Dear Friends,
As all of you know by now, the blues world lost a great musician just a few weeks ago when Albert Collins died at the age of 61. For me, it’s not just the loss of an astounding and irreplaceable musician, but also of a very dear old friend.
Albert recorded for Alligator from 1978 until 1987, and during those years I acted as his personal manager. Along with Dick Shurman (who did me an incredible service by bringing Albert to Alligator), we produced seven albums, which between them represent many of the recorded high points of Albert’s career. I watched Albert grow as an artist, moving from being not only one of the most exciting and original guitarists in the blues to also becoming a marvelous,, wry singer and storyteller and brilliant bandleader. I watched the growth of the Icebreakers (a band put together for Albert’s first Alligator album that evolved into his touring unit) into one of the tightest blues bands in the world. As manager, I went on the road with Albert often, traveling all over the U.S. and to Europe, Japan and Australia.
On the bandstand, Albert was never less than exciting and usually among the most thrilling bluesmen you could ever imagine. His sound, his attack, his creativity, his interplay with the Icebreakers, his energy, his soulfulness — all these were unmatched. As a blues musician, he was a giant.
Off the bandstand, Albert was always one of the sweetest and humblest of men. He constantly seemed surprised and really pleased by compliments, and he almost never had a harsh word for anyone. He may have sung about ego trips, but I never saw him on one. He was both a gentleman and a gentle man.
I’m immensely proud of the part that I played in helping Albert shape his music and his career and my role as a “bridge” in bringing him to a larger public. His success and the attribution given him over the last few years were richly deserved. I’m even prouder of the fact that this good man chose to call me his friend.
When Albert learned he was sick, he chose to treat his illness like he treated other aspects of his personal life—by dealing with it privately rather than bringing it to the world’s attention. He didn’t ask for sympathy and, like always, he didn’t want to bother anyone with his troubles. He continued to play as long as he was able, into September. Even at the end he was looking forward to doing more of what he did so well-making music on the road.
Albert’s funeral in Las Vegas was a little perfunctory, even though it was filled with the celebrities of the blues world. But afterwards many of us got together for a jam that was much more of a true memorial. Like Albert’s life, it was a celebration of the strength and emotional power of the blues. Like Albert, it cut clean to your soul like a razor blade.
Sincerely,
Bruce Iglauer
PS – I want to say a public and very special thanks to Albert’s manager, John Boncimino, who loved Albert every bit as deeply as I and stood with him through every moment of the last very difficult months, supporting Albert with constant love and attention.