Interview: Coco Montoya, blues-rock guitar master, vocalist

By Kevin Porter

The world-renowned guitarist and vocalist, Coco Montoya, is known for his searing, contemporary blues-rock, melodic guitar playing and passionate vocals. He earned his status of master guitarist and soul-powered vocalist through years of playing with Albert Collins and then with John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers. Since launching his solo career in 1993, Montoya has released eight solo albums, three with Alligator Records and returned to the label with his new record, Hard Truth.

KP: Congratulations on your most recent album, Hard Truth. How did the album come about?

CM: Re-signing with Alligator Records and working with Bruce Iglauer (founder and CEO of Alligator) again—it’s an incredible label. Also working with Tony Braunagel; we’ve been good friends for many years. I first met Tony when he was playing with Bonnie Raitt back in the day. He started producing and we batted around the idea of him producing me, and the opportunity came up for him to do that. Everything just kind of lined up, and it worked out really well.

KP: You mentioned Tony, but there are some other people on this record that are well known, like Mike Finnigan on keyboards, Johnny Schell on guitar, and Bob Glaub on bass.

CM: That’s the brilliance of the whole thing. Mike Finnigan played on my first record, Got a Mind to Travel, way back in the day on Blind Pig records. That’s when I first met him, and we’ve been friends ever since. I went to high school with Bob Glaub. The incredible thing is we’re all good friends, and we were just hanging out and playing music. It was easy to be comfortable.

KP: Do you usually have an all-star band like this when you’re recording an album?

CM: I have a band I tour with, and on occasion, they’ve been involved with my recordings, but usually when I go into a studio, it’s done with a producer who’s familiar with all the musicians and is comfortable working with them. I’ve been very lucky over the years in that some great players have been on my albums. The last record I did for Ruff Records, I had Stephen Ferrone on drums and Reggie McBride on bass and Jeff Paris on keyboards. It’s wonderful to experience different musicians all the time and bring different people into the mix.

KP: I think there are nine covers on Hard Truth, and I understand you were considering 125 songs or so. How do you choose which songs to do and then how do you put your own stamp on it?

CM: That’s the hardest, going through the process of getting songs. I try to write as much as possible, and I have some great co-writers like Dave Steen. The reality is that I’m probably not as consistent as many others who can write songs so easily. It’s a labor for me, but I continue to write and will always do that. I look for songs from other writers that I feel I can do justice to and use my imagination as to how I can make the song my own.

KP: One song you did on the album that I have loved for a long time is Ronnie Earl’s “I Wanna Shout About It.” How did it come about that you did this song?

CM: I think either Tony or Bruce submitted that one. Darrell Nulisch is the singer on that one—great, great singer. I liked it and decided to do it. Tony, Bruce and I review all the songs to narrow it down to 10 choices. It’s hard to do and there are still songs that I would like to do that we decided not to for this record. Once you’re done, then things start to happen, and it gets exciting.

KP: What did you do to make “I Wanna Shout About It” yours?

CM: Letting go is the hardest part—listening to it and not being 100 percent influenced by it. You try to get your own little groove, your own little feel to it. It’s a shuffle, and there’s not much you’re going to do to change that. We might have pulled the tempo back just a hair. The story in that song is the best part. It’s not about a guy who’s been done wrong, life is terrible, and I’m halfway through a bottle of Jack Daniels. This guy is celebrating—he met a girl he loves and she backs him on everything. That’s the magic of the song, and the key is to keep that emotion in the playing.

KP: Lee Roy Parnell makes a guest appearance on “Lost in the Bottle.” How did that come about?

CM: I was a big fan of Lee Roy, and I knew someone who knew him and asked him how approachable Lee Roy is. My friend said Lee Roy knows who you are and would probably love to do something with you. My friend gave me Lee Roy’s phone number and urged me to call him.

One day I got brave and gave him a phone call and left him a message saying I’ll be in Memphis and could he play on this song. An hour later, I got a message from Lee Roy saying he can’t believe I asked him to do this, and he’ll be there, and that’s when our friendship started. We had a wonderful day in Memphis with Lee Roy—he played rhythm on that song and sang back-up on another song. When Dave Steen came up with “Lost in the Bottle,” I needed a slide guitar player, and I love how Lee Roy hears and plays things—so melodic. He said, no problem, and he once again did an incredible job.

KP: Our readers love your live shows. What’s your secret?

CM: I don’t have a real answer for that—I just play. I imagine it comes from my time with Albert Collins, to be real about your playing and accept all the blemishes and just enjoy yourself. If you’re having a good time, people get it. I don’t try to overthink my shows, and Lord knows, I’m not doing any moonwalks or setting off fireworks, or anything like that. It’s just music, and I’m ok with that. I’m ok with the audience I have—I’m very blessed. I don’t think I have in me the ability to figure out what tricks and gimmicks will make me larger than life. I just let the music stand for itself. The people that come to see me want to hear the music, and that’s good enough for me.

KP: That sounds easier than it really is.

