Dave Chisholm recalls sipping whiskey with Willie Dixon’s bandmates at the Commodore

By Steve Newton

When it comes to the history of blues music in Vancouver, there may be no greater authority than Dave Chisholm. The local singer and saxophonist spent many a year toiling away in the city’s blues joints with local party band the Fins, and opening shows at the Commodore Ballroom for some of the biggest names in the business.

The loquacious Chisholm has previously had his memories of opening for Johnny Winter and being the house band at the Marble Arch posted on Ear of Newt, and today he submitted his story of the Fins warming up for blues legend Willie Dixon for two nights.

Take it away, Dave-O!

Carey and Butch Drew didn’t tell us; Matt read it in the Georgia Straight. “We are opening for Willie Dixon for two nights, a Friday and Saturday,” he said.

Drew Burns owned the Commodore Ballroom, which is still the best venue in Vancouver. Matt was my best friend and guitarist, and Willie Dixon was a legendary musician, producer, songwriter, and advocate for blues artists. He successfully sued Led Zeppelin for plagiarism and used the money to fund the Blues Haven Foundation.

During his tenure at Chess Records in Chicago between 1950 and 1965, Willie Dixon helped shape the sound of Chicago Blues and served as an essential link between blues and rock ‘n’ roll. His groundbreaking work with Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, Little Walter, Bo Diddley, and Chuck Berry transformed American music. As a result, Willie became a member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. He won a Grammy as well.

The Fins were a bunch of white kids playing blues-rock. Our resume was less impressive than Willie Dixon’s, but we were ready to rock. The band was Matt Steffich on guitar, Bruce Morrison on bass, George Capone on piano, Darwin Glover on drums, and I played harmonica and sax. Matt and I shared lead vocals.

It was our second time opening at the Commodore, the first being a one-night show supporting John Lee Hooker. It was the only time we got two consecutive nights at the Commodore; it was a big deal.

The Fins opening for Willie Dixon. Mike Busswood photo

We put on a solid one-hour set to the sold-out crowd on Friday night. Willie’s band took the stage and kicked into an instrumental. I do not remember the drummer or guitarist’s names, but Willie’s son, Butch, played piano, and Carey Bell was on harmonica. Willie’s son Freddy played bass.

What a band! They were confident, relaxed, and super tight. Butch was the musical director, and his piano set up everything. Carey Bell’s harmonica was incredible; mean and nasty but melodic and tasteful. The harp sounded like a dirty, evil saxophone. The presence and phrasing of the whole band were outstanding; the groove was hypnotic and infectious.

Butch was the master of ceremonies, and he thanked us before introducing his father. “Thanks to the Fins for doin’ a great job; these cats can play the blues,” he shouted into the mic. What a pro!

Willie was gigantic in stature and presence. This legend defined Chicago Blues, and nobody can deny his contribution to the creation of rock and roll. Larger than life, he commanded the stage with his gold-tooth smile, singing his many hit songs.

It is hard to describe the music and history of that night. My old friend Steve Kozak was there both nights. “It was like going to church,” he recalled. It was so authentic. Many English and American bands have covered Willie’s songs, but they have always fallen short of the original. English blues leaves me cold. Willie’s band was the real thing; accept no substitutes.

After the show, Bruce, Matt and I sat backstage with Carey and Butch drinking whisky. Butch walked in and removed his Willie Dixon t-shirt to exchange for my Fins T. I was happy to do that and put on the hot and sweaty shirt Butch had worn during the show. He wore the Fins shirt onstage the next night.

We sat and listened to Butch and Carey until very late, sipping whisky and listening to their stories. It was one of the highlights of my life in music. Butch wanted to play football, but his parents made him learn an instrument. Lafayette Leake, a renowned piano player, taught the young man, and he became a skilled player in the blues tradition. Butch grew up with Chicago blues legends and some of the finest jazz musicians.

Carey was born in Mississippi and moved to Chicago in the mid-fifties. He studied and recorded with Big Walter Horton but developed his unique style. He also played bass to secure steady work.

When I asked him why he used a bass amp at the show, he declared, “I ain’t buyin’ another amp!” Carey complimented me on my sax playing, saying, “You don’t play no jazz, just the blues.” It was all I could play. Carey had wanted to play sax, but his family was poor, so they got him a harmonica, or “Mississippi Saxophone”.

I will never forget that night. It is impossible to explain how much we were humbled and inspired by these two great men. Of course, these things happen at the Commodore. Willie, Butch and Carey have all passed away, but they will live on in American music forever.

As we stumbled down the stairs on Friday night, I looked at Bruce and said, “We’ll do this again tomorrow!” and we did.