All language subtitles for Rise Of A Texas Bluesman Stevie Ray Vaughan 1954-1983

In the early
1970s, in Austin Texas,

a young guitarist
began to make his name

on the local blues circuit.

Tirelessly committed
to a musical form

many thought outdated.

Ten years later,
that same guitarist

became an
international phenomon.

A player of passion, energy,

and awe-inspiring
technical virtuosity,

Stevie Ray Vaughan
not only brought

the blues heritage
of his home state

to a global audience,

but also reinvigorated
the genre itself,

and introduced it to a new
generation of listeners.

Stevie just seemed
to live and breathe music

every single minute.

It was just his whole life.

This was a burning fire

that didn't have anything to
do with what people thought.

You've witnessed some
of his live gigs,

where you would
think, "You know,"

"he's gonna just break the
guitar in half with his hands".

It's genuine, it was sweet.

It's not the kind of
intensity you think,

"Oh, why does he have to
act like that, you know?"

Only he could come up
with that type of emotion

without it being an act.

This
film not only looks

at the formative years
of Vaughan's career,

his influences, his
first recordings,

and the various bands in
which he honed his craft.

But also traces the history
of Texas blues itself

and identifies Vaughn's place
within a larger tradition.

It is the journey

of both a musical form and
the single-minded musician

who brought it back
into the spotlight.

His guitar playing just
jumps right off the record.

It just grabs a hold of you

and it's just undeniable.

What he did with the
sound was totally unique

and nobody has come close.

Stevie just did it because
he had his own ideas

and he was committed
to his music.

If he'd end up just playing
clubs all the rest of his life

rather than sacrificing
who he was musically,

he probably would have chosen

playing clubs the
rest of his life.

He knew what he wanted to do.

Stevie brought
respect back to blues.

He brought recognition
back to blues.

But by making it

a completely unique, original,
and modern sound again.

This guy was really
a master artist.

When
Stevie Ray Vaughan

broke into the mainstream
in the early 1980s,

he cut a distinctive and
contradictory figure,

seemingly archaic
and out-of-date,

yet also explosive and
refreshingly different.

He was a standard bearer
for a form of music

that had been dismissed

as unfashionable
and unmarketable

for over a decade,

the blues.

And his global success
revitalized the genre.

Blues has always
had ups and downs,

but it had been down
for a long, long time.

Record deals were very
few and far between.

Just being taken seriously
was not, not happening.

For Stevie to make such an
impact worldwide changed that.

All of a sudden, people were
starting to pay attention

and it really helped
everyone from the ground up.

Nobody else is making
this music by this stage.

Or, nobody is making
it and selling it

in any sizable quantities.

He refreshes the blues.

He makes the blues hip again.

So here's the significance,

both in terms of its influence
on white rock and roll,

but also in what it
does to black music.

Johnny Hooker in the
1980s and early 1990s

sells more records
in that decade

than he sold in 40 years
up until that point.

Stevie Ray Vaughan

has one hell of a
lot to do with that.

Stevie Ray Vaughan
almost single-handedly

there are other people,
there's George Thorogood,

there's Robert Cray,

but Stevie Ray Vaughan
is the superstar.

He's the man who puts
blues back on the map

and makes people want to
listen to the blues again

and realize that there's
something worth hearing.

Vaughan
wasn't only creating

a resurgence of
interest in the blues,

but in particular, he and
his band, Double Trouble,

presented a distinctive,
region-specific strand

of this genre.

Born from a rich
tradition of music

eminating from the
American territory

in which they were
raised, Texas.

This large state, briefly a
republic in its own right,

had a singular history that
would itself become etched

into the music that
emerged from it.

Propelled by a philosophy
of rugged individualism,

at first it was the home
of ranchers and cowboys,

the icons of the
American frontier.

Yet where these inhabitants
looked to cultivate the land,

Texas would soon become
forever associated

with the riches
found under its soil

at the dawn of the
20th Century, oil.

This discovery changed the state

from a vast,
yet sparsely-populated rural province,

into one of the largest
economies in the country.

Yet the musical tradiiton

that inspired Stevie Ray Vaughan

and countless other white Texans

sprung from the laborers

of one of its other
key industries

in the early 20th Century.

In the cotton fields
of east Texas,

and in the poor black
communities set up around them,

the sharecroppers
developed the blues.

It was from this marginal world,

that the first notable
Texas bluesman emerged,

Blind Lemon Jefferson.

Blind Lemon Jefferson

is the first great
male blues guitarist.

He was born, we
think around 1893,

the son of sharecroppers.

By 1917, he's in Dallas,
playing the guitar

on street corners, and
already becoming a big star.

It's said that he was
earning $150 a week

in tips on the street.

Now, in 1917, that is one
hell of a lot of money.

He starts recording
in 1926 for Paramount

and he goes to
Chicago to record.

Very short recording career.

He's only recording for
four years before he dies.

But the recording
industry is in its infancy

in 1926 when he starts

and prior to that,
we've had Mamie Smith

and some of the female
blues singers really singing

backed by what you'd
have to call a jazz band.

Blind Lemon Jefferson

is the first solo guitarist
playing the Blues on record.

♪ I ain't
got no mama now

♪ I ain't got no mama now

♪ She told me late last night

♪ You don't need no mama no, no

♪ Mmm black snake
crawling in my room ♪

He's got this kind
of haunting moaning voice,

these fantastic songs
I can see the migrators

kept cleaning their
Black Snake Moan.

He's a phenomenal guitar player

and you can hear that

even through the hiss and
the crackle of the records,

because the quality of the
preservation of these recordings

is not that great

but he's a phenomenal guitarist.

He's playing these
single-note lead runs,

and then these bass lines

and these choppy rhythms
and pulls and tremolos.

In a way, you can hear
all the techniques

that we have come to associate

with electric guitar
playing being essayed really

on this rudimentary
acoustic guitar.

Where Jefferson
provided the template

for the Blues guitarist,
two of his protegees

would further his style
and develop the sound

of Texas blues beyond
its acoustic origins.

They too, would become
hugely influential figures,

T-Bone Walker and
Lightnin Hopkins.

T-Bone Walker was
born in Texas in 1910,

so he is about 17 years younger

than Blind Lemon Jefferson.

He hooks up with
Jefferson in the 1920s,

becomes his eyes, leads
the blind man around,

and of course, while
he's doing that

learns all his guitar tricks.

The hallmark
of Texas blues

has always been the guitar,

that's what defines
the Texas sound

is the playing of the guitar.

The way one approaches
that instrument.

T-Bone emulated the
style of Blind Lemon.

He does take a lot
of the patterns

and the kind of single
string arpeggio runs

that one hears in Blind Lemon.

But he's applying them
to an electric guitar,

an elecrified guitar.

T-Bone introduced
the electric guitar

as a lead instrument
in rhythm and blues

T-Bone was highly sophisticated.

T-Bone was a showman.

He electrified the audience.

Not only with his guitar playing

which was incredibly virtuosic,

but in just the way he
presented himself on stage.

♪ Mother says
son you was born lucky

♪ But remember you
gotta die one day

♪ Woah, yes you was born lucky

♪ Remember you
gotta die one day ♪

Lightnin' Hopkins

is another pioneering
Texas blues guitarist.

Like T-Bone Walker,

he hooks up with Blind Lemon
Jefferson in the 1920s.

At this point, he's
playing an acoustic guitar

but he too, picks up
an electric guitar

there is some sessions that
are particularly significant

in this context,
which he recorded

for the New York-based
Herald label in 1954

where he plugged in.

I guess he took the
T-Bone Walker style

of electric guitar
and just amped it up,

rocked it up, a little bit more.

So you can see all
of these things

as different stations
of the cross, really,

on the journey to a fully
electrified Texas blues sound.

♪ Woah she
an evil hearted woman

♪ Woah she won't
treat nobody right

♪ Yeah, she an
evil hearted woman

♪ She won't treat nobody right

There's a further link

to the kind of
blues rock element

that Stevie Ray Vaughan
eventually comes to represent,

because he gets taken up
by the rock and roll crowd.

He's opening shows
for The Grateful Dead.

I think at one point,
in the late 60s,

he even records an album with
the 13th Floor Elevators,

who were this Texas garage band.

Again, the blues and the rock

are coming closer together

in the person of
Lightnin' Hopkins.

There's a nice symmetry, really,

because he lives on until 1982,

which is when he
dies, and of course,

is just when Stevie Ray
Vaughan is getting going.

For white Texans

in the 1940s and
the 50s however,

awareness of the work of
Walker and Hopkins was minimal.

Although Texas was in
part culturally distinct

from the deep south
states to its east,

it shared their appalling
racial politics.

Segregation was firmly in place,

and popularly supported
across the state.

Yet the music of the bluesmen

did enter the consciousness
of young white artists.

As the melding of styles
that was rock and roll

exploded across America,

white Texan bands began
to incorporate the sounds

pioneered by these black
musicians into their own work.

One of the great
things about music in Texas,

we didn't pay much attention
to segregation laws.

The law said blacks and whites,

and even browns,
Mexican Americans,

weren't supposed to mix.

They always did with music.

In the fifties, for
instance in Dallas,

the best-known
rock and roll act,

really the first local
band of any prominence

was called The Nightcaps,

and they were white boys
doing rhythm and blues.

♪ Go to
school around nine

♪ I get in the corner
and I drink my wine

♪ Drinkin' wine, wine, wine

♪ Drinkin' wine, wine, wine

♪ Drinkin' wine, wine, wine

♪ Wine all the time

♪ You get your girl,
and I'll get mine

♪ Here for a while
then buy some wine

♪ Drinkin' wine, wine, wine

Wine, Wine,
Wine was an anthem

for all kinds of kids
growing up in Texas.

Certainly the song Thunderbird,

which Stevie Vaughan
later covered,

many people have covered,

it was always there.

As the next wave

of the popular music
revolution hit the US

in the mid-1960s,

following the coming of
the British Invasion,

a handful of white Texans

were again bringing their
distinctive Blues heritage

into the spotlight.

This time, to both national
and international audiences.

Yet, many of these acts,

like the psychedelic garage
band, the 13th Floor Elevators,

had to travel to the west
coast to make their name.

The most prominent,
singer Janis Joplin,

actively disassociated
herself from her home state.

At the close of
the decade however,

a figure emerged who
aimed to carry the torch

sparked by Blind Lemon Jefferson

back at the start
of the century.

Johnny Winter, signed in
1968 to Columbia Records

with the biggest
advance in the history

of the recording industry

was a white singer and guitarist

who proudly identified
himself as a Texas bluesman.

Winter was the guy
that started all this.

It was Columbia signing him

and offering him crazy
money at the time,

that changed the rules
and changed the way

music was being
looked at in Texas.

♪ Yeah, I work for a
dollar could not save a lousy

♪ Man couldn't save a dime

♪ Ain't nobody worried and
there ain't nobody's crying ♪

Columbia signed him

Steve Paul made him into a star,

basically selling black blues

as played by an albino
white as rock and roll.

Of course Johnny Winter
played Woodstock,

with his band, and
it was very telling

he had a power trio, basically,

which really set the stage
for bands like ZZ Top,

and later, for Stevie Ray
Vaughan and Double Trouble,

and in his band
was a bass player

that came out of Dumas,
Texas, up in the panhandle,

by the name of Tommy Shannon

and a drummer by the name
of Uncle John Turner.

If you think
of Texas Blues

as being dirt road
through the countryside,

Johnny Winter paved it.

He put the asphalt down.

In part, what
distinguishes Texas Blues

from, say Mississippi Blues,

is that the black
population in Texas

was much more dispersed
throughout the state.

