Lowell George's Blue Plate Special Dept.

It’s pretty generally accepted [asserts One Buck Guy - Ed.] that Little Feat didn’t become the Little Feat we all love until at least their second album, “Sailin’ Shoes”, if not “Dixie Chicken” with the classic six-piece line-up. The first album got them noticed, not necessarily by the general public as it pretty much sold jack and shit, then at least by the critics, and it consolidated their signing to Warner Brothers, back when you could have multiple underperforming records (“Sailin’ Shoes” only sold a couple of copies more) without anyone dropping you from the label. 

I’ve always liked that first album, though. It certainly is rough around the edges. The sound is still hung up deep in the blues rather than the New Orleans R & B the band would soon trade in and has traces of the garage rock of his former band. Not sure the Howlin’ Wolf stuff was a good fit. And you can see why they re-cut the classic-in-waiting “Willin’”. The makings of something good are there, but the band was still putting it together. One of the issues, I think, is Russ Titleman’s production, which makes the album seem somewhat feature-less, slightly mushy, with most of the instruments being largely indistinguishable. Seemingly, Lowell and Titleman hated working with each other. Still, the highs are high: “Truck Stop Girl”, “Brides Of Jesus”, “I’ve Been The One”, “Strawberry Flats”. They would get more refined really quickly, but there is a ramshackle charm to this first outing that sounds like nothing else in the Feat discography. 

Fast forward a couple of years, when the end is nigh. Lowell George is pretty out of it: his mind, his songwriting, performing with the band. Drugs are, I’m told, a hell of a drug. Coca-haine, running through my brain and all that. Years of junk food had made him balloon all the way to 300+ pounds.  Just compare George to even in 1975 when Feat’s fortune’s were slipping. He was still at a decent 180 pounds and still in full control of his powers. But they were fading, and he and the band drifted apart. It was a vicious cycle of sorts: Lowell’s songwriting well began to run dry, so the other band members stepped up with more contributions, which with their new jazz-fusion leanings further alienated George, who in turn became even more passive in his dealings with the band. Payne and Lowell were a fabulous songwriting duo during the early days of the band, but now Payne and Barrère started to become closer collaborators, with Lowell shut out, or, shuttting himself out. The Feat plowed on, but they were fast becoming something different from the previous group.

In that pretty volatile situation, Lowell dropped his solo album, Thanks I’ll Eat It Here. He had negotiated for a solo deal years earlier, mainly to use the record company advance to keep the band alive and going during lean periods. And then, from 1975 onwards, he occasionally recorded what would become his solo record. When the rest of the group learned that Lowell, now more or less completely isolated from the rest of the group, would not only release a solo record, but tour behind it, they were crestfallen. Work on a new record – which would become Down On The Farm – had been slow, and was now halted. Essentially, Little Feat were put on hold, though the account of who dropped who, whether the band split up or took an, ahem, infinite hiatus largely depends on who tells the story. 

If only Lowell’s solo platter would have been worth it. But, man, what a disappointment it turned out to be. Barely a half hour worth of music with a skimpy new three authored or co-authored Lowell songs, the rest filled up with covers of Toussaint, Rickie Lee Jones, Jimmy Webb and even himself. Ann Peebles’ “I Can’t Stand The Rain” was fine, but predictable, while the music hall whimsy of “Himmler’s Ring” was – at least to my ears – absolutely atrocious. Whatever you think of the individual songs, it’s hard to deny that there is an almost complete lack of energy here. The album would be pretty much a total wash, if not for “20 Million Things”, Lowell’s collaboration with Roger McGuinn’s (and Dylan’s) old running mate Jacques Levy. 

One great song does not a comeback make, but when Little Feat completed and released Down On The Farm a couple of months after Lowell’s death, there were signs that the well of George’s songwriting hadn’t been completely dry. Call me crazy, but “Six Feet Of Snow”, “Kokomo”, “Straight From The Heart” and “Be One Now” pretty much beat the tar out of most of what George had been coming up with since 1975. And yet, the rest of the album also illustrates the gulf between the group as it had been, with the Feat starting to sound like Gaucho-era Steely Dan (no, that’s not a compliment in my book) on tracks like “Perfect Imperfection” (despite Lowell on vocals) and “Wake Up Dreaming”. Still, if the Lowell tracks on Down On The Farm are any indication, the fire was greatly diminished, but not completely extinguished yet. But Lowell was gone, and so was Little Feat, at least for a while. And the rest is another story. 

