“And I’ve been from Tucson to Tucumcari, Tehachapi to Tonopah
Driven every kind of rig that’s ever been made
Driven the back roads so I wouldn’t get weighed
And if you give me: weed, whites, and wine
And you show me a sign
I’ll be willin’ to be movin’ ”
– Lowell George (Little Feat)
I saw a great, new band this summer: the kids call themselves Little Feat.
I write that in jest, of course. Little Feat has been kicking rock and roll ass for 55 years – I use the “rock and roll” reference hesitantly since Little Feat remains, to this day, one of those refreshingly defiant gumbo acts, filling fans’ ear holes with a musical melting pot of funk, boogie-woogie, blues, rockabilly, swamp, country, horns, Caribbean beats, guitar gonzo greatness – and, yes, rock and roll. Their live shows are a joyous jam session jamboree. Their songs have been covered by a who’s who of popular musicians.
Technically, though, Little Feat is a “new” band to me.
Full disclosure: I was aware of Little Feat most of my life, mainly due to flippantly flipping past their albums in record shop bins on my journey to finding (this is so embarrassing to admit) the latest Little River Band release.
Bottom line: I had heard of Little Feat; I just had not heard Little Feat.
If I deserve a music lover demerit, it is due to my late appreciation of all things Little Feat.
I recall no friends mentioning Little Feat; but over the years, musicians I long admired occasionally referenced (and continue to reference) Little Feat as an influence, speaking their name with a reverence typically reserved for that other band of “musicians’ musicians” lore, The Band, who is a first cousin, sound- and talent-wise, to the lesser known Little Feat. The Band actually charted on mainstream radio with “The Weight,” “Up On Cripple Creek,” and “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.”
That Little Feat bypassed Casey Kasem’s American Top 40 is what cemented my shameful closed-mindedness. Many years would pass before I realized that popular radio was merely the iceberg tip to deeper depths of a more rewarding musical spectrum.
To sample Little Feat “back in the day” would’ve meant plunking down hard-earned lawn mowing money while risking being “stuck” with a record I might regret. We cave people of the pre-online streaming generations lacked today’s at-your-fingertips luxury of sampling an entire record on Spotify before deciding whether to buy it or bypass it.
Little Feat during a performance at Everwise Amphitheater this summer. (Photo by Scott Saalman)
I am well aware of the grievances (rightfully so) aired by my professional musician friends regarding the digital streaming company’s chintzy compensation practices. Still, I unabashedly admit that Spotify has enriched my musical appreciations simply by introducing me to scores of artists (old and new) that I wouldn’t have known otherwise. Customized playlists populated by Spotify’s soulless bots based on the bread crumb trails of my recent song selections often result in me buying tickets for concerts I otherwise would’ve skipped.
I first “discovered” Little Feat thanks to an online ad for one of their shows last June in Indy. The ad included the band’s trademark cartoony, yet sexy, tomato girl plastered on album covers who once tried to seduce me and my wallet from the record bins of my youth. “Little Feat is still at it after all these years despite me still not being able to name even one of their songs,” I thought. I was impressed by their longevity and steadfastness. I also realized I still had a crush on a long-lashed, smiling, come-hither, bright-red tomato chick. (Farmers, hide your tomatoes!) The ad prompted me to do a deep dive via a Spotify This Is Little Feat playlist, which led me to Waiting For Columbus, hailed by critics, including Rolling Stone, as one of the best live albums recorded (rightfully so). Subsequent replays of Columbus set high expectations for their Indy concert. I’m happy to report that the show was everything I hoped it would be, if not more.
Arguably, Little Feat qualifies as the godfather of Americana music. They remain a pre-eminent band without boundaries, sustaining success in their own unique way while thumbing their noses at the mediocrity representing music commerciality. That, in itself, is no small feat.
Little Feat has become my favorite band. So what if I’m half a century late to the party? I’m pondering tickets for their Louisville show later this year. As a Little Feat newbie, I know I have a lot of making up to do. Let’s just say, I’m willin’.
Email Scott at scottsaalman@gmail.com. To read a 2022 review in Under The Radar magazine written by Scott’s music writer son Austin about Little Feat’s 1972 album, Sailin’ Shoes, click here.