There wasn't this
heavy concentration.

There had been in east Texas,
but when the cotton fields

were devastated by
the boll weevil,

people moved to the cities
of Houston and Dallas,

to some extent to Austin.

It was a much more
diverse community.

Johnny Winter grew up
in the golden triangle,

in the area around
Beaumont and Orange

which produced Janis
Joplin and others.

These were people
who were connected

to a kind of swamp loose,

and they were connected to
the Cajun and Creole sounds

that they grew up hearing,
being so close to Louisiana.

Johnny Winter created
a certain mythos

about the whole idea of
Texas blues and Texas music.

In that way, he influenced
young musicians musically

but I think in a bigger sense

he helped define
the marketplace,

the branding for what the
world began to recognize

as being Texas blues.

Despite Winter's
swift rise to prominence,

in the 1970s new musical
forms flourished.

The blues, once again
returned to the margins.

It would remain there
for more than a decade

before another artist emerged,

who both revitalized
the genre itself

and re-established the brand
that Winter had developed.

Dallas, Texas,

it was here in 1954 that
Stevie Ray Vaughan was born.

At first, raised along
with older brother Jimmy

in the Cockrell Hill
area of the city

by parents Jim and Martha.

After numerous relocations,
the family settled

in the district of
Oak Cliff in 1961.

Jimmy and Stevie
Vaughan grew up in Oak Cliff,

which in the context of
Dallas, Texas, even today

it's south of the Trinity River.

It's blue collar working class.

Whenever you think of
Dallas as this new shiny,

you know, the TV series,
the Dallas Cowboys,

glittering buildings,
that's all north Dallas.

That's not Oak Cliff,

that was traditionally
the black part of town,

and today, remains
very African American,

Mexican American,
Mexican immigrant,

and talk about a music history.

Oak Cliff is where T-Bone
Walker really got his chops.

Aaron T-Bone Walker

was also known as
Oak Cliff T-Bone.

Stevie's
family was, I think,

relatively typical in the
sense that his father,

who they called Big Jim,
was a blue collar worker

that traveled wherever
the jobs were.

The family was uprooted,
at least temporarily

on occasion while he
worked particular jobs.

Stevie's mother also
relatively typical

in the sense that
to make ends meet,

she worked as an office
worker, as a secretary.

That left some time

for Stevie and
Jimmy at home alone.

Who knows, maybe
that contributed

to their interest
in playing guitar,

because they had to fill
their time with something.

The brothers'
interest in music

was more than just a
time filler however.

It soon became a passion.

When they moved to
Oak Cliff in 1961,

first Jimmy and then Stevie
had begun playing the guitar.

Yet the popular music of the
time was far from stimulating.

Despite being an incendiary
force in the mid-to-late 1950s,

by now the rebellious
fervor of rock and roll

had died down, and the
charts were dominated

by crooners and
doo wop ensembles.

For youngsters growing up
in the segregated world

of the south however,
the radio provided access

into a far more raw
and vital musical world

that was emanating
almost unnoticed,

from the black
communities around them.

These stations and shows

inspired a whole generation
of white blues musicians.

Kids in Texas, kids
growing up in Dallas,

at night, when you had AM radio

and you had these stations

that were called clear
channel stations,

50,000 watt stations,
where you could hear

their signal from
all over the place,

in Dallas and in Fort
Worth where I grew up,

you could pick up
WLS in Chicago.

They had Top 40 radio.

WLAC in Nashville,
the John R. Show

where John R.
Some pretty serious blues

and he also sold blues music
through Randy's Record Shop.

Also, you cannot discount
the border blasters,

the Mexican radio
stations on the border,

on the Mexican side
of the Rio Grande

that would exceed the power
limits of the United States.

From the big X XERF, XEG, XELO,

that's where I
heard Wolfman Jack

turn me onto a generation
of blues artists.

Late night on the radio,

I could get those
powerful stations

out of Louisiana and Del
Rio, the Wolfman Jack.

When I heard blues, I had
to find out what it was.

The music just captured
my imagination.

I didn't even know
what to call it.

There was a
radio station in Dallas

called WRR, and at
10 or 11:00 at night

Jim Lowe came on
with Kat's Karavan

and everything was
all different then.

Of course, I was supposed
to be in bed asleep

and I was in bed,
but I wasn't asleep.

It's the typical thing, you
have that radio right there,

you've turned it up loud enough

where you can hear it
but mom and dad don't.

That's when Jim Lowe, he
was playing Lightin' Hopkins

and all the accello records,

that's where I first heard
Lazy Lester, Lightnin' Slim,

all the accelo stuff,
and all the other stuff

that was more bluesy
and more hardcore R&B

that was a little bit too deep
for Top 40 in the daylight.

♪ I've been out west

♪ I'm headed east

♪ I want my baby

♪ Back home with me

♪ Well, she don't grab that

♪ Mean old train and gone

Now we knew what
labels to look for,

so we'd go to our record store

and just go through stuff,

and when we saw Duke
Records, or Chess Records,

or Accelo Records, VJ Records,

when we saw those
labels, it was like,

"Oh, red flag."

We discovered a lot on our own,

with some help from Jim
Lowe and late night radio.

The
subterranian nature

of this interest in blues
music shifted almost over night

with the coming of the
British Invasion in 1964.

♪ I am the
little red rooster

♪ Two lays and I crow for days

As the Beatles,
The Rolling Stones,

The Yard Birds, and
many others acts

introduced a wider
American audience

to music that had previously
been marginalized,

blues was elevated
into the mainstream.

In Oak Cliff, Texas,

Jimmy Vaughan was becoming a
serious scholar of the genre

and passing his knowledge
on to his younger brother.

What has
inspired you throughout

who is your?

My brother,
Jimmy Vaughan.

He's the reason I got started,

and he's also the inspiration
for a lot, lot of musicians.

Because of him, I was
able to hear B.B. King,

Freddie King, Albert Collins,

Albert King, Lonnie Mack,
Buddy Guy, Muddy Waters,

Alan Wolf, Kenny
Burrell, Jimmy Smith

on and on, on and on.

They're all very big influences.

Stevie was
fortunate growing up

to have an older brother
who was bringing home music.

He was bringing home everything

from blues to rock and roll.

Then also about the same time

you've got The Beatles
coming on Ed Sullivan,

and the whole British
Invasion music,

exposing Americans
to blues music.

Certainly, Stevie got all of
those influences all at once.

With popular music
entering its most fertile period

since the initial
wave of rock and roll,

in the mid 60s, both
Jimmy and Stevie

joined their first
high school bands,

The Pendulums,
and The Shantones.

Playing cover material at
dances and talent contests.

The Pendulums soon progressed
to a wider circuit however,

and in this group, Jimmy Vaughan
began to attract attention.

By 1966, he was drafted
into The Chessmen,

who had enjoyed
some local success,

and soon the elder of
the Vaughan brothers

was being singled out

as one of the best guitarists
on the Dallas scene.

In Dallas,

there were labels
like Records,

which had these pop acts,

John and Robin and the In-Crowd.

Scotty McKay, who
was really trying

to imitate The
Yardbirds doing blues.

The Five Americans
had national hits

broke out of Dallas
with I See the Light.

One of these bands that
kind of rose to prominence

was The Chessmen.

Now, Jimmy Vaughan joined it

after The Chessmen were
already kind of established.

They had had a
couple of local hits

and when I say "hits"
there were singles

that probably sold
5,000 copies maybe.

That would get you gigs

at teen canteens, and
clubs like Louanns,

and maybe if you
were lucky enough

you could back up
someone like Jimmy Reed.

When Jimmy Reed came and played
Louanns for the white kids,

what it did for Jimmy
is it gave him exposure.

They were a
big deal in Dallas.

What's really
strange about that is

when Jimmy joined the band

he was like 15 and
just almost overnight

he became the man at 15.

All the guitar
players are going,

"You gotta hear this kid".

Jimmy's name got around,

and I finally heard him in 1967.

He got a gig with the
band The Chessmen,

and there was a Sunday
afternoon matinee

at this club, and I heard Jimmy.

I was excited to hear this kid
that I'd been hearing about.

I was seven years
older than him.

When I heard him,

even though they were
just doing covers,

I went, "Well, I see
why I had heard of him".

I thought he was, at 17, I
thought this guy's better than -

He is good.

We will hear more of Jimmy.

Most people felt that way.

If The Chessman

offered Jimmy Vaughan exposure,

the group provided something
else for his younger sibling.

Stevie was befriended

by their drummer and
vocalist, Doyle Bramhall,

who gave the 12-year-old both
encouragement and support.

The pair would become
lifelong friends

and occasional musical allies.

Yet, it was through
Jimmy's record collection

that the young guitarist
found his inspiration.

In 1967, he was
introduced to an artist

that would prove a
significant influence

on his subsequent
style and sound,

Jimi Hendrix.

When Stevie was just
getting started on guitar,

Jimmy brought home a Jimi
Hendrix record, Purple Haze.

I think this really
knocked Stevie for a loop.

♪ Purple
haze was in my brain

♪ Lately things
don't seem the same

♪ I'm acting funny
but I don't know why

♪ 'Scuse me while I kiss the sky

♪ Purple Haze

Jimi Hendrix is probably

the single most
significant figure

in the fusion of blues and rock.

It's a much derided
word these days,

but in making it progressive

and by that I mean the
genuine sense of the word

of moving this music into
new, uncharted territory.

Technically, he's a
phenomenal guitarist.

He's got a deep reverence
for the roots of the blues

but he's also played R&B
with the Isley Brothers

and so on and so forth,

so he's got all
the bases covered.

He's got this
fantastic technique

coupled with this fertile
inventive imagination,

which leads him to
experiment with sounds

that you wouldn't
previously have associated

with an electric guitar.

One of the things that's
interesting is these people

who have such a huge
profound influence

on everything that follows them,

so many of them are recording

for such a short period of time.

We've talked about how
Blind Lemon Jefferson's

recording career only
lasted for four years.

Of course, pretty
much the same is true

with Jimi Hendrix as well.

Session
work prior to that,

but he begins recording
with Jimi Hendrix Experience

in 1966, and by 1970, he's dead.

In the
wake of Hendrix,

rock music became heavier.

The spotlight
shifted from frontmen

to virtuoso lead guitarists.

First Cream and then Led
Zeppelin emerged from the UK,

ushering in a new era

of lengthy solos
and extreme volume.

Stevie incorporated
these new trends

into his own playing.

Now at high school

and a member of the band,
The Brooklyn Underground,

although a shy and
quiet teenager,

he was beginning to
make his presence known

to fellow musicians.

I met him
in the lunch room

at Campbel High school.

In probably '68, '69,

I think it was his
sophomore year,

and it was my senior year.

He just came up to me one day,

"Hi Roddy!"

I didn't know who he was.

He said, "Well I'm Jimmy
Vaughan's little brother".

"Okay", you know.

I was already playing with bands

from three or four years.

The first time we
jammed together,

I knew this guy's a
serious guitar player.

He would call me occasionally,

"Hey, can you come by?"

Because I had a
car and he didn't.

We started going around
town a little bit.

I remember the
first time he said,

"Hey, let's go down to
the Aragon Ballroom",

and it was this black club
way over in south Dallas.

We go in this place,

and the guy at the front
door, he's got one eye,

"Stevie, go on in, man!".

Here I am, I'm 18

I can't even get into the clubs

and Stevie's getting
me into the door.

We'd go in and sit in and play.

His big jam song was
always Crossroads,

the Clapton version.

That was the big song.

He'd get up there
and tear it up,

everybody loved it.

