in unison. Many stood on pews or sat on shoulders to get a better view of the messengers.

Worship is often a family affair, and so it was here this night. Parents, their children and their children’s children stood shoulder to sticky shoulder, from the beginning of the service to the end.

As in any form of religion, talismans were present, most prominent being the Confederate flag. No incense was burned, but a ton of tobacco (and possibly a joint or two) certainly were. Candles weren’t employed, but a modern equivalent, the lighter, was frequently used in tribute.

Leading the worship was Johnny Van Zant. With his foot on a speaker and a mike stand in one hand, he simply, straightforwardly, delivered the message which the believers had come to hear.

He was ably supported by a trinity of thundering guitarists, the expressive Hughie Thomasson and the more stoic pair of Rickey Medlocke and Gary Rossington. Also lending able assistance were bassist Leon Wilkeson (he of the many hats), keyboardist Billy Powell and drummer Jeff McAllister.

The faithful loved to hear the old, old stories, the timeless songs which are Skynyrd. And the septet delivered in style, filling the masses with the spirit.

After “Sweet Home Alabama,” the seven departed the stage, possibly to meditate on the evening’s rapture. After what was seemingly an eternity, they returned, garbed in new vestments. They launched into the anthem “Free Bird,” which drove the crowd into renewed frenzy. Partway through, there descended from the heavens … a mirror ball (you can only carry an analogy so far. Then it goes right to hell).

As the last notes of “Free Bird” ended, the lights came up, and the blessed, sweaty believers milled out, incongruously to the theme song to “The Andy Griffith Show.” A bizarre tribute to another Southern icon.