Thursday, April 9, 1987
Daily Nebraskan
Page 5
Good
days
for
Stew
Magnnsoo.
CHICAGO Robert Cray, who used to play
the blues in the Zoo Bar less than two years
ago, is now on Casey Kasem's Top-40 count
down. Albert Collins struts and picks through
David Letterman's audience and a blues jam
featuring various legendary artists performs
on the Grammys in front of millions of
viewers.
And at Chicago's Alligator Records, sales
are tripling. Their company's staff has doubled
in the last year.
Yes, the latest blues revival is on. And
Alligator Records is respondingjust as fast as
the record-buying public, which is snatching
up blues records faster than ever.
The three-story, tan house near Loyola Uni
versity is unlikely accomodations for the
world s major blues label. But inside this
small Chicago officehouse, Mindy Giles, vice
president, and Bruce Iglauer, president, an
swer a steady stream of phone calls from
record distributors, radio stations and jour
nalists. The hallway walls are lined with
Grammys and placards celebrating the big
gest names in Chicago" blues: Koko Taylor,
James Cotton, Gatemouth Brown, and Son
Seals. i
Giles has her theory on why blues music is
suddenly taking off again. The seed for this
revival was planted in the late '60s when
Albert King, B.B. King, Eric Clapton and a
long list of other musicians, whose roots were .
deep in the blues, ruled the airwaves.
"The ages of radio programmers, A & R
people and the others who help control and
shape what we listen to are now in their
mid-30s. When they were 17 and 18 years old
if::::::::
:::::-::;:::-::5;:
these were the artists that meant something
to them. Now they're saying, 'This is the
music I really like,' " Giles said.
But fans of the blues stretch far beyond the
baby-boomer, "yuppie" generation.
At a recent Johnny Winter concert, Giles
saw hordes of 15-and 16-year-old boys seriously
into Winter along with their dads, all dressed
in black T-shirts and screaming their heads
off at Winter's guitar picking.
In 1977, when the blues was anything but
hip and dinosaur rock bands and disco ruled
the airwaves, the basic Alligator release
would sell 4,000 to 5,000 copies. Now, basic
sales are 12,000 to 15,000 (cassettes, records
and CDs). Sales are doubling and tripling.
Some of Alligator's major artists are far
outselling these figures. The Grammy-nominee
"showdown" LP featuring Albert Collins,
Robert Cray and Johnny Copeland has sold
100,000 units and is still selling about 4,000
copies a month, finding new life on CDs and
with Robert Cray's recent success.
"Our LPs tend to have a longer life
because they're not worked for singles. Pro
grammers will tend to hear the whole album.
And we don't stop promoting these albums
between artists' records," Giles said.
Sales for CDs are "flying out the door," she
said. Alligator's research shows that a new
audience is buying Alligator CDs that never
bought their records or cassettes. CDs also
are giving new life to Alligator's back cata
logue, boosting sales for older releases like
the first two Johnny Winter Alligator releases
and Lonnie Mack's "Strike Like Lightening."
Alligator president, founder, talent scout
and producer, Bruce Igauler has been away in
Austin, Texas, for a week. A pile of mail is
stacked up around his desk. He answers a
steady flow of calls from all over the country,
trying to catch up on business, eat lunch from
a styrofoam cup and talk to a reporter at the
same time. His office walls are covered with
posters, signed album covers and awards
received during Alligator's 16-year history.
I want to keep
recording music with
a strong roots feel,
using the best sense
of the words "road
house music."
Iglauer
Alligator Records started in 1971 when
Iglauer fell in love with the music of slide
guitar master, Hound Dog Taylor. He spent
$2,500 dollars of inheritance money to finance
an LP.
"I never dreamed this would be a full-time
job for me, let alone anyone else," he said,
taking a spoonful of soup.
Alligator now has nine full-time employees,
two part-time employees and one college
intern. Until last year, Alligator was still run
out of Iglauer's home. Now the company has
moved to only slightly roomier conditions,
which will be made more comfortable when
the family living on the third floor leaves at
the end of the month.
Brian EarberDlver$lon
Alligator's staff and office is expanding as
a direct result of the current renewed popu
larity in blues music.
"It (the revival) is something we've iiada
hand in creating, and something we're re
sponding to. Not only does it mean we can pay
our bills, but we can take chances on new
artists."
Lil' Ed and the Blues Imperials and the
California-based little Charlie and the Night
cats are some new artists for Alligator.
"Plus, we can fulfill our regular artist's
dreams, like bringing in the Memphis horns
and (drummer) Jim Keltner on Lonnie Mack's
last album."
Iglauer owes part of Alligator's success to
constant touring by its artists. That, com
bined with Iglauer's production techniques,
which preserve a live feeling even in the
studio, creates excitement even when albums
don't get airplay, he said.
Iglauer wants to keep doing what Alligator
has done best over the last 16 years.
"I want to keep recording music with a
strong roots feel, using the best sense of the
words 'roadhouse music,' something structu
rally simple that packs an emotional punch,"
he said. "And it has to be easy to dance to,
because I'm a lousy dancer."
" 'Genuine' is a very important word
around here," Giles said. ". . . Like Willie
Dixon says, blues is the universal language.
Everytime 1 step into a Chicago blues club I
see people dressed for Las Vegas, college
students, conventioneers, poor white people
and poor black people. The blues is the great
equalizer. Everybody there has a great time."