♪ I'm going
down to Rosedale

♪ Take my rider by my side

♪ Going down to Rosedale

♪ Take my rider by my side

♪ You can still
barrelhouse, baby

♪ On the riverside

Clapton had a huge
effect on Stevie.

He could lip-synch and
air guitar every riff.

He spent hours and hours
learning his style.

At the same time,

my brother gave me a Albert
King album one Christmas.

It was Live Wire Blues Power.

I loaned it to Stevie,

and said, "Hey man,
you gotta hear this".

A year and a half later,

I get the album back.

I still have it, it
has my name on there

to make sure that he would
know whose it was.

It was Albert King,

a Mississippi-born
guitarist and singer,

who had only risen
to prominence in 1967

while he was in his late 40s,

who would become the
dominant influence

upon the young Vaughan.

Drawing the teenager's attention
away from British players

to the authentic
heart of the blues.

What were some of
the tunes, if you can remember,

some of the slow blueses, and
what were some of the things

that helped you
develop your style?

Albert King
records, for one thing.

B.B. King Live at The Regal,

Albert King Born Under Bad Sign,

I guess it was called at first.

Or was it King of
the Blues Guitar?

I think it was Born
Under Bad Sign,

is what they were
calling it at the time.

I remember seeing,
believe it or not,

Albert King on TV,

doing Born Under Bad Sign,
and I was like "Yes!"

When
singer-songwriter

and future
collaborator Marc Benno

was first joined on
stage by Stevie in 1969,

King's style had by now
become the key inspiration

for the young guitarist.

His technique impressed the
more-established musician.

He got up
there and he played

a kind of a skeletal
Albert King.

He didn't really
have all the cards

in the deck put together yet

but he had a really sweet
vibrato and an incredible tone.

I remember people
were screaming,

and it was already a phenomenon

but he was no
master of the guitar

but he was really talented
for a 98 pound kid.

He had a lot of obstacles,
being Jimmy Vaughan's brother.

At the time, Jimmy was
really not nice to anybody.

It's not all sweet Mary
Poppins stuff here.

I think Jimmy had
some tough guys

that he patterned himself after.

Guitar players don't
generally like each other

very much anyway.

It's a competitive,
gunslinger-type deal

and it sure was back then.

I remember he told Stevie,

"Listen you start
teaching yourself"

"how to play guitar."

"Don't ever play one
of my licks again."

"You play that lick again,"

"and I'm gonna beat your butt."

What happened that night,

at the end it goes he
played that lick again,

which was one of
Jimmy's favorite licks.

Let's just say that
I witnessed something

that kind of shocked me.

He encouraged him to
teach himself to play

after that night.

Although
Jimmy Vaughan

had begun to treat
his younger brother

in a harsh and irritable manner,

other musicians on the
scene were more nurturing.

No longer interested in playing
covers of Top 40 material.

In 1969, Jimmy had
formed the blues group

Texas Storm with Doyle Bramhall

and singer Paul Ray.

These bandmates
actively encouraged

Stevie's development.

Jimmy and I were
playing in a band together

called the Storm, Texas Storm.

Big Jim and Martha
came in with Stevie

and he was just a
little kid in '69,

so whatever that made him.

At the break, I had
this old gretsch

club fat
guitar, looked like furniture.

It looked like a coffee table.

Stevie was enamored of the
look of the guitar and all

so during the break,

he came over and he said,

"Can I look at your guitar?"

Because Jimmy was playing
it once in a while,

just to be playing it.

He got it and was sitting
there on the stage

and he said, "Let's
do Stormy Monday."

I felt to play, and I
see the Stormy Monday

and I said, "If you're
sitting right here, okay."

This is good, we're sitting
on the edge of the stage,

and it was break.

Just me and Stevie
did Stormy Monday.

That's when I went,

"He has learned some lessons",

but he wasn't there yet.

He had it all T-Bone and
Jimmy and all the people

that he'd heard.

Stevie was
bringing these influences

and techniques into
his own ensembles.

Having graduated from
The Brooklyn Underground

and another blues rock cover
band, Southern Distributor.

In 1970, he joined
a far-larger unit,

Liberation, who had already
established themselves

in the Dallas club circuit.

Here, he met saxophonist
Jim Tremmier.

Liberation was
a ten-piece horn band

We had two lead singers.

I had tonsilitis in my
senior year in high school.

When I came back
after tonsilitis,

Stevie was in the band

and my impression of him

was he played better than
anybody I ever heard,

up to that point.

Stevie, although he was
a rock player back then,

he was totally steeped in blues.

He liked playing Clapton licks,

he liked playing Crossroads,

he liked playing Jimi Hendrix,

but his first love was blues.

I had a car.

We would drive after school,

he would have his
guitar with him.

He sat in the car the
whole time playing guitar.

He would play guitar,
he would play guitar.

He would play this and that,

and he would repeat things
over and over again.

We would go to his house,

listen to records.

He loved John Lee Hooker.

There was a John
Lee Hooker album

he would listen to over
and over and over again.

♪ Daddy taught me
how to do the

♪ I'll tell you one thing I know

♪ How to boogie, boogie,
boogie, boogie, boogie, boogie

♪ All night long yes, yes

♪ I said boogie, boogie
baby, boogie all night long

♪ All right we're going
to boogie woogie ♪

One of my memories

is a song called Boogie
Woogie All Night Long.

Stevie would play that
song over and over.

There was sort of a false ending

where John Lee Hooker
kind of go uh-ah-ah-ah

and Stevie loved the ending.

He copied it exactly
like John Lee Hooker

and he would play it
50 times in a sitting.

Liberation
was a short-lived outfit.

Yet its live shows initiated
the 15-year-old Vaughan

on the Dallas club circuit.

Shortly after he left the
band in September 1970,

he was then offered the chance

to record in the studio
for the first time.

Local businessman John Bovewell

was funding an album
project entitled "A New Hi"

which would compile the work

of five Dallas high school
bands, and Stevie was invited

to join Cast of
Thousands on the record.

A unit formed by songwriters
Bobby Foreman and Jim Rigby.

Bobby Foreman
had heard him play

and then he calls and says,
"This guy's unbelievable."

"You're not gonna
believe how good he is."

At the time Jimmy Vaughan,

everybody said was
the best in Texas.

There's no question.

Stevie was sort of the
little kid brother.

I would see him in school
but he was so quiet,

and we all thought
he was a druggie.

Which he may have been too

but the reason he
was like he was,

was because he was
sneaking out at night

and playing in clubs
at 15, 16 years old.

He was somehow
playing all night,

maybe getting a
couple hours sleep,

and coming back and
getting through school.

The project
was to be five bands,

one from each of the
south Dallas high schools.

Each band would do two songs,

so there was an
album with ten songs.

The boys in the band would sell
these albums as fundraisers.

They would actually get
a little bit of money,

a dollar here and there,

and the promoter would submit
this to local radio stations

and whichever band
got the most airplay

was going to get to
record their own album.

There'd been a
group in Fort Worth

called Blood Rock, who did a
song about a traffic accident

where somebody bleeds to death.

They were like a one-hit wonder.

That was enough success
for this manager to think,

"Okay, I can do this."

"I'll put this together, I'll
pay for the recording studio."

"I'll promise these
kids the moon."

Possibly he was planning
on delivering someday.

Stevie Ray, Stevie at
that point, signs on.

We start rehearsing,
and instantly I realize

I've never seen
anybody like this kid.

We practice, we go to the studio

and they like our stuff.

We get to cut two songs.

When Stevie starts to play,

the people in the sound
booth start leaning forward.

It's like they're almost pressing their face on the glass.

I look over, and he hadn't
done this in rehearsal,

but his hand looked
like a hummingbird.

It was moving so fast

that I couldn't make
the fingers out.

The studio was blown
away by Stevie.

We're sitting there
trying to concentrate

on playing and
singing and things.

I could see them out
the corner of my eye

almost like a child
looking into a candy shop,

just kind of leaning over,

"What in the hell is this?"

Because he was like a
force of nature already.

♪ I heard
a voice last night

♪ As I lay here last night

♪ And it said yes
it said the word

♪ Like the scene in
the

♪ I heard a voice

To me, it was
a great moment,

and we weren't trying
to make it permanent

It's a high school band

but you see the potential there.

At that time, he hadn't
found his own style,

so he was imitating Eric
Clapton and Jimi Hendrix

and that's where the speed
stuff was coming from.

The band members admit

that they didn't give this
project their best material

because they were afraid
it was going to get stolen.

They were kind of
holding back a little bit

so the song selection
limited Stevie a little bit

because it wasn't the
band's strongest material.

But still, we see

that Stevie can take
an original song

and put guitar to it.

He doesn't have to hear
something on the radio

and mimic it.

This is new material,
this is new guitar stuff.

It's stuff created by
Stevie for these songs.

The engineer who recorded
on these five bands

for the project

said that after listening
to all these bands

and seeing Stevie play,

he said, "That guy's a ringer."

"This guy's got an
unfair advantage."

"He must have been brought in"

"specifically to win
this competition".

But he wasn't.

He was just the best
guitar player around.

Upon the
record's release,

Cast of Thousands
received more airplay

than any of the competing
bands on the LP.

Yet the project fell apart

when organizer John Bovewell
was arrested for murder.

Yet Stevie Vaughan had
already moved on by this time,

working his way through
a number of new outfits,

including Pecos and
The Derek Jones Party.

It was in the band
Lincoln, however,

that he first worked with
Christian Charles de Plicque,

a vocalist whom he
had long admired.

In August 1971, no longer
attached to any group,

de Plicque brought Vaughan

to the home of
organist Noel Deis,

where rehearsals
were taking place

for a new ensemble, Blackbird.

It was in this band

that Stevie first
came to prominence.

I think he was 16 or
17 when I first met him.

He was kind of reticent.

Kind of a little
bit of a shy kid.

I went "Wow, this is
Jimmy's brother, huh?"

Because Jimmy was the guitar god

of the Dallas area at the time.

You can't overemphasize
the drive that Stevie had

to be at least as
good as his brother.

He really wanted to be

at least as good as Jimmy was.

When he came to play with us

it was kind of his
chance, I think.

It was his chance to
get away from the house,

and get out of the house

and get into a band that
could take him some place.

Blackbird
fulfilled that need.

Initially a six-piece ensemble,

the band developed their act

during regular shows at
the Cellar Club in Dallas.

Unlike Vaughan's
previous groups,

although Blackbird still
played cover material,

their repertoire was
inspired by a new band,

whose unique sound was
bringing southern roots music

directly into the mainstream.

In 1969, shortly after Johnny
Winter's rise to prominence,

an act emerged who would
spearhead a new wave of music

emanating from the
American south,

The Allman Brothers Band.

Drawing firsthand from
the blues and soul artists

around whom they had grown up,

this Floridian unit
exhibited an authenticity

that their British forebearers
could never deliver.

They became the inspiration

and the template for Blackbird.

The Allman Brothers
got our attention

because they had, first
of all, Gregg Allman,

who's a wonderful singer.

Between the two guitarists,

and the Hamman B3,

and the drive, the sheer drive,

and creativity those guys had.

They were also a jam band,

which we loved to do.

We wanted to be a jam band,

and that was part
of out schtick.

The way they synthesized
all those elements together

was just food for us.

For Stevie, the key
inspiration within the band

was their talismanic leader

and virtuoso guitarist,
Duane Allman.

The Derek Jones party,

their manager, Dan Louis,

his dad ran the ushering service

at the state fair music hall

so we would get free tickets.

I remember the night

that we got two free tickets

to see The Allman Brothers Band.