CM: In one way, it is and in one way, it isn’t. People don’t think about how when you go out on stage, you’re putting yourself out there to be rejected. Audiences can be pretty rough at times, but it’s understandable. You have to bring it. It’s an amazing place to go to knowing you could be rejected, but when you’re not, there’s no greater feeling in the world. That’s just the magic of going out there and being real about what you’re doing and not being pretentious or overthinking. For me, it’s best if it comes from the heart, not the head.

KP: You mentioned Albert Collins. I love your back story—you played drums with Albert and guitar with John Mayall. How did that all start?

CM: Both of those were just opportunities that came my way. It was just by chance or by fate. Albert Collins was playing a matinee in a small club in Culver City that I played every weekend for several years. My drum kit used to just sit there, sometimes all week because no one else was playing and I didn’t have to take it home. The club owner was so excited that Albert was going to play the Sunday matinee, and at this point, I had never really heard of Albert Collins. I got into an argument with the club owner when I went to pick up my drums and found out they’re going to use my drums. Albert was very nice about it and said I’ll go get another drum kit for my drummer to use, but I said no, it’s all set up and to go ahead and use them. Albert took my phone number. I didn’t think any more about that until I got a phone call several months later. It’s Albert, and he needs a drummer. At that point, I wasn’t a blues drummer at all, but he was desperate. We left about three or four hours later for Eugene, Oregon—no rehearsal, nothing. Cold turkey. I stayed only because of Albert—he said he would teach me how to play blues music and he did.

That was all by chance, and it was the same thing with John Mayall. He heard me at a jam session on Sunset Strip in Los Angeles. It was a unique mix of megastars and nobodies playing together. I played once or twice with Phil Collins on drums, and Eric Burdon came up and sang “Lawdy Miss Clawdy.” Played with members of Little Feat, and also played with Mitch Mitchell (drummer for Jimi Hendrix). John came in, and he was celebrating his birthday. I did a bastardized version of “All Your Love.” He came by and said that was nice, and that was it. Around late 1983 or early 1984, John called me and said he was reforming the Bluesbreakers.

John Mayall got me back into the music business as a guitar player. I was out of the music business altogether for four or five years. I just quit playing. I figured I reached as far as I was going to get as a drummer. I didn’t have any technical knowledge, and I wasn’t going to cut it. I had a day job, and it was quite nice having a regular paycheck. I was bartending when John called me. I didn’t believe it was him—I figured it was some roadies or other guys I knew playing with me, and I pretty much hung up. He called back and said did you think about my offer? It really dawned on me that this is John Mayall. I asked for a couple of days to think about it because working in music wasn’t really profitable, and I didn’t have that much confidence in my playing to be a Bluesbreaker. That was hard. That was scary. I hold all the previous guitar players in the Bluesbreakers on a pedestal, especially Eric Clapton because he was why I wanted to play lead guitar in any kind of way. I decided to give it a go, figuring if I was a Bluesbreaker for a month, then I was a Bluesbreaker for a month. I ended up staying for 10 years.

KP: What did you learn from playing with Albert Collins and John Mayall?

CM: Two different schools of music, two different ways of proceeding in the music business, both coming from two different places. With Albert, we both didn’t have a formal music education, and I think that’s why we became so close. He was like a dad to me. He knew street life, and he watched over me, just like a dad. He told me you don’t have to be the best and to get that out of my head—you just have to hold your own. That’s perfect for me because I never strive to be better than anyone else. He told me play what you feel and don’t think about it. Don’t overanalyze it, just play.

Playing with John Mayall was a confidence builder but in a different way. John knew what he was doing and where he was going. He was unbelievably organized. He was always on time. He would tell us to go have our fun at night but meet in the hotel lobby at 10 minutes before 9:00 so we can leave right at the top of the hour.

The curse of musicians is it’s either feast or famine. We were working so hard on the road in Europe, working probably six days a week, and on the seventh day, you were driving or on the bus. A couple of us asked John for a couple days off. He said I didn’t bring you out here on vacation, I brought you here to make money. When I get done paying you, you can stay or fly back and have a vacation. We’re out here to work, to make a living. With John, I learned perseverance, try to be organized, be on your job. That’s what I learned from John. And if he made a mistake while playing, it would roll off his back. If it happened to me, I would be cringing.

KP: What’s next for you? I know you’re going to India.

CM: Yeah, we’re going to Mumbai. I’ve never been there—Walter Trout tells me it’s a great gig. John will be playing that festival, too, and I think we’re going to get together. I haven’t seen John in seven or eight years. For the rest of February, I’m going to do some writing. I’m going out to Lincoln, Nebraska, to do some writing with Dave Steen. I have some people in L.A. I might get together and write with. We’ll start a Northwest tour in March, and after that, continue to get things ready for another album.

KP: Thank you for taking the time to talk to us.

CM: Thank you.

 

For more information on Coco Montoya:

Website: https://www.cocomontoyaband.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CocoMontoyaBand