seattle 1975-1977

The Isaac Scott Band: Twist Turner (drums), Isaac Scott, me, and Mark Dalton (bass)

When I moved back to Seattle after five years in New York City, I didn’t know any blues musicians in my home town so I put an ad in the Seattle Times offering my services as a harp player. I got a call from a drummer named Twist Turner, who was playing in a band led by a guy named Isaac Scott. Twist had me sit in and I ended up playing with Isaac's band for the next couple of years. Isaac was in many ways the most gifted musician I have ever worked with. Isaac didn't like to travel, but he could have had a substantial international career given the absolutely unique blend of his gorgeous gospel voice and his incendiary guitar style inspired by his mentor, Albert Collins. In fact, the British label Red Lightnin’ took a gig tape that Twist Turner sent them and released it as an album. Isaac was also a fine Hammond B3 player.

Mark Dalton, me, and Tom McFarland

There were only a couple of clubs in Seattle in the mid-'70s that would hire blues bands—Pig Alley in the Pike Place Market and the Boulder Lounge around the corner on First Avenue. The Seattle waterfront was still raw and rough in those days. The Pig was frequented  by the sizeable population of local derelicts, Navy guys on shore leave, aging beatniks, and younger hipsters. The Boulder was a larger and much more sophisticated establishment—it boasted red and black naugahyde booths and featured go-go dancers working in cages. Isaac had the house gig at the Pig and Tom McFarland led the regular band at the Boulder. Tom was a great singer and guitarist from Oregon, and a really talented songwriter. Tom recorded a very fine album for Arhoolie Records, "Travelin' With The Blues," before leaving us much too soon. 

I don’t think Isaac had gigged that much as a front man before he put our band together, and he became a strong performer during our long run at Pig Alley. Isaac had a 60-foot guitar cord and used to like to roam through the club, getting up close and personal with the funky crowd. One of my favorite memories of Isaac was of a night at the Pig when he walked over to the telephone booth at the end of the bar (remember telephone booths?) while he was playing, popped the folding door open with his elbow, slowly squeezed his 300-pound frame into the booth (still playing, holding his guitar straight up), and then shut the door with his foot. A light went on above his head and Isaac played for about forty minutes inside that phone booth.

I was playing at Pig Alley in Seattle one night with Isaac Scott in 1975. During a tune, I noticed three well-dressed guys come through the door. It was highly unusual to see such well-heeled types at the Pig. During the break one of them came up to me and introduced himself. He pointed to one of his party, a guy with a pony tail about my age and said "I'm here with Kim Wilson, the world's finest harmonica player. He's just recorded a new record on our Ada label and he's in town for a big blues show at Sick's Stadium tomorrow. Would it be possible for him to sit in with you guys for a tune or two and plug the show?" I admit it—I was dubious that the world's greatest harmonica player had just wafted into this dive bar, but if he wanted to kill a half an hour while I took a break, well, I was up for that. "Sure," I said. Kim got up when Isaac and the band came back on stage, did a couple of very high-energy numbers, thanked me, and disappeared into the night with his handlers. The next day I caught Kim again, this time with his band from Minneapolis, Aces Straights and Shuffles, at the Sick's Stadium Festival. They sounded really strong, and they held their own against world-class acts like Howlin' Wolf, John Lee Hooker, and Albert Collins.

Albert Collins

The Isaac Scott band did several gigs with the amazing Albert Collins. I’ve never been a big fan of loud electric guitar, but even though Albert played as loud as anybody I loved to listen to him. He could really sting that thing. Albert was living in the Bay Area in the ‘70s, and he came to the Northwest regularly. Albert was Isaac’s main inspiration on guitar (Isaac listened a lot to a lot of Freddie King and Jimi Hendrix, too), and the two of them were pretty tight, although they had their moments. I remember Albert pulling a knife on Isaac in the back room of a Seattle club after some kind of argument, but that was more of a statement than a real threat. Isaac once told me about a night when he and Albert were headed to Albert’s Cadillac at 2 a.m. after a gig and they noticed that a couple of guys were following them. Albert told Isaac to just be cool, that he would take care of it. When they reached the car, Albert popped the trunk as if to put his guitar in there, and the two guys made their move. Albert wheeled around with a tire iron, and the would-be muggers took off.

Isaac had his big-city moments, too. One night at rehearsal Isaac let us know that we had gotten booked for a Tuesday-night gig at the bar at the Moore Hotel in downtown Seattle for $400. That was big money in those days, at least for us, and to say that the rest of us were skeptical would be an understatement. Isaac said that these hippie promoters were starting to book music in that bar and that he figured he’d take some early money from them before they went broke.

We played the gig for the two barmaids and about six other people. The hippie promoters were nowhere to be seen. Just as we were launching into our last tune, at 12:45, they walked in. After we finished, they went up to Isaac and asked if they could speak with him outside. They seemed agitated. We each took a stool at the bar and watched through the big plate-glass windows as the promoters talked to Isaac out on the sidewalk. You’d see one of the guys talking to Isaac and Isaac looking at him. Then the other guy would start talking and Isaac would turn and stare at him. This went on for about two minutes and Isaac got a very dark look on his face and started shaking his head. We braced ourselves, on alert. Suddenly Isaac punched one of the guys and dropped him to the pavement. The other promoter wheeled around and started running up Second Avenue. Isaac took off after him, and we all spilled out on the club to watch the slaughter. Isaac was a huge guy, but in those days he was still under 30 and could incredibly fast over short distances. It was like watching one of those grim episodes of “Wild Kingdom” where the cheetah has separated a weak wildebeest from the herd and pitilessly runs it down. Isaac overtook the guy within a block and made short work of him.

The promoters had been appropriately punished, but we still hadn’t been paid. Isaac went over to the band van, pulled out a hand truck and wheeled it into the bar. They had just installed a fancy new jukebox, and Isaac proceeded to unplug it, load it onto the hand truck, and started rolling it down the aisle. Somebody at the bar intervened and gave us our money before Isaac absconded with their jukebox.

Now that’s a band leader!

DeFord Bailey and me in his apartment in Nashville

After working with Isaac for a couple of years, I pulled up stakes, left Seattle, and traveled around the country looking for a new scene. I made my first visit to Chicago, where I got a memorable tour of the blues clubs from Twist Turner and Dave Waldman. I checked in with friends in Boston, which still had a thriving blues scene. I headed south to check out Nashville and Memphis. In Nashville I managed to find and spend an unbelievable afternoon with DeFord Bailey, a true genius of the harmonica and one of the first stars of country music. The photo above shows DeFord and me in his apartment. (See the Harmonicas, Harps, and Heavy Breathers section of this site for my profile of DeFord and my description of my encounter with him from that book.)