Stevie and I sat
up in the balcony

right over the stage,

and watched the show

and its like blew us away.

The two drummers slamming it

and jamming and Duane
Allman and all of them

at the top of their
game at that point.

Two weeks later,
Duane Allman died.

Stevie would study people.

He studied Clapton and
I mean studied him.

He learned every
lick on the record

and same thing with Duane

we listened to all their stuff.

That slide guitar
style that he developed

was new.

It broke new ground

and Stevie wanted a
part of that action.

One thing that's
never mentioned much

is how great a slide
player he really was.

In that band, he
just caught fire.

You could just see smoke
coming off of the fretboard

when he got a slide out

and just really went at it.

We had lots of
practice at The Cellar

so we're forever
indebted to The Cellar

to this day, in a way.

By late 1971,

Blackbird were becoming
a prominent fixture

on the Dallas circuit.

Vaughan's lead work

opposite fellow
guitarist Kim Davis

was establishing his reputation.

In October, after years
of poor attendance records

and average grades,
the band's success

convinced him to
quit high school

and to pursue his
musical ambitions

on a full time basis.

This was a
time when Stevie

was really developing
his tool set.

He started as a reticent shy kid

and he learned to be a
showman in that band.

He just caught fire.

All that dueling with Kim

and all the back-and-forth,

that was a key part
of our whole thing.

Plus, we had a black singer.

Now, that was also a
big deal in Dallas.

You just didn't see

that many black guys in a
rock band, for one thing.

Then the way that
Christian dressed

he wore these big earrings

and had these sort
of mumu things on,

it's like really cutting edge.

We sort of took off
in a different way

than the copy bands that
I previously played with.

We sort of got a little
bit of a cult following

and they were sort
of catching on.

We had a friend, Lou Stokes,

he would draw these
great posters.

We would start packing
little mini concerts

that we were doing.

The kids were starting to
kind of catch on to it.

We would have three or
400 people at a gig.

We thought we were on
our way to stardom.

Blackbird's
local success

was, however, limited by
the lack of opportunities

in Dallas itself.

Yet, there was another
city, 200 miles south,

that had a growing reputation
as a musical hotbed,

Austin.

At the suggestion of their
bassist, David Frame,

it was here that
the band relocated

at the close of 1971.

Mike Hendrid, the pianist

he played with The Mystics,

and a really great pianist also,

he started playing with
this band, Crackerjack,

down in Austin.

Frame was really good
friends with them.

Frame was going down to Austin

to visit with Mike and
watching this band Crackerjack

it was Johnny Winter's
old rhythm section,

Tommy Shannon and
Uncle John Turner.

He would go down there,

he came back and says,

"Man we've gotta move to
Austin. We've got to."

I think David Frame

had a whole lot to do
with us moving down there.

Austin was
a progressive oasis

in the heart of
conservative Texas.

The countercultural
revolution that had spread

through the US in
the late 1960s,

had been harshly repressed
across the state.

Yet, this small college town

had embraced it.

The Vulcan Gas Company,

the first major
psychedelic club in Texas,

had opened its doors in 1967.

Showcasing the most
groundbreaking acts

then emerging on
the national scene,

alongside local bands and
blues and R&B legends.

It had been followed

by the Armadillo World
Headquarters in 1970.

The venue from which progressive
country would blossom.

With numerous smaller venues

scattered throughout the city,

it was an obvious destination

for the frustrated
musicians of Dallas.

That's what happened
in the 1970s in Austin.

There was a whole load

of young, ambitious players.

Like Paul Ray, Danny
Freeman, Jimmy Vaughan,

Stevie Vaughan, Doyle Bramhall.

They all drifted
down from Dallas.

There was just more
of a sense of community

It was just a small -

Dallas is a big
town, big spread out.

There was a lot of
longhaired people up there,

but it was a big, fast city

compared to Austin.

Austin was a sleepy
little college town

with a whole lot of
pretty girls in it.

There was a few cities
around the country

that kind of had a rep

as being havens for
long-haired people and stuff.

Austin was just one
of those places.

There was a community
of people like that.

There was just a community
of like-minded people,

so you felt kind of safe,

and, of course, that
would attract musicians.

Austin became a music
town in the '70s,

really in my opinion.

Jimmy Vaughan

and his sometime
bandmates, Denny Freeman,

Doyle Bramhall, and Paul Ray,

had gravitated to this
music town in mid 1970,

looking to establish their brand

of traditional blues among
the divergent musical styles

that were flourishing
in Austin at the time.

Although he was again following
in his brother's footsteps,

when Stevie Vaughan
arrived in the city

in late '71 with Blackbird,

he entered a totally
different circuit,

playing the popular rock clubs.

Within weeks, he and
the band were propelled

to the very top of the scene.

There was a tendency

for people to follow
the local acts

and people were
always interested

in who's got the
best guitar player,

who's got the best music,

and where's the best
scene happening.

Our competition was a
band called Crackerjack.

These were founded
by two former members

of Johnny Winter's band,

basically his whole band

Tommy Shannon and
Uncle John Turner.

They were a great band.

They had a great concept.

They had more original
stuff than we did

so it was really between
Blackbird and Crackerjack

dominated the scene.

People would go from
one bar to the other,

or one gig to the other

just to follow us.

Jimmy had
already moved here,

and so I'd gotten to know Jimmy

and I'd been playing
with Jimmy and stuff.

Jimmy and I had become friends

and so Stevie would
come down here.

I started getting to
know Stevie a little bit.

I think I probably
first heard him here

playing with that
band, Blackbird.

He was maybe 17, maybe,
not much more than that.

"God, now there's two of them."

It was obvious pretty
early on to a lot of people

that we're gonna be hearing
more from this kid too.

Unlike in Dallas,

audiences in Austin at the time

were more aware of
Stevie Vaughan's talents

than those of his older brother.

While Blackbird played
at the South Door,

the Waterloo Social Club,

and other venues
on the rock circuit

to packed crowds,

Jimmy's band Storm
were playing residency

at the One Knite Club,
struggling to draw attention

to a musical form that
was no longer in demand.

There was a pure blues
scene in Austin, no question,

and Jimmy was right
at the center of it

but it was a very separate
scene from our circuit.

Some people crossed over

to go hear Jimmy and
Storm at the One Knite,

but a lot of people didn't.

They really followed either
Crackerjack or Blackbird.

It wasn't
really happening.

People didn't ...

It was like, you gave
a gig and nobody came.

I mean sometimes we'd make
three or $4 a piece there.

It was like I was really surprised because I thought that -

I mean, I don't know
how good we were.

We couldn't have been that bad,

because Doyle was singing
and playing drums.

Jimmy was playing guitar,
I was playing guitar

and I thought well "Gosh,
it couldn't be that bad".

Whether we were good or not,

Jimmy was in the band.

I just thought "Well,
he's got cash A already".

It appeared that the
further Jimmy got into blues

it was kind of
inversely proprotional

to the people that had the
interest in him or something.

But we were stubborn,

and determined,

and we had some fairly
significant members

among our number,

and so we didn't go away.

It was not easy.

While
the blues players

remained in the margins,

in the second half of 1972,

the short reign of Blackbird
on the rock circuit

came to an end.

Despite the popularity
of the group.

Internal differences and
a lack of progression

caused band members to depart.

By the end of the year,

similar problems had beset
their rivals, Crackerjack.

This led to the
initial, brief union

of bassist Tommy Shannon
and Stevie Ray Vaughan.

At a certain point,

David Frame, our bass player,

he decided he wanted
to leave the band.

He went with this
band Too Smooth.

I think they had
a record deal too.

David left and it kind of
left us with no bass player

and Crackerjack was
starting to dissolve,

so we got Tommy to come
over into our band.

Not too long after that,

Christian left the band

and then Bruce Bowland
was the singer,

so it was Stevie, Shannon,
Bowland, and myself.

We played that way
maybe six months.

By December '72,

the constant lineup changing

saw Stevie Vaughan drafted
into a reformed Crackerjack.

Yet this lasted only two
months before disbanding.

Despite these disappointments,

a new project was about to
pull the young guitarist

out of Autstin and back
into a recording studio.

Mark Benno, whose career had
gained significant momentum

since Stevie joined him
on stage back in '69,

was looking for
fresh inspiration.

Having moved to the west coast
at the tail end of the '60s,

successfully
establishing himself,

first in the group The Asylum
Choir with Leon Russell,

and later as a solo artist.

Benno returned to his
home state in March 1973,

looking to assemble
a Texas blues band

for his new record.

The first player he
approached was Jimmy Vaughan.

He said, "No, I don't
want to play any rock."

"I'm done with rock.

"I'm just gonna play pure
blues and that's it."

"Okay," I said.

"I don't know if I'm just
gonna play Jimmy Reed."

"But I'm gonna play that far."

"No, no. That stuff you
play is rock and roll"

"compared to what I'm gonna do."

I thought, "Well that's
kind of an insult,"

but he's probably right.

He said, "But what
about my brother?"

Jimmy had me follow him

over to Mother Blues,
a club in Austin,

to see his brother playing.

When I walked in, they
were already playing.

He was great

and I thought, "Oh, that
probably could work".

Then what happened was,

Jimmy had told Stevie,
"You better do it".

"This guy's got a contract."

"If it was me I'd do it."

"Go to Hollywood, go."

And he did.

With Stevie on board,

Benno also enlisted ex Chessmen

Doyle Bramhall and
Billy Etheridge

into his new ensemble,
The Nightcrawlers.

At the close of March 1973,

the band flew to Los Angeles

and headed to
Sunset Sound Studios

in Hollywood,

to begin work on the album.

Brushing shoulders with an
array of musical legends,

and introuced to
the narcotic exesses

of the LA music scene,

Stevie Vaughan was thrust

into a totally new environment.

Yet, despite his lack
of studio experience,

the youngest member
of the ensemble

provided both consistency
and creativity.

He never ran out of
ideas or made mistakes.

There was no two takes for him.

We'd go in the studio and
we'd be trying something

he's playing along with
it, it'd be beautiful.

"You wanna do it again?"

"Okay."

He'd play something
else beautiful.

We never, ever did a second take

because Stevie was nervous
or something, made a mistake.

He was neither.

He would loosen us up.

He kept us loose.

Then he could play
such serious parts

that you'd hear them
and they just was ...

It burn your sideburns off.

♪ Take me down easy

♪ Take me down slow

♪ If you drive like that

♪ You may never want to go

♪ You take me down easy yeah

♪ You take me down slow

I think in the
recording department

we hear that Stevie
has refined his style.

He's not as haphazard.

He knows where he's going,

and he can get back
to where he came from

more easily in his solos.

Just a more
professional approach.

The
sessions for the album

not only showcased

Vaughan's growing stylistic
and technical abilities,

but also developed
previously untapped skills.

Although the project was
ostensibly a solo album

for singer and
songwriter Marc Benno,

he encouraged his band,

in particular Stevie
and Doyle Bramhall,

to collaborate in the
composition of certain tracks.

If I brought
anything to the table,

when I was a young guy,
I was a songwriter.

These guys began to see it in me

and take the suggestions
and ideas from me.

Which I had gotten from Leon,

who's a brilliant sonngwriter.

JJ Cale, who began to
write these original tunes,

rather than just do Jimmy
Reed or somebody else's tunes,

so these guys picked up quick.

Like and as they were great
drummers, great guitar players,

they became great
songwriters immediately.

They'd pick that
stuff up, and go,

"Whoops, you're not gonna
need me much longer."

This was really
Stevie's first foray

into songwriting.

With a big help from Doyle.

They were good at it.

They were a good
songwriting team.

