Coco Montoya - Biography
By Paul Andersen
Destiny can be a funny thing. For some people, it can be as clear as a cloudless sunlit sky, while for others it may be so subtle as to remain invisible. Sometimes destiny comes in a single life-altering instant, or it may appear like a series of seemingly unrelated signposts dispatched at random, yet important, moments along the highway of life. But regardless how it arrives, destiny can only be achieved if a person has the instinct and strength to recognize and follow its path.
Coco Montoya may well have known from an early age that music would be a large part of his life, but it would take three chance encounters with three different blues musicians for him to realize where his destiny lay. It has enabled him to become one of the most acclaimed bluesmen of his generation.
Born Henry Montoya in Santa Monica, California in 1951 into a working class family, he was quickly drawn to the music he found in his parents’ diverse record collection. Rock, big band jazz, salsa and doo-wop all whetted his appetite, and he was soon picking out melodies on guitar before gravitating to the drums. Years of lessons and practice followed, and like many teenagers of the ‘60s, Montoya was soon playing drums in a series of local rock bands.
In 1969, however, the young drummer got his first taste of destiny when he attended a Creedence Clearwater Revival/Iron Butterfly concert at the Forum in Inglewood. Opening the show was blues guitar great Albert King, and his set left Montoya transformed. Emotionally drained yet spiritually uplifted by King’s music, Montoya connected immediately to the blues. His future path, though not instantaneous, was forever altered that night.
Montoya continued playing drums in several local rock bands, and by the mid-‘70s he had gotten on-the-road experience through the occasional regional tour. One of those bands played weekends at a small club in Culver City, and Montoya would often pick up his gear the following day. One Sunday, bluesman Albert Collins was scheduled to play a matinee there, and the club owner gave Collins permission to use Montoya’s drums. When Montoya got down there to pick up his equipment, he found it had been used by someone else, which left him a bit upset with the club owner. But after talking to Collins by phone, Montoya ended up staying around for Collins’s next show, and even sat in on his own drums. Once again, Montoya found an immediate connection to the music.
A few months later Montoya received a call out of the blue; it was Collins, desperately in need of a drummer for a Northwest tour. Montoya said yes, and three hours later the guitarist picked him up. He would spend the next five years playing drums with Collins’ band. But importantly for Montoya, it was the beginning of his education in the blues as taught by the guitarist nicknamed the Iceman. The two musicians became quite close (Collins referred to Montoya as his ‘son’) and it wasn’t long before Montoya once again picked up the guitar, and countless hotel hours were spent with Collins mentoring his young student, ingraining in him the mantra, “Don’t think about it, just play it.”
Eventually, with disco having taken over the music scene, blues gigs got scarce, and Montoya left Collins’ band, though the two remained close. He got a job as a bartender, and played guitar on the side at numerous jam sessions. Once again, another life-altering chance encounter was about to take place.
One night in an LA bar, Montoya was jamming with the house band when he noticed that John Mayall had walked in. As a tribute to the legendary British bluesman, Montoya launched into a version of “All Your Love I Miss Loving.” Mayall was impressed enough with the guitarist that he left the club with a soundboard tape. It wasn’t long after that Montoya once again received a phone call out of the blue; this time it was Mayall, inquiring whether the guitarist would be interested in joining his newly reformed Bluesbreakers band. Though it might be a bit daunting to follow a path laid forth by Eric Clapton, Peter Green and Mick Taylor, Montoya also realized it would be an opportunity of a lifetime, a chance to take his guitar playing to a much higher level than jamming in local bars. He said yes, and, along with another young blues guitarist, Walter Trout, Montoya quickly began gaining worldwide notice as a bluesman to watch.
For the next decade, Montoya toured the world with Mayall, recording four albums as a member of the Bluesbreakers (the first one, 1985’s live Behind the Iron Curtain, immediately brought him to the attention of blues fans everywhere). With his blistering solos, he took his place among the guitar greats who had preceded him in the band, and even had many opportunities to open shows with his own sets. But by the early ‘90s, Montoya realized that it was time for a change, time for him to fly on his own. Following the advice of his mentor, Collins, and with the blessing of his boss, Mayall, Montoya left the nest, putting together his own band and hitting the road to hone his own sound night after night. He hasn’t looked back since.
In 1995, Montoya released his first solo outing, Gotta Mind to Travel, initially in Europe on Silvertone Records and then in the US on the Blind Pig label. Amid critical acclaim, it immediately caught on with blues fans and radio programmers, and the following year Montoya was nominated for four Blues Music Awards (then known as the Handys, presented by the Blues Foundation); he won for Best New Blues Artist.
His next album, Ya Think I’d Know Better, also on Blind Pig, quickly followed. It too showed an artist whose intense vocals and guitar playing were hitting all the right notes with the blues community, and it solidified Montoya’s status as a popular touring bluesman. Like its predecessor, it featured an Albert Collins tune (as have all his subsequent albums) in homage to his mentor, who had passed away in 1993. Just Let Go, his final release on Blind Pig, came out in 1997.
Montoya moved on to Chicago’s famed blues label, Alligator Records, which had been the longtime home to Collins. His debut for the label, Suspicion (2000), quickly became the best-selling album of his career to that point, and brought him an even bigger legion of fans. Can’t Look Back (2002) and Dirty Deal (2007) followed, solidifying Montoya’s popularity as a fan favorite both on record and live in concert. Collins is no doubt smiling down on him, knowing that his ‘son’ has faithfully followed his destiny
