You ever wonder what it looks like when a torch actually gets passed? Not some corporate award ceremony or a forced social media shoutout, but a real, sweat-soaked, string-bending moment of transition?
That’s exactly what went down on December 6, 1983.
Albert King with Stevie Ray Vaughan at the CHCH-TV studios in Hamilton, Ontario. It was a cold Tuesday in Canada. Inside the studio, though, the temperature was basically melting the amplifiers. This wasn't just another TV gig. It was the only professional recording ever made of these two together, and honestly, it almost didn't happen.
The Big Man Didn’t Know Who "Stevie" Was
Here’s the thing about Albert King. He was 6-foot-4, weighed about 250 pounds, and played a Gibson Flying V (affectionately named "Lucy") left-handed and upside down. He wasn't exactly known for being easy-going. When the producers of the Canadian show In Session approached him about playing with a young guy named Stevie Ray Vaughan, Albert’s response was essentially: "Who?"
He didn't have a clue.
Stevie was blowing up at the time. His debut album, Texas Flood, had dropped earlier that year. He was the "new king" of the blues. But to Albert, he was just another name. It wasn't until someone reminded Albert about a "skinny white kid" who used to hang around Antone's in Austin and beg to sit in that the lightbulb went off.
"Oh," Albert realized. "You mean Little Stevie?"
Once he made the connection—remembering the kid who had the audacity to play Albert's own licks right back at him years prior—he was in. The respect was already there, buried in a decade-old memory of a Texas club.
🔗 Read more: Blink-182 Mark Hoppus: What Most People Get Wrong About His 2026 Comeback
Why In Session Still Matters Decades Later
A lot of "legendary" jams are actually kind of messy. People step on each other's toes. They overplay. They try to show off. But Albert King with Stevie Ray Vaughan is different because of the dynamic. It’s a masterclass in musical conversation.
If you listen to the tracks—and I mean really listen—you can hear Stevie holding back at first. He’s playing with his idol. He’s nervous. You can see it in the video too; he’s looking at Albert like a student waiting for permission to speak.
Albert, being the "Velvet Bulldozer," basically had to shove him into the spotlight. During "Blues at Sunrise," which clocks in at a massive 15 minutes, you can hear Albert coaching him, telling him to "play it" and pushing him to take the lead. It’s father-son energy, but with more distortion.
The Gear and the Sound
The setup was dead simple. No pedals, no fancy racks.
- Albert King: His signature Flying V and an Acoustic 270 amplifier.
- Stevie Ray Vaughan: His "Number One" Stratocaster and (likely) his Dumble or a couple of Vibro-Verbs.
- The Band: Tony Llorens on keys, Gus Thornton on bass, and Michael Llorens on drums.
They didn't rehearse. Not really. They just sat on stools, lit up (Albert had his pipe, obviously), and started "Born Under a Bad Sign."
Breaking Down the Setlist
Most of the session is Albert’s territory. That makes sense—he was the elder statesman. They ran through "Call It Stormy Monday," "Old Times," and "Don’t Lie to Me." But the real fireworks happen when they swap roles.
When they hit "Pride and Joy," it’s one of the rare moments Stevie takes the lead vocal. It’s fascinating to hear Albert King—the man who practically invented the modern blues-rock lead style—playing rhythm behind Stevie. He’s not just sitting back, though. He’s adding these massive, percussive chops that make the song swing harder than the studio version ever did.
💡 You might also like: Why Grand Funk’s Bad Time is Secretly the Best Pop Song of the 1970s
Then there’s "Texas Flood."
In the DVD version, you see Albert stand up during the solo. It’s a subtle move, but in the world of blues stage presence, it’s a huge "I’m still the boss" statement. Stevie just smiles. He knows. He’s just happy to be in the room.
The "Hendrix" Story
There’s a weirdly famous bit of banter during "Blues at Sunrise." Albert starts talking about how he once played this song with Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix.
Now, if you’re a history nerd, the math doesn't quite work. Stevie was just a kid when Janis and Jimi died. But Albert isn't lying; he's just reflecting on his own history. He tells Stevie that Jimi "played it, but he didn't play it like you."
That’s probably the highest compliment any guitar player has ever received in the history of the instrument. To have Albert King tell you that you’re doing right by a song he used to play with Hendrix? You might as well retire right then.
What Most People Get Wrong
People often call this a "battle of the blues." That’s total nonsense. It wasn't a competition.
If Stevie wanted to "outplay" Albert in terms of speed or technicality, he probably could have. He was younger and had that frantic, high-octane energy. But he didn't. He played with Albert. He matched Albert’s phrasing. He respected the space.
📖 Related: Why La Mera Mera Radio is Actually Dominating Local Airwaves Right Now
On the flip side, Albert wasn't trying to bury the kid. He was genuinely impressed. You can hear it in the way he laughs between the licks. It’s the sound of an old lion realizing the pride is in good hands.
How to Experience it Today
For years, this session was a bit of a bootleg legend. It finally got a proper release in 1999 (long after both men had passed away), and a deluxe DVD version in 2010.
If you're just getting into it, don't just stream it on your phone speakers. You need to hear the low end. You need to hear the way Gus Thornton’s bass locks in with Albert’s thumb-picked notes.
What to do next:
- Watch the DVD, don't just listen to the CD. The visual interaction—the nods, the smiles, the way Albert watches Stevie’s hands—is half the story.
- Listen for the "silence." Pay attention to the moments where neither of them is playing. That’s where the real blues lives.
- Compare the versions. Listen to Albert’s original 1967 Stax recordings of these songs, then listen to the 1983 session. It’ll show you exactly how Stevie modernized the licks while keeping the soul intact.
Honestly, we’re lucky the cameras were rolling. Blues history is full of "you should have been there" stories that nobody actually caught on tape. This time, we have the receipts.
Get your hands on the 2024 remastered vinyl if you can. It’s the closest you’ll get to sitting in that Hamilton studio back in '83, feeling the air move every time Albert hit one of those impossible three-step bends.