Dirty Pool ended up
being recorded by Stevie

on one of his albums.

It stayed one of the
staples of his stage show

really for the rest of his life.

He came out of the chute
with Doyle really fast

and then the band
with Mark Benno,

also recorded a song
called Crawling.

That originated out
of an instrumental

that Stevie created.

The band itself put
together some lyrics

and the rest of the music.

Stevie, here at age 19,

has started songwriting.

He didn't really continue
it that we know of,

with little exception,

until he started his own
band about five years later.

♪ True love is gone

♪ And I was being
played for a fool

♪ Love, true love is gone

♪ And I was being
played for a fool

♪ I'm turnin' tables on you

♪ 'Coz you been
playin' dirty pool

♪ You said you'd call
the shots darlin'

When he would
do an interlude

or just anything on the record,

it would just jump
off the record.

I always had an expression that

the more of a
person that you are,

I don't know if
this is true or not,

but the more of a
person that you are

and the more substance
you have in your being,

then when you make that record,

it's like a thumbprint.

The bigger the print,

the bigger the
soul of the person.

He had such a big print,

that when he would play, "Whoa,"

"it would just jump off
the record to everything."

You'd go, "Well there he is".

The same with Doyle,

Doyle's voice
would just be huge.

Now you have some people,

with a great voice go
in to record a record,

the presence is not there,

the soul is not there,

the person,
something's not there.

I call it the print.

Both of these guys
had gigantic prints.

Despite
the obvious talents

of the players he'd
selected for these sessions,

when Benno delivered the
results to A&M Records,

they were disapoointed
by the recordings

and lost interest
in the project.

During the summer of 1973,

the band briefly hit the road

as Mark Benno and
the Nightcrawlers,

and played a series of
shows supporting Humble Pie.

Yet, their drink
and drug comsumption

was now out of control.

They were dropped from the tour.

Benno made his way
back to Los Angeles

in an attempt to
rebuild his career,

while Vaughan and the
other band members

returned to Austin.

They stayed together, however,

and continued to play
as The Nightcrawlers,

with Doyle Bramhall taking
over as the frontman.

Yet, unlike Blackbird,

they had little interest
in the rock circuit

and the band settled
into a residency

at the One Knite Club.

Stevie Vaughan was now a part

of Austin's marginal
blues scene.

At one point,
Marc Benno left.

They became just
The Nightcrawlers,

a quartet with Doyle and Stevie,

Bruce Miller, Billy
Etheridge on keyboards.

They played around Austin,

and they played around Texas.

Played in Dallas,
all over the place.

I roded for The Nightcrawlers.

As far as Stevie's
technical abilities,

he was always great.

He always had great
technical ability.

He just got more and more
intense and more refined.

The Nightcrawlers

was the first time
I heard Stevie

start to sound more
like a blues player

than a rock player.

He had gotten hold of a,

I believe it was
a Howard Roberts

hollow body electric guitar,

which has a very fat body.

He was learning to
play Wes Montgomery

Octave Runs

and he was getting that,

there's a song called
Chitlins Con Carne.

I don't remember who did it,

but Stevie learned it.

He sounded like a man with
a Howard Roberts guitar,

not a man with a rock guitar.

That's the first time

I heard Stevie as
a blues player.

Although
Vaughan remained on and off

with The Nightcrawlers
for over a year,

in Austin, the blues scene
still had a very limited appeal

and the band struggled
to gain popularity.

Yet in December 1974,

they supported an
Austin ensemble,

who was successfully bringing
blues and roots music

into larger venues,
Paul Ray and The Cobras.

Featuring two ex-members
of Jimmy Vaughan's

earlier group, Storm,

this band represented a
possible next step for Stevie.

In the 70s,
Paul Ray and The Cobras

were top of the heap in Austin.

They were the
hottest band in town.

The music they played
was rhythm and blues.

It was easy to dance to.

That brought the girls in

and the girls
brought the guys in

but it was the music that
held it all together.

The Cobras were the best.

It was a New
Year's Eve in Dallas,

we were playing in a
place called Taco Flats.

We had a deal

where the Nightcrawlers
were opening.

During the break between bands,

Stevie came up and said,
"Can I play with you guys?"

I went "Sure. Of course."

"We could use
another instrument."

That's how he got
up on the stage

and started playing and
everything just picked up.

It was just, he fit.

He was so differential to everybody,
and so genuine and all.

He didn't have any
sort of an attitude,

he wanted to just keep playing.

He's ready to play some more.

Kid was phenomenal.

To be honest,

I was going, "Well, gosh."

"I've been carrying
it for a year,"

"and it kind of would be nice"

"to have, maybe a
piano player really."

But I really liked Stevie,
and he was real good.

He was younger than me,

but he was a really good player.

Besides that, everybody else
wanted Stevie in the band.

Why wouldn't you?

He always was really nice to me.

He treated me with respect,

and I treated him with respect.

We supported each other,
and so it actually

worked out good.

Stevie's
inclusion in The Cobras

propelled the band to
even greater popularity.

By March 1975, they
began a residency

at the Soap Creek Saloon.

Here they would
develp a reputation

as one of the most exciting
acts on the Austin circuit.

With Vaughan and Denny
Freeman's incendiary

and complementary guitar work,

a highlight for audiences.

While they were
expanding their fan base,

a new venue appeared
in the city,

that single-handedly
pulled blues music

back into the spotlight.

Antone's Nightclub, dubbed
Austin's home of the blues,

opened on July 15th, 1975.

Its owner, Clifford Antone,

looking to establish a setting

where the greatest names
on the national scene

could play alongside less
established local talent.

Almost overnight, it
changed everything.

The importance
and the significance

of Antone's Nightclub, it
couldn't be exaggerated.

It was a great place
for blues and for Austin

because if you're into
what we were into,

it was the cream of the crop

that was playing here at
Antone's, little Austin.

Clifford Antone
tried to make it really easy

by having people stay there,

maybe as long as a week,

make it worth their
while to drive down.

A lot of people don't like
to fly, or couldn't afford,

or whatever,

so it was hugely important.

Then for all the rest of us,

it was like blues college,

to get to know all
of your heroes.

Before that,

I had to go to Chicago

because I wanted to hear

Howlin' Wolf and Magic Sam
and Otis Rush and Muddy.

I got to meet some of
those people and everything

but it's rather inconvenient

to go all the way to Chicago,
to hear Chicago blues.

It was a huge
support for all of us

who really did take
blues seriously

and realize, because we'd
done enough playing around

that it wasn't in demand.

It had gone off of the radio.

There were no longer
blues shows on the radio.

None of that kind of support.

People just didn't think

it was hip or cool
or anyhting else.

You've got a club owner

that's willing to basically
underwrite all of this

and that's a big difference.

You're not playing
little shitholes anymore.

The one night's no
longer good enough.

Antone's university is what
built the blues scene here

and what made possible

the success of
Stevie Ray Vaughan

as well as many other
blues players out of here.

With the club
booking Muddy Waters,

John Lee Hooker,
Lightin' Hopkins,

and the who's who

of the greatest living
blues players available,

it soon became a venue

of international renown.

As the white Austin musicians

began to sit in
with these legends

it enabled them to develop
their own techniques.

In some cases,

to build friendships they'd
previously had only dreamed of.

Back in the
early days of Antone's,

we had Albert King.

Albert was one of those
really serious guys.

Didn't take any fooling around.

He never felt gratitude

that white people had
finally come to the party

and started attending
blues shows and so forth.

It was one afternoon,

and I know Clifford.

Clifford just realized how
much it would mean to Stevie

being a huge Albert fan,

if maybe, maybe he would let
him go up on stage with him.

That night, Albert's up on
stage wailing of course,

and he gets little
Stevie up there with him.

Well, in a very short while,

he realized that Stevie was,

half of Stevie's
playing was in agilation

of his own style.

I've never seen such a big
smile on Albert King's face.

Well, of course,
everybody was thrilled

and especially
thrilled for Stevie.

They went on to be
great friends.

That was a wonderful
moment at Antone's.

With the
Austin blues scene

given a much needed injection
of energy through this venue,

over the next year and a half,

Paul Ray and The Cobras remained

one of the most exciting
local acts on the circuit.

Eclipsed only by Jimmy
Vaughan's new outfit,

The Thunderbirds, who had become

the house band at Antone's
soon after their formation.

Yet, in an attempt to spread
their appeal outside of Austin,

it was The Cobras who first
entered the studio in late 1976

to produce a 7-inch single.

With Paul
Ray and The Cobras,

Stevie got another opportunity

to go into the recording studio.

The band recorded two songs.

Texas Clover, and the
other was Other Days.

The recording was
made, essentially,

as a business card for the band.

They needed to be able

to give a demo or something
to promoters and club owners

to show them what
the band could do,

and so that was
the primary purpose

of having this record.

♪ Other days

♪ I see the sun looking to shine

♪ Other ways

♪ But from my mind

♪ What can I say

♪ Your

♪ Should be so kind

Back then it was
like a calling card.

Back then you gave
them your record.

"Here, here's my record."

On the other day aside,

Stevie just takes off.

There was a space for him
and he just jumped at it

and took off playing that solo.

Stevie played a
nice solo on Other Days.

I'm just not sure that
it was that exciting

a performance over all.

The song on the other side,

it was an interesting song.

Paul Ray had written a
song called Texas Clover,

and it was a nice song.

It was almost kind of country,

the way he originally wrote it,

and we were just
messing around with it,

trying to figure out -

Paul wrote it on
an acoustic guitar,

and we were trying to figure
out what to do with it

and I remember
saying, Stevie saying,

"Let's try it with
a reggae beat".

I remember going,

"Let's do. Good idea."

♪ Getting
down that old highway

♪ When I should be on that

♪ Just do roll

♪ Looking for
something going my way

♪ I'm getting

The covers
single was significant

because it was a single.

It was a local product.

It wasn't like the 60s,

when every band was cutting 45s,

this was a different
kind of environment.

There was no music
business in Ausitn.

There was like, a couple
of recording studios

that were okay.

People weren't making a whole
lot of records out of here.

This was a live
scene, a live town.

Well, they made a single.

To me, it was okay.

It got a little bit
of a local airplay.

The general impression was,

"Yeah, it's good they've
got a record out,"

"but that ain't the band."

If you wan to go
hear The Cobras,

go hear The Cobras live.

As The Cobras, live,

were going from
strength to strength,

their victory in the
Austin Sun reader's poll

in March 1977, in which they
were named Band of the Year,

secured them better pay
and bigger audiences.

For Stevie Vaughan,
their performances

were not only showcasing his
virtuosity as a guitarist,

but over time,

were also allowing him space
to develop as a vocalist.

I think he learned
a lot in The Cobras.

I think it was kind of like
graduate school for him

because I don't think he'd
ever sung with a band.

I don't think he'd
ever fronted a band.

The way I had it set
up, me and Denny,

we wanted it to
be like a review.

It'd be Denny instrumental,
Stevie instrumental,

Rodney were to sing.

Then they'd bring me up

and I'd do the rest of the set.

That's where Stevie
learned to front a band

and do all that.

♪ I said all
you kids from Texas

♪ Grow so big and tall

♪ All you kids from Texas

♪ Grow so big and tall

♪ All of you like to
roam in that g-bird hall

♪ Get high, everybody get high

To me, it was
just kind of obvious

that he had tried
to learn from Doyle.

I mean, he'd played
with Doyle a lot

when Doyle was singing.

Doyle was, we thought
a great singer,

and Stevie could carry a tune,

and it was a manly voice -

I'd be real happy if I
could sing that well.

I thought it was
good, it was good.

