Dear Friends,

It looks like a good year coming up for new Alligator releases. I just returned from Los Angeles where I was helping Little Charlie and the Nightcats with mixes for their upcoming album, tentatively titled That’s Big. It’s another heaping helping of their patented rambunctious lyrics, jumping West Coast grooves, and top notch harp and guitar. This will be the 8th Little Charlie album, and they just keep getting better. It’s no wonder that this quartet from Sacramento has become one of our best-loved bands. You can expect the new album in March.

But before that, in January, look for new Deluxe Editions from Koko Taylor and Son Seals. Both albums are crammed full of some of the best material from their almost 30 years on Alligator (including previously unreleased tracks from both), lovingly remastered under my direct supervision, packaged with rare photos and a mini-poster. If you haven’t collected all our releases by these seminal Chicago artists, or if you want to share their music with a friend, this is the perfect way to start.

I was telling you last time about the trials and tribulations of recording Lonnie Mack’s Strike Like Lightning album, produced by Stevie Ray Vaughan, back in 1985. After an almost totally frustrating first day of non-recording, we headed into the studio on the second day to cut two songs with the engineer, Gene Lawson, on drums. Gene had been Lonnie’s drummer in the ‘60s, and there were a couple of tunes that Lonnie thought would perfectly fit his style, Long Way From Memphis and Strike Like Lightning. The grooves and vibes finally began to come together, lubricated by a lot of beer and foodstuffs that Lonnie’s wife Carol brought in. The energy level was kept high by Stevie’s well-known propensity for stay-awake substances (mixed with Crown Royal) and everyone’s desire to catch up after losing almost all the first day. Of course, it would have been easier if Stevie’s gigantic dog hadn’t been wandering around knocking over microphones!

But once Lonnie and Stevie got focused, the music flowed fast and furious, even with all the studio problems. Tim Drummond’s song Hound Dog Man was cut with Stevie on wah wah rhythm and Lonnie on lead. It was clear from Lonnie’s solo (which most fans thought was Stevie’s) just how much Mr. Vaughan had learned from Mr. Mack. And the resemblances in their sounds were made abundantly clear on the duet, Double Whammy, that had them trading solos at supersonic speed. When it came time for the acoustic Oreo Cookie Blues, Stevie produced a National steel guitar that he swore had been owned by Blind Boy Fuller! (Question—how many people who think that Stevie invented the blues have ever heard of Blind Boy Fuller?)

But there were more distractions, like the rattlesnake that was killed just outside the studio door. Lonnie took the snake back home to skin it and make a hatband, but it was a long time before the dead snake stopped writhing around, even in the refrigerator. I still have photos of Lonnie skinning the snake outside his cabin.

And then there was the engineer problem. Gene Lawson had decided to live at the studio rather than stay with us in the trailers at the fishing camp outside of Austin. He continued to bicker with the studio owner about various technical matters, until finally the studio owner just handed us the keys and said that Gene should solve whatever problems he had himself. On the third day we arrived at the studio to find that Gene had returned home to Nashville, leaving us with the assistant engineer, Steve Mendel, to finish the album. Steve was well intentioned but unable to fix the headphone talkback system, leaving me to run in from the control room every time we needed to tell the musicians anything! Frankly, it was amazing that the music managed to get on tape at all. But somehow, pure willpower and the love between the musicians overcame all the obstacles.

More next time.

Bruce Iglauer