The attached music offering is a collection of lesser known odds’n’ends Lowell stuff, quite a bit of it with Little Feat. 

Roll Um Easy

Yeah, let’s get rolling with this fine solo remake of the Feat track off Dixie Chicken, done for possible inclusion on his solo album. Maybe he felt a redone “Two Trains” was enough, given the skimpy running time, though, this would have been nice to have on Thank’s I’ll Eat It Here Later. For me, it also beats that Trains remake rather easily

Doriville

One of the loveliest Feat outtakes. This deserves to be much wider known. Just an absolute beauty.

Good Lovin’

The track that got this whole project started, Lowell being backed by The Grateful Dead on this outtake from the Shakedown Street sessions. It’s raucous, it’s rowdy, it’s slightly off-kilter – it’s very Dead and very very Lowell.

Crack In Your Door

The earliest version, with an embryonic Feat.

Brickyard Blues (Play Something Sweet)

Really good outtake, certainly better than some of the stuff that made the records.

Willin’ 

Lovely live version from 1974 with some quicksilvery, extra lovely piano work from Bill Payne. I might be critical of some of the man’s latter Feat feats, but this is fantastic. 

Feats Don’t Fail Me Now 

Lively alternative version. The classic Feat New Orleans R’n’B.

Easy To Fall (Easy To Slip)

One of two demos they gave the Doobie Brothers. The Ted Templeman connection I guess. The Doobies didn’t use them, too bad for them. I really like the mid-tempo shuffle of this one.

Long Distance Love

The original version of the song with an extra verse before they rejigerred the Feats Don’t Fail Me Album. It sounds more like a demo and the vocal is curiously flat with an odd cadence. Admittedly it’s not a patch on the published version, but not very widely circulated and thus right at home with the assorted odds’n’ends here.

Rock’n’Roll Doctor

Alternative version with a horn section. The song cooks either way, of course, the horns are a nice extra touch they seemingly decided they didn’t need, but let’s be real, it would have been an instant Feat classic in any of these versions.

Fool On The Avenue

Lowell solo demo from 1975, just the man and his guitar. Lovely stuff.

Wait Til The Shit Hits The Fan

Early version of “The Fan”, as rowdy and garage-y as early Feat would get. Just listen to those frat boy “Whoh”s.

Juliet

 Like “Crack In  Your Door”, this is from the pre-Warner Brothers session

Two Trains

Lowell’s demo for the band: him, his trusty drum machine and even more trusty guitar. A killer, even in this early unadorned form.

Heartache 

Unfortunately never properly recorded for reasons unknown, the demo with Valerie Carter was attached as a bonus track to Thanks I’ll Eat It Here. This is from a radio appearance in 1974, slightly rough sound quality, but it’s Lowell & Linda. ‘Nuff said. 

Rat Faced Dog

More early, rowdy Feat, cookin’ up some hard boogie. Guitar freaks will love the work out. 

What Do You Want The Girl To Do

From his solo tour, with his really slick backing band, this is almost disco. Lovely background (due to the mix almost duet) vocals by Maxine Dixon. Recorded three days before his death, more proof that reports of him being some sort of unsalvagable wreck at the end were mostly unfounded, at least as far as stage performance is concerned. 

Texas Rose Café

The second demo for the Doobies.

China White

A song that stayed with Lowell from the early 70’s until he finally recorded it in 1978. Published on “Hoy-Hoy!”, from the slow build to the bluesy middle to the full-blown gospel choir, this is a lot of Lowell in a nutshell.

20 Million Things

For me personally, this is Lowell’s masterpiece, and thus there was no other way to end this collection. If I listen to this with one ear, I sing along (as well as possible) to it, if I listen intently I get choked up. This gets me, totally, every time. It’s also an understated tribute to Lowell’s talents. Somewhere adrift on this island is a discussion between the Farqster and yours truly, about how hard it is to sing along to this seemingly straightforward song, because Lowell does some interesting things with his vocal delivery, always a tick earlier or later than you would expect. And, man, that Lowell (or Levy) could turn a phrase: “...all the letters never written, that don’t get sent”. Lyrically and in sentiment a close cousin to Jim Croce’s “Time In A Bottle”, both remind us of how both their respective authors had approximately 20 Million Things still left to do, and no time left to do them. Forgive the slightly distant sound quality, for extra poignancy this is the last ever “20 Million Things” from the Lisner Auditorium during Lowell’s last concert. Three songs later he would stop singing. One day later he was gone. Time had slipped away. 

And we miss him, still, and always.