Plenty good enough.

♪ Get high, high, high

♪ Way up in the sky

♪ Really want to move and groove

♪ Like you love to do

Stevie sang with authority.

I always thought that
he sang with authority.

From the word go, you know?

By mid 1977,

Vaughan had grown
sufficiently confident

fronting The Cobras

that he decided it
was time to move on.

After years of
weaving in and out

of other people's bands,

he was now ready
to form his own.

He always
was looking ahead,

and trying to figure
out what to do.

He realized, "You
know, I should sing."

"And I should put the
pressure on myself"

"to just do that,
and have a tie band."

I really admired that

and that's actually,
he came to me and said,

"How do I start singing?"

"How do I do this?"

I think he knew he could,

he just sort of needed
some suggestions.

Well, I told him,
"Pick a favorite song."

"Just start with one
song, and do it."

Of course he picked Texas Flood,

which I'd been singing
for a few years

and haven't been
able to sing since.

Since it became his song.

I thought that was the
most practical suggestion.

Pick something you like
and just go for it.

He came up to
me at a rehearsal

and he said, "Well I'm thinking
of getting my own band".

I said, "I think you should,
I mean you're a star."

"You know how to lead a band,"

"and you've got all that
stuff you wanna play,"

"and I think it's a great idea."

I think all of us knew

that at some point he was
gonna have to do that.

Nobody really knew when,

but I think all of
us, I think everybody,

was just kind of waiting for
him to be ready to go out

and be Stevie Ray Vaughan.

We just said, "Go do it".

In forming the band,

which he would call The
Triple Threat Review,

rather than assemble

whichever Austin players
were available at the time,

Vaughan decided to
handpick his ensemble.

He approached
pianist Mike Kindred,

drummer Freddie Walden,
singer Lou Ann Barton,

and Austin blues
legend WC Clark,

and successfully convinced
them all to join him.

That was a pretty
big leap for him.

It was very ballsy for him to go

approach WC Clark
at Ford,

where WC had his day job,

and here was a guy
that was a soul singer,

blues singer, a black
man from east Austin,

that had had success.

He'd seen the world,

and here's this
scrawny little kid,

saying, "I want to start a
band and I want you in it".

Balls, big balls.

It's possible to
characterize Triple Theat Review

as a sort of Texas supergroup.

He'd heard about Lou Ann Barton.

She was a great blues
singer out of Fort Worth

and he knew WC Clark.

WC had been in a band
called Southern Feeling

with Angela Strehli and others.

Stevie brought all of
these elements together

from these other bands
and other parts of Texas

into one cohesive unit.

This unit, Triple
Threat, was heavily inspired

by the review format of
Paul Ray and The Cobras,

in which every member of
the band had their time

in the spotlight.

Although he would be handling
some of the vocals, himself,

Stevie looked to both WC
Clark and Lou Ann Barton

to take the majority
of the lead parts.

When the band debuted
in August 1977,

they immediately made their
mark on the Austin circuit,

in particular,
the sultry Barton.

She was just a
sassy little sex kitten

that could sing.

She was just a force, you know?

You couldn't help but
acknowledge it when you saw her.

We're gonna do
a song now, the blues,

featuring Stevie
Vaughan on slide guitar,

called, "Will My Man
Be Home Tonight?".

One, two, three.

♪ Wonder why

♪ Why my man don't
treat me right

♪ Wonder why

♪ Why my man don't
treat me right ♪

On opening night,
I went to see them,

and I was just
blown away at how,

obviously not rehearsed too much

and just enough to
"You know that song?"

"You know, okay."

"It's in this key and -"

but it knocked me out.

There was three-part
harmony when they needed it

but also everybody got
their shot out front.

It was a great band.

Yet, over
the coming months,

despite their
prestigious lineup,

the band struggled to
make too much of an impact

on a scene dominated
by Jimmy Vaughan's

now-seasoned Fabulous
Thunderbirds,

and the ever-popular Cobras.

They weren't
that successful.

Again, this is like,
on a good night,

can pull in maybe
150, 200 people

to some place like
Austecks or After Hours

or maybe the Continental Club.

Let me put it in this context,

on Monday night,
the Thunderbirds

had the hottest little
weekly residency

at this club by the university
called The Rome Inn.

That was the
biggest thing going.

Sunday nights belonged
to Stevie Ray Vaughan

and Triple Threat Review.

You'd be lucky if you
get 50 people in there.

Not
only were the band

unable to break
into the top tier

of the blues circuit,

but the five strung personalities within the ensemble

were also pulling in
different directions.

In early May, 1978, Triple
Threat Review split up.

Stevie immediately set
about forming a new unit,

Double Trouble, with
he and Lou Ann Barton

now the sole lead vocalists.

By September, they had
settled into a lineup

that included bassist
Jack Newhouse,

saxophonist Johnny Reno, and
young drummer Chris Layton.

It was as the
leader of this unit

that Vaughan began
to truly develop.

Yet he still lacked
the confidence

to front the band on his own.

Stevie and the
band would come out

and do an hour, 30
minutes or an hour.

Lou Ann would come out

and do the last few
songs of the first set.

Then they would feature Lou Ann

pretty much through
a second set.

Then for a third set,

Lou Ann would come out,
do a few more songs.

Then she would sit
down for the evening

and the rest of it
would be Stevie's.

It's all incremental steps

to making Stevie the frontman.

He was inching closer and
closer to being a trio.

Essentially the early
days of Double Trouble,

with Lou Ann, it was
a trio plus Lou Ann.

Yet, for audiences,

Vaughan was now becoming
the main attraction.

Returning to songwriting
for the first time

since the Los Angeles sessions

with Mark Benno
and Doyle Bramhall,

he added new
originals to the sets,

and became the creative
driving force of the group.

In April 1979, a young
booking agent, Joe Priesnitz

was invited to attend a
Double Trouble concert

to see whether he'd
consider signing them

to his newly established
agency, Rock Arts management.

We were trying
to build our roster.

And my partner came
in one day, and said,

"Hey, we're gonna go see
Stevie Vaughan tonight".

I remember like
it was yesterday.

We walked into The Armadillo

and they've just gone onstage
and just started playing

and it was just one
of those moments

where I just went,
"Yeah. That's it."

"He has it."

Not that there was anything
wrong with Lou Ann,

she was certainly a
great part of the band,

and the rhythm section was good.

It was Chris Layton and
Jackie Newhouse at that time.

It just swept over me

that yeah, he's got it.

Priesnitz instantly
signed Double Trouble

and Rock Arts aimed to spread
their appeal beyond Austin.

To aid the promotion
of the band,

in June 1979, with the backing
of local DJ Joe,

Stevie and Double Trouble
traveled to Nashville

to work on sessions with
legendary Sun Studios engineer

Jack Clement.

The resulting recordings
disappointed the band

and went unreleasd.

Yet they remained
the only document

of the short-lived lineup.

These early recordings

are very interesting
because at this stage,

they're kind of a bar band.

It's roadhouse blues.

It's the sort of music

that in your dreams you
would like to imagine

every little bar or roadhouse
you go into in Texas,

there'd be a band in the corner

playing this kind of music.

It's quite instructive

because some of the tracks
in those early recordings

or some of the songs from
those early recordings

turn up in more developed
versions on Texas Flood,

so you can make that comparison

and they're a lot
rawer and earthier.

I think you can still
hear in Stevie Ray Vaughan

that this guy has got
something special.

♪ Well
sittin' here so lonely

♪ Feelin' oh so blue

♪ My baby's tryin'
to mistreat me

♪ And I don't know what to do

♪ So I'm cryin'

♪ Why do I have to feel this way

♪ If I can't love my baby

♪ I can't live another day

We really start to see

the Double Trouble

that is eventually going
to take the world by storm.

Stevie and the band

recorded Pride and Joy,
Lovestruck Baby, Empty Arms,

I'm Cryin'.

These are some songs
that were staples

for Stevie for the
rest of his career.

He already had Chris
Layton in the band

and with the
exception of the fact

that Tommy wasn't in
the band yet on bass

this is Double Trouble.

Lou Ann was still there.

She did about half the songs

but on the other half,

it's all Stevie
and Double Trouble.

♪ Well I don't
have to worry 'bout money

♪ Don't have to
worry 'bout clothes

♪ Don't have to worry 'bout
anything here's my baby

♪ Goodness knows she got

♪ Sugar coated love

♪ Yeah sugar coated love

♪ He's a real gone baby
and I don't mean maybe

♪ He's mine

Lou Ann Barton is a fairly limited vocalist,
I think.

You can hear this
phenomenal guitar player,

and then you can hear this,

well I shouldn't be rude,

average female singer.

I think at this stage,

Stevie Ray Vaughan sees
himself as a great guitarist.

There's no false modesty here.

He knows he's got the
chops, as they say.

Like a lot of guitarists,

he's probably far less confident
about his vocal abilities.

He probably figures
that at this stage,

the band needs a
specialist vocalist,

if we can put it like that.

When, all the time, as
he would shortly prove,

he was more than capable
of doing the job himself.

By the Fall of 1979,

Rock Arts' strategy to
expand Double Trouble's reach

outside of their Texas comfort
zone proved successful.

In November,

they embarked on a
tour of the east coast.

Yet, by the end of these
dates, with little warning,

Lou Ann Barton quit the band.

With shows already booked
throughout Texas in December,

a decision had to
be quickly made

about how the band would cope

with the loss of
its main vocalist.

We got the call

and I think it came from Stevie

that Lou Ann left the band.

The band came back.

We had a meeting.

Because we just
wanted to figure,

"So should we get
another singer?"

"What's the plan here?
Should we cancel the dates?"

Which nobody wanted to do.

We were talking about
different ideas,

and finally I just said,
"So who's gonna sing?"

Stevie looked at me
with this dead glare

and said, "I am".

He didn't finish the sentence,

but I know what he
was thinking.

He was going to
call me an expletive

but he didn't.

He held off, he
just said, "I am".

I said, "Okay. We'll
see you at Steam Boat."

I think it was within
three nights of that.

Now a trio,

the loss of Lou Ann in
fact strengthened the band.

Stevie discovering

he finally had the
confidence and ability

to become a full time frontman.

In 1980, they resumed touring

across Texas and the east coast.

On occasion,
performing alongside

Jimmy Vaughan's
Fabulous Thunderbirds,

who by now had
secured a record deal.

As the world moved
into a new decade,

there was also growing support
for Vaughan and his band

from a number of
interested parties

looking to advance his career.

Stevie had met
accountant Eddie Johnson

back in 1978.

This led to a chain of events

that would by 1980, see
his day-to-day management

taken over by a pivotal
figure, Chesley Millikin.

Eddie Johnson
saw Stevie perform

in Austin, in the fall of 1978.

Stevie was just in a band.

They didn't have
a team behind him

to help promote or publicize
the band, or an agent.

They had nothing

as a support.

Eddie approached her
employer, Frances Carr,

at Manor Downs, in Austin,

and said, "Look, this guy
deserves to have a team"

"behind him to back him"

"and to help make the
band successful enough"

"that they can survive".

Frances was a woman
of considerable wealth

coming from a really storied
Texas ranching family,

the O'Connors, which
is one of the first

ranching families in Texas

going back to the 1840s.

She had been road manager
for the Grateful Dead.

She ran with a lot of folks,

and that was where she
met Chesley Millikin,

who'd been a player in the
Ash Grove folk club in LA,

but was a British gentleman

who was the head of
Epic UK at one time,

Chesley was critical
to the band's success

from that point, into
expanding into larger markets.

Partly because Chesley
hired Charles Comer

as a publicist.

