seattle 1978-1990

Me, Greg Keplinger, Big Mama Thornton, John Seberg, Al Kaatz, Jay Thomas

Back in Seattle, I started working with various bands. I also had the chance to back up many blues greats during their visits to Seattle, including Albert Collins, Muddy Waters, Hubert Sumlin, Eddie Taylor, and Little Joe Blue. I was lucky enough to do a weekend with the legendary Big Mama Thornton. I got to the gig that night and the promoter who had hired me for the show pulled me aside to tell me nervously that she had just found out that Big Mama had a clause in her boilerplate contract stipulating that there was to be no harmonica player in the backup band. She introduced me to Big Mama and I told her that of course it was her call, but that I knew what I was doing and was familiar with her material and wouldn't get in her way. She said "Fine," and a little later the show started. I don't think she even looked at me during the first set, but after intermission she began to give me some nice solo spots. Then I found out why she didn't want harp players in the band. Unbeknownst to me, Big Mama was a fine harmonica player in her own right, and in the second half of the show she pulled out a Marine Band. We ended up playing harp duets on "Watermelon Man" and "The Work Song." What a night!

In the early ’80s I lived around the corner from the Rainbow Tavern in Seattle’s University District. The Rainbow was the best music venue in Seattle for quite a few years, and I saw some of the best shows I’ve ever seen in that small club—a marathon, non-stop, four-hour set from Clifton Chenier and his Louisiana Band stand out in my memory. I played for a year or two with Brian Butler, a really talented singer and guitar player. One night Brian and I strolled over to the Rainbow to catch Walter Horton. Walter was in rare form that night, blowing up a storm, and his band with Rick Molina on bass, Left Hand Frank on guitar, and Ted Harvey on drums were really putting it out there. At the end of his last song the club owner jumped on stage, had a quick conversation with Walter, and then announced to the cheering crowd that he had just booked Walter to play again the following night. That sounded fantastic until Brian and I realized that we were supposed to play there the next night. So we huddled with the owner, too, and worked out a deal where for the same money we had been promised we would alternate sets with Walter and his band.

I thought a lot that day about sharing the stage with Walter, but by the time I got to the Rainbow I was feeling no pressure and was just determined to do a good show and every second of the thrill of doing a gig with the best harmonica player on the planet. We jumped up and did a solid opening set, Walter and his guys got up and killed it, and we did another short set. I had some friends in the audience that night who had saved me a prime seat, and now it was time to have a couple of well-earned drinks and watch Walter do his magic.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Rick Molina. “Walter wants you to play this set with us,” he was telling me. I turned around and Walter was standing across the room, beckoning me with a crooked finger. I floated over to him in shock. “You get on stage with the band and play through the amp. I’ll put a mic down on the floor and work that.” I grabbed my harps and microphone, took a place on stage between Left Hand Frank and Ted Harvey, and plugged in. Walter put a stand with a vocal mic a couple of feet below us on the dance floor and kicked us off. For the whole set I played fills around his vocals and he and Frank took all the solos. I could have cared less. I just stared down at the back of Walter’s head. listened to his amazing harmonica sound, and did the best I could, which must have been okay because he let me stay up there.

Afterwards I thanked Walter and he and the guys took off in the little van they were traveling in. I went home and bounced off the walls for a while and then walked the streets until dawn, too wound up up to sleep. Sharing licks with Walter Horton that night still ranks as my all-time favorite musical experience.

The Slamhound Hunters opening for Stevie Ray Vaughan at the Seattle Center Coliseum: Louis X. Erlanger, Mark Dalton, me, and Leslie Milton

Louis X. Erlanger and I had played together in our college band, The Sting Rays. After I left New York City to return to Seattle, the Rays played a gig at a new club called CBGB in the East Village. Mink DeVille was a group that played the club, and Louis was recruited by front man Willie DeVille to take over the guitar seat in that band. Louis toured constantly with them for the next five years and played on the Mink's first three albums, which are all classics.

After Louis and Mink DeVille parted company, he and I talked about working together again. The concept, basically, was to form a band to play new original material that wasn't strictly blues but that was obviously rooted in that style. Louis moved out to Seattle and we started working on material and auditioning rhythm sections. We worked with a string of bass players and drummers in the first year. Louis was writing some pretty innovative tunes that proved challenging to drummers used to shuffles and slow blues numbers. We finally met up with Leslie Milton, who was working with a Seattle group called Blue Lights featuring John Tanner on harmonica and Barrelhouse Chuck on piano. Leslie had grown up in New Orleans learning from drummers like Earl Palmer. Leslie was a real pro who didn't have an attitude about styles--to him, it was all music, and his job was to make the groove as killer as possible. When Leslie and Mark Dalton, a great bass player who I had worked with in Isaac Scott's band, joined the Slamhounds, we finally had the right lineup to pursue the sound that we had in mind.

We were all good players. Leslie had a lot of charisma and showmanship and devised a "Star Drums" showcase that we used on live shows that never failed to amaze audiences. Louis and I both contributed original material to the band, but Louis did the lion's share of the writing and it was his tunes and vision that really made the band unique. 

The band caught the attention of Dave Corning and John Iverson, two Seattle record producers, and the Slamhounds recorded two albums for their Satin label, 4/1 Mind and Private Jungle. We started playing bigger shows. We opened for Stevie Ray Vaughan and Robert Cray in the Seattle Center Coliseum as part of Seattle's huge Bumbershoot music festival, did shows with Greg Allman, Delbert McClinton and the Righteous Brothers, and played a showcase at Tramps in New York City. We had a regional FM radio hit with our version of "Cadillac Walk" and Elektra/Asylum sent an A&R rep up to Seattle to record a demo with us. Our last hurrah as a band was a tour of Europe following the release of Private Jungle was released by the French label Sky Ranch.

Digital downloads of all the Slamhound Hunters’ recordings are available through the usual outlets, including CDBaby, iTunes, and Spotify.

Some Slamhound Hunters music and photos:

The Slamhound Hunters with blues legend Otis Rush: Mark Dalton, Kim Field, Otis Rush, Leslie Milton, Dick Powell, Louis X. Erlanger (foreground)

Photo shoot for the "Private Jungle" CD: John Crossman Sr. (the original slamhound hunter), me, Mark Dalton, and Leslie Milton (photo by Frank Winterer)

The Slamhound Hunters on tour in Europe: Mark Dalton, Louis X. Erlanger, Leslie Milton, and me

The Slamhound Hunters: Louis X. Erlanger, me, Mark Dalton, and Leslie Milton

"4/1 Mind," the Slamhound Hunters' first LP, our CD "Private Jungle," and our EP "Cadillac Walk”

The Slamhound Hunters in the studio: Leslie Milton and Mark Dalton, back; Louis X, Erlanger and Kim Field, front

The Slamhound Hunters at Seattle's Bumbershoot Festival: (left to right) Mark Dalton, Leslie Milton, me, Louis X. Erlanger