Stevie now really had a
full team behind the band

with financial backing,
accounting, publicity,

and day-to-date management.

Millikin
initially attempted

to expand the group.

Yet after numerous
unsuccessful auditions

with assorted instrumentalists
and female vocalists,

he then looked to
strengthen the appeal

of the existing trio.

The band leader himself
took on his full name,

Stevie Ray Vaughan,
and his rhythm section

would now be identified
through the group name,

and Double Trouble.

They would no longer be
billed, or even promote

themselves as a blues act,

thus distancing them from
a specialist marketplace.

Yet over the coming months,

despite several record companies

expressing interest in the band,

a contract failed
to materialize.

I became kind of the
de facto rep for the band

because people would
fly in to see him,

certain record company people,

and they would ask me,

so and so's flying in from MCA,

and can you kind of show up

and meet him at the venue

and do the whole
thing, which I would.

I can't tell you how many times.

Dozens of these people
would watch him play

and then at the end
of the night just say,

"Well there are
great blues band".

I would just be dumbfounded.

"What do you mean it's
just a great blues band?"

"Can't you see this guy?"

"He's one of the
most phenomenal players"

that's ever gotten onstage".

To me it was down the road

certainly going to
happen at some point.

Somebody was going to
recognize his talent

at some time.

It didn't matter what
kind of music he liked.

If he saw this guy play,

it was my belief, that
he would like him.

Yet no
major label offerers

were forthcoming.

Even prominent figures

within the record
companies themselves

struggled to secure any interest

in Vaughan and his band.

A lot of people are
telling me about Stevie Ray,

so I was aware of his playing

and I saw him play
a couple times

and saw the excitement
that people had around him.

I got some tapes from
a friend of mine,

and I actually sent
those to New York,

and I sent them to the
head of A&R at that time

in New York.

I recieved a letter
back, with the tapes,

saying, "We're not
really interested"

"in signing a blues
artist like this."

"Or we would sign a B.B.
King or something like that."

Which I should have kept
the letter and the tapes,

but I didn't.

I saw there was no
interest in him,

and so unfortunately,

I dropped the cause
and didn't do anything.

With record
companies failing to commit,

in January 1981, the band
made a final crucial change

to its lineup.

Bassist Jackie Newhouse

was replaced by the player

who had previously made his name

with Johnny Winter,
back in the late 60s,

Stevie's brief Blackbird
bandmate, Tommy Shannon.

The band had
been coming together,

Double Trouble, for a while.

It was finally waking
up to this trio concept.

One of his heroes, Jimi Hendrix,

that's how he was
performed at his best,

and can really play.

I think that made sense.

Also, this predecessor,

the one guy that really made
a noise doing Texas blues

and doing it to a rock
audience was Johnny Winter.

I don't look at it as

Stevie was going
hunting for a name,

but he knew Tommy's work,

and he knew the context
that he worked in,

which in the power
trio thing was perfect.

I recall when it went down,

I thought it was kind of sudden.

Then I saw Tommy play

one of his first
nights with Stevie,

and it was like,
"Okay, I got it".

"This is the combo. This
is the combination."

Yet even
with a tight band

and an experienced
team behind him,

still Stevie struggled
to secure a record deal.

After a year of heavy touring,

in 1982, Chesley Millikin
passed a video tape

of the trio to Mick Jagger,

and then arranged a
private performance

for the Rolling Stones
at New York's Danceteria.

Amidst rumors in the
national music press

that Jagger was going to
sign Vaughan to his label,

after the show,
he was impressed,

yet unconvinced of the commercial prospects of the band,

and nothing materialized.

Yet a more ironic and
coincidental turn of events

would work in Stevie's favor.

Back in Austin,

producer and Warner Brothers
executive Jerry Wexler

had arrived in town
to support the release

of Lou Ann Barton's debut album.

At the launch party,

witnessed a Vaughan and
Double Trouble performance.

Blown away by the show,

Wexler called Claude Nobs,

the founder and organizer of
the Montreux Jazz Festival

in Switzerland,

urging him to book the band

for his summer event.

Nobs duely obliged,

and the subsequent performance
would single-handedly

alter the course of
the band's career.

Yet Vaughan's
flamboyant Texas blues

was far from
universally appreciated

when they stepped onto the
stage on July the 17th, 1982.

We didn't have a record.

It wasn't like we had
product to go with

and so it was our
first unsigned act

to play the festival.

We were just going over
their and do a gig.

We were booked on
a night in Montreux

where it was predominantly
acoustic music.

Where there was somebody
sitting with a guitar,

acoustic guitar, upright bass.

No drums.

Or maybe there was,
but it was kind of

a brush use situation
that kind of thing.

It was a very quiet night.

So let's welcome

with Chris Layton on
drums, Chris Layton.

Tommy Shannon on
bass, Tommy Shannon.

Stevie Ray Vaughan,
Stevie Ray Vaughan!

When Stevie Ray Vaughan
appeared at Montreux in 1982,

it had a shocking effect
upon the audience.

People were expecting
acoustic blues.

They got this heavy duty
electric blues sound.

In the recordings of this
that have been since released,

you hear the boos
and the cat calls

and people just wanting
him to get off stage

but then on the other hand
it also had great appeal.

I wasn't at Montreux,
I'm not in the audience,

but I got the sense it
was a fairly purist crowd,

kind of like at Antone's.

The crowd that believed The
Thunderbirds were really it

because they did it just
like the old guys did it.

Here comes this brash band

that's a little louder and
playing kind of rocked up.

Even if it is Freddy King

and he's quoting a guy from
his hometown in Dallas,

and he's playing it flawlessly,

maybe it's too loud.

At the end, you hear,

it's a mixed reaction.

It's like, the crowd,
there's some cheers.

There's some boos

and the boos are audible

because everybody's
not going nuts.

Thank you so much.

But Montreux
signified the arrival

of Stevie Ray Vaughan
and Double Trouble

and the revival of
American blues music.

There was a lot preceding it.

There was a lot going on.

This just busted it through,

and it made it accessible

in a way that it hadn't
been made accessible

in the United States, I
think, since Led Zeppelin

and The Yardbirds and the
British Invasion bands

were doing blues.

♪ Well it's
flooding down in Texas

♪ All of the telephone
lines are down

♪ Yeah it's flooding
down in Texas

♪ All of the telephone
lines are down ♪

There'd been this lapse

and when it was least expected,

and certainly not
expected from this kid,

he did it.

By wisely infusing all the
things that he learned,

so he rocks it up.

Yes, there's a lot
of Hendrix in it,

and it's the first
guy since Hendrix

that sounds like Hendrix
without imitating Hendrix.

♪ Well I'm
leaving you baby ♪

Stevie was
off of Hendrix

and the blues he grew up with

the Jump Blues,

and look at it this way,

he was carrying on just as
what Johnny Winter had done

and what ZZ Top had done.

He was carrying on that
power trio tradition.

It was like straight
out of Cream.

You had to take them on
that kind of a basis.

They needed to be regarded,

"Are they better than Cream?"

Those are fighting words, man.

"Is this guy going
to do Clapton?"

Well, maybe, maybe even better.

Montreux was the throwdown.

Here we are.

It became very clear

with the recordings
that followed it

that Stevie brought
respect back to blues.

He brought recognition
back to blues.

By making it a completely
unique, original,

and modern sound again.

In the
audience for the show,

where David Bowie and
John Paul Hammond,

the son of legendary
producer John Hammond,

and both were
astonished by Vaughan

and Double Trouble's
performance.

The following night,

the band played an impromptu gig

in the more private setting

of The Artist Bar
at the festival.

And here they were
joined onstage

by singer songwriter
Jackson Brown,

who was equally impressed
by the Texan ensemble.

The atmosphere
of the club was really,

it was like a blues club.

It was smoky, after
hours, small, you know.

I was playing Montreux and
I didn't know anything,

actually I'd heard about
Stevie from his manager,

from Chesley Millikin, who was
a really old friend of mine.

I didn't see the show

and I really only
heard about it.

Actually I was being interviewed

guys from my band came
up to where I was sitting

in this restaurant,

really excited, and said,
"You have to come down here."

"Excuse us, but
whatever you're doing,"

"you've gotta stop
and come see this".

The opportunities
that these fresh connections

subsequently presented
to Stevie and his band,

were invaluable.

While Bowie proposed

that Vaughan play a role
on his forthcoming album,

and Hammond enthusiastically
passed recordings

onto his influential father,

Brown offered recording
time to the band

at his LA studio.

In November 1982, still yet
to secure a record deal,

Stevie Ray Vaughan
and Double Trouble

headed to the west coast,

and sessions began
on the material

that would eventually
become their debut album,

Texas Flood.

We thought, "Why
don't we take Jackson"

"up on that offer, and
let's go to Los Angeles".

Which, we couldn't
really even afford

to just go there and go do that,

even if that part
of it was for free,

so we booked a small tour.

And he showed up

and there was a voice
on the end of the phone

saying, "Well, we're here",

and I said, "Hello, who's this?"

He said it was them,

and they were here and that
they were ready to record.

I went, "Well, you know its -"

"Okay, wait a second."

"Who wants to record this guy?"

Because it was about to
be Thanksgiving holiday

and everybody was
planning on leaving

and stop recording.

In that respect, it was
really great timing.

The guy that stepped
into the spot

was James Gess, who was
the second engineer.

A very capable engineer,

and who I later recorded
a couple records with.

We went
in, set up and did

played through our show a
couple of times each day,

is what it amounted to.

It wasn't a recording
studio with other people

and other musicians
coming in and out

it was just this sort of
funky downtown location.

They had a week to
do whatever they do

when they were at home or when -

1983 was the year

in which Stevie Ray Vaughan
and Double Trouble's

fortunes changed.

Not only did the band

have professional recordings
completed for the first time,

they also had a team behind them

trying to build on the momentum

created by the Montreux shows.

In January, Stevie
traveled to New York

to begin a week of sessions

for David Bowie's latest
album, Let's Dance.

The following month

in an attempt to expand
the band's presence

on the live circuit,

Chesley Millikin decided
to drop Joe Priesnitz'

Austin-based Rock Arts

and approached Alex Hodges,

a booking agent who
had been pivotal

in breaking the
Allman Brothers Band

and other southern rock
acts across America.

I got a call,

"Alex, you gotta
come see this guy."

"You gotta come see
Stevie Ray Vaughan".

It so happened I'd
heard his name before,

but I'd never seen him and
hadn't heard any product.

Turns out there
was no album out.

He had not been
picked up by a label,

and time was moving on

but Chesley really
believed in him

and said, "Come see
Stevie Ray Vaughan"

"and Double Trouble".

I agreed, I sent a guy

instead of going
to Texas myself.

My friend, an
employee, a youngster,

came back and said,

"We just gotta sign this guy."

"This is your cup of tea, Alex."

I said, "Okay, so
what's the criteria?"

Chesley had given a mandate

that Stevie was working clubs.

Chesley Millikin
had given a mandate

of no gig under $1000.

Hodges immediately

booked Vaughan
and Double Trouble

to support Greg Allman
at a show in Atlanta.

Shortly thereafter,

the guitarist who had
been trying his trade

in Austin for over a decade,

would finally transcend
theTexas club circuit.

On March 15th, 1983,

through John
Hammond's influence,

the band signed a record
deal with Epic Records,

a subsidiary of CBS.

Two days later,

the title track from David
Bowie's forthcoming album

was released.

Let's Dance became the
fastest selling single

in the artist's 20
year recording career,

and his first US number one.

The album, issued in the April,

was equally successful, and
provided a perfect platform

to introduce Stevie Ray
Vaughan to a global audience.

♪ Let's dance

♪ Put on your red shoes
and dance the blues

♪ Let's dance

♪ To the sound their
playing on the radio

♪ Let's dance

The Bowie connection
was a mantle of significance

to this new, at that time,
unknown guitar player.

Mick Ronson, Earl
Slick, Carl,

later Reeve,

We better pay attention,
this guy knows talent.

With saxophone, Bowie had
discovered David Sandborn.

These are some of
my favorite players,

that David Bowie had introduced.

He seemed to have a
very keen ear and eye

for taking unknown talent

but integrating it into
his music brilliantly.

♪ Let's dance

It's a disco song,

and it's a number
one dance single.

There's a break in
there where you hear

Texas blues.

There's a genuineness that I
don't pick up in Mick Ronson.

Mick Ronson, great technician,

figured out a lot
of different styles

and plays them all very well.

This is the Texas difference,

and this is where
when you get the blues

it's the old line,

"You can't live in Texas"

"if you don't have
a lot of soul".

I can't qualify that soul.

It's just either you
got it or you don't.

You listen to Let's Dance

and that little guitar track

in the middle, on the
break - that's soul.

Not only had
Vaughan made an impact

with his appearance
on the record,

by late April, he was
also beginning rehearsals

with Bowie's band
for the singer's

Serious Moonlight world tour.

With an offer for the
guitarist in Double Trouble

to also open certain shows,

this appeared the
perfect vehicle

to expose them to
a global audience.

Yet there were conflicts,

with Epic also wishing
to release the recordings

made at Jackson Brown's
studio the previous November

as a debut album.

Jack Chase,

who was overseeing the
marketing of this proposed LP

across the southwest for Epic,

was among a number of skeptics,

who believed that the Bowie tour

might in fact prove detrimental
to Vaughan's career.

If we didn't break them,

the rest of the
country at that point

was going to say,

If you can't get him
broken out of Texas,

why should we play them in New
York or Seattle or whatever?

Jesse came over and we
talked about it and so on.

He asked me what I thought
and what I could do.

I told him, "On a new
artist like this,"

"it really takes us working
together with the group,"

and so on, and that my feeling
was him playing with David

was going to get him
seen by a lot of people,

but what was it going
to do with his career,

as far as working
this new album?

I told him, "When you release
a new artist in the fall,"

"a new artist."

"You're not going to get
anything done with him"

"because all the superstars
come out with their artists,"

"and you release a new artist
like Stevie Ray Vaughan."

"He's going to be put way
in the back of the store,"

"and you're going to lose
focus on that artist."

He seemed to understand
what I was saying,

and he said, "Let
me call you back,"

"and we'll talk to Stevie".

He came back about three hours

and said, "Stevie's
off the tour".

It was a key moment

in the young artist's career.

Immediately following
the announcement,

the music press began
to ask questions

about this young Texan upstart

who had walked out on Bowie.

Yet, what appeared
to be career suicide,

instead gave Vaughan an unprecedented amount of publicity,

only a month before the
issuing of his debut album.

Seizing on this
unexpected good fortune,

Stevie and the band went to work

promoting their
forthcoming release.

He worked
every radio station,

every club he wanted to work,

every end store.

I'll say this about Stevie,

it was always true from
then until the end.

Stevie was an artist
that never said no.

He did every end store
you wanted him to do,

no matter what his
physical condition was.

He would do everything.

He'd sign every autograph.

He would do everything
you wanted him to do,

and that made a big deal for us.

Tommy and Chris were the same,

they would do everything for us,

so that made a big difference.

With over a decade

as a professional
musician behind him,

in June 1983, Stevie Ray Vaughan

finally saw his work
released to the public.

Although it divided
critics at the time,

Texas Flood would
become a landmark

in popular music.

The album that
revitalized a genre

written off as irrelevant,

and introduced the world

to one of the greatest
guitarists of all time.

Texas Flood is one
of the great debut albums.

I think one thing
we have to remember,

is that by the time he
comes to record this,

Stevie Ray Vaughan
is 29 years old.

There's a maturity
there already.

He's comfortable in his skin.

He's taken all of
his influences,

and he wears them on his
sleeve pretty openly.

He's learned what
to do with them,

and how to blend them
into his own sound.

I sometimes think,
listening to Texas Flood,

that nobody should be allowed

to make their debut album
until they're nearly 30.

Because there's
a strength there,

it's fully formed,
it's fully developed.

♪ Well I'm a love
struck baby, I must confess

♪ Life without you
darlin' is a solid mess

♪ Thinkin' bout you baby
gives me such a thrill

♪ I gotta have you
baby, can't get my fill

♪ I love you baby and
I know just what to do

♪ I still remember
and let it be said

♪ The way you make me
feel take a fool to forget

♪ I swore a ton of bricks
had hit me in the head

♪ And what you do little
baby ain't over it yet ♪

I first heard Stevie
Ray Vaughan in April 1983.

It was on a cassette,
it was a promotional.

I was in my '66
LeMans, Pontiac LeMans

and I drove from
the radio station

over to get a hamburger,

and I popped this thing in,

and Pride and Joy was the
second song on side one

and I thought, "This
is really good".

The thing is, it didn't
sound like anything else

in America at the time.

♪ Yeah I love my
baby, my heart and soul

♪ Love like ours
won't never grow old

♪ She's my sweet little thing

♪ She's my pride and joy

♪ She's my sweet little baby,
I'm her little lover boy

♪ Yeah I love my baby,
she's long and lean

♪ You mess with her, you'll
see a man gettin' mean

♪ She's my sweet little thing

Let's be honest, okay?

It was Men at Work
and Duran Duran

and The New Romantics, okay?

Boy George and Culture Club.

I mean, these people were
at the top of the charts.

Even if you go rock,
you've got Rush and ACDC.

Selling gazillions of records.

Police, Synchronicity
was that year.

Believe me, I can
rattle off to you

the big albums that
came out in 1983.

Blockbuster, multi-million
sellers, okay?

It's like a tugboat among
all these big battleships.

The tugboat was Stevie Ray
Vaughan and Double Trouble

was this Texas Flood album.

This was the only
flavor like that.

I was the program director
and the music director.

I went back to my station
in Memphis, Rock 103.

We added Pride and Joy what's
called "out of the box",

meaning the first
week it's available

to play on the
radio, we added it.

I've always been foolish

for songs like Love Struck
Baby and Pride and Joy.

He synthesized,
learned all the stuff,

and then spat it back
out, and that's his.

It's not someone else's song.

Texas Flood the album
announces to the world,

"Hey folks, Texas
blues is back."

"It's dominant, it's
better than ever".

Yet, Lenny, this is
Stevie Ray Vaughan

the complete musician.

Lenny's like a whole other side

and that's the first hint, this
guy isn't just a blues man.

He isn't just a power
trio band leader.

He is truly a great guitarist.

And instrumentalist
of his own right.

That's transcending
whatever kind of categories

you want to stuff him into,

so that album, wow.

Following
the album's release,

the band immediately
hit the road,

playing shows across
the US and Canada,

as well as the Redding
Festival in the UK

and a subsequent European tour.

Yet, to reach larger audiences,

Vaughan was still going
to have to open shows

for more popular artists.

With a sound that was
so conspicuously absent

from the modern marketplace,

looking for the right
supporting slots

in which to fit the
band proved difficult.

Although they were
placed on bills

opening for
contemporary artists,

Alex Hodges also considered

booking them to support
older classic rock acts.

This led to their first arena
tour with the Moody Blues.

We debated that.

My own staff said,
"Don't do that."

"It's too old of an audience."

I thought that this audience

would appreciate
Stevie's music, A.

B, Stevie would be geared
to just blow them away.

And, also that he would
be on a big stage.

It was an arena tour

when we accepted the opportunity
to go out with Moody Blues.

We did it, and that worked.

We bridged the gap between

a little bit
younger audience who

was finding him in the clubs

they're going to
listen to his records,

and take an advantage to
some of that style of music

that was out there and that
had been so successful.

Shortly
after the closing show

of The Moody Blues
tour in December 1983,

Vaughan headed to
Ontario, Canada,

to be reunited with
Blues legend Albert King.

The performance filmed
for the In Session tv show

saw a guitarist who had
suddenly been propelled

to international fame,
return to the music

that had taken him there,

alongside his
greatest inspiration.

With Texas Flood,
Stevie Ray Vaughan

demonstrated his
mastery of the guitar.

When he recorded
with Albert King,

he showed his
ability to lay back.

♪ Born under a bad sign

♪ I been down since
I begin to crawl

♪ If it wasn't for bad luck,

♪ I wouldn't have no luck at all

♪ Hard luck and trouble
is my only friend

♪ I been on my own
ever since I was ten

♪ Born under a bad sign

♪ I been down since
I begin to crawl

It's very impressive, the
extent to which Stevie

was able to feed and
nurture young musicians.

Young musicians

often want to blow
the music away

and he held back.

It was reverential in a way.

A great amount of respect.

That was the best
validation of all,

because that was the bad ass

who would never give
anyone any quarter,

acknowledging "This is my guy."

"This guy does it, he
does it like I do it."

"He may even do it better"

"but I respect the
hell out of him."

Getting respect from Albert King

does not - you can't buy that.

Very few players
could play Albert King

and do it well, and
do it authentically,

and get Albert King
to even acknowledge,

"Hey, they can do
me pretty good".

Stevie was that one guy,

and to me, that's
when you realize,

this is not a local thing.

This is not a fluke.

This got nothing to
do with management,

or talent scouts,
or record labels.

This is a musican
getting respect

from the musician
he respected most.

Having both
reinvigorated Texas blues

and firmly established
himself internationally,

over the following years,

Vaughan would blaze
a distinctive trail

through the contemporary
music world.

Stevie loved
to come to Antone's

and just walk up
there with his buddies

and play some blues.

I don't think he liked
anything better than that

but when it came time
for him to write songs

or make record, I don't think

he wanted to be limited
to just playing blues.

Stevie became a rock star.

When I say rock, that means,

you can be a blues man,

but rock star is
something much bigger,

and more all-encompassing.

People were hearing him

in a different context
then matched up

with Albert King or Larry Davis.

It's a new period
of exploration.

You don't know where he's
really going to go with it

but he's definitely
out of his comfort zone

and taking more risks.

Yet these risks,

included seriously
jeopardizing his health.

As his popularity soared,

Vaughan's lifestyle of excess

would spiral out of control.

The end of the final
decade of his life,

was however remarkable,

not only for his
successful rehabilitation,

but for the renewed
passion he brought

to his music.

The schedule
is so hectic,

and so supported in that way,

because you just keep going,

because there's money
to be made, right?

The human element and
suffering gets taken out.

He's getting frail,
he's trying to keep up.

He knows there's issues
he's trying to deal with

and this isn't the way
to be dealing with them.

It was a new beginning.

It was like, "Okay,
this is my bottom."

"I don't have many
choices here."

"It's either I die,
I end up in jail,"

"or I get better."

He was concerned

about, would he have
the fire in his plan

that he had before.

He just didn't know,

because he'd never gone
through rehab before.

It turned out to be
a groundless worry.

All he had to do was
look into the In Step album.

The sound was unbelievable.

What happens is, over time,

you don't realize how
sloppy somebody gets

when they're in the
throes of substance abuse.

It all came together.

It all became in focus.

This really healthy
Stevie Ray Vaughan

playing just outside of himself

and singing like he'd
never sung before.

To me, what's important

about the life and
music and legacy

of Stevie Ray Vaughan

is that he confronted
his demons,

and he won.