LITTLE FEAT — Down on the Farm (review)

LITTLE FEAT — Down on the Farm album cover

Album · 1979 · RnB

3.5/5 · 2011-11-09
Chicapah

There are just some things that can’t be explained. How the weird stone statues got to Easter Island, why there isn’t an exact number for pi and why “Down On the Farm” is better than the two studio albums that preceded it to name but a few. By all reasoning the disc should be a train wreck because the members of Little Feat were so at odds with each other that they actually announced they were breaking up while they were still recording it and their charismatic front man Lowell George unexpectedly died of a massive heart attack before it was finished. Taking all that into consideration they could certainly have been excused for putting out a disjointed, uninspired collection of songs but this album turned out to be one of their best. Their inner conflicts spurred them to create some of the finest music they’d made in half a decade in spite of themselves. I guess it proves the adage that the hardiest gardens grow out of the smelliest manure. Or something like that.

The album opens with an amusing “slice of life” episode involving an unidentified man and a persistent, croaking toad that lightens the mood immediately. The band then leaps into the title tune written by guitarist Paul Barrere and it turns out to be one of the more exciting tracks they’d laid down in years. It’s a perfect blend of funk and rock that never produces a single dull moment and the humorous lyrics are bound to raise a smile (a variation on the old “how you gonna keep ‘em down on the farm after they’ve seen Paree?” theme.) It immediately became one of my favorite Feat songs the first time I heard it and that lofty ranking has yet to change. Lowell’s “Six Feet of Snow” doesn’t fare as well, though. It’s a Cajun spice-inflected ditty that belies George’s ongoing fascination with the country/folk genre. Guest musician Sneaky Pete performs flawlessly on his pedal steel guitar and it’s probably a treat if you care for that kind of stuff. (Sorry, I don’t.) But the group bounces right back from that dip in the trail with Paul’s “Perfect Imperfection,’ an excellent tune with a slinky west coast R&B feel supporting a jazzy chord progression. Barrere’s short guitar solo is gutsy and penetrating and Bill Payne’s keyboards provide a dense backdrop for Lowell’s emotional singing. Again, to this day I’m astounded at the high level of artistry they were able to collectively conjure up out of themselves while dealing with distracting discord within the ranks.

George’s “Kokomo” follows and, unfortunately, it just never finds a solid groove to travel in. The track sounds forced and it drags down the album’s momentum just when it was regaining its stride. The songs Lowell co-wrote with Bill Payne are much better although the next cut (one he penned with his pal Fred Tackett), “Be One Now,” is the exception. It’s definitely a step up in quality over “Kokomo,” thanks in no small part to having a less predictable structure. Most of all I like how they refrained from unnecessarily trying to enhance George’s voice on this number. His unadorned singing works like magic just as it is. Bill and Lowell’s “Straight From the Heart” sports a light but motivating funk drive that pushes the song forward from the get go. The intertwining guitar work from Barrere and George (on bottleneck slide) is mutually complimentary and very entertaining to pay attention to while the rhythm section of Richard Haywood on drums and Kenny Gradney on bass puts down a firm foundation without ever letting things get too busy. Another Payne & George composition, “Front Page News,” picks up where that one left off and this tune possesses a noteworthy Steely Dan vibe yet it maintains their unique Little Feat atmospherics. Bill’s piano and synthesizer artistry is outstanding and Lowell’s voice is superb in its powerful subtlety. The second half of the tune is so sublime it’s almost transcendent and it shows definitively their affection for and their ability to concoct jazzy auras. When these guys were on their feed they were as good as any band in America.

I may be wrong but I suspect that Payne’s “Wake Up Dreaming” was one of the last tracks recorded (possibly after George had left the sessions) because it’s uncharacteristically poppish. It adopts a sign-of-the-times Fleetwood Mac-like format that isn’t all that offensive yet it effectively pronounces the end of an era for the group because it hardly sounds like them at all. Having said that, they mold it in a presentable fashion and Paul turns in a hot guitar ride along the way. As far as the closer goes, conga man Sam Clayton’s amateurish “Feel The Groove,” my advice is to do yourself a favor and skip it altogether. It’s a weak, reggae beat-soaked ditty that has filler written all over it due to there being no other explanation for it having an existence except to take up 4:48 to complete the vinyl disc. I warn you, it’s a waste of one’s precious listening time that would be well-spent doing most anything else in the world. It’s quite difficult to sit through this one without becoming nauseated and it’s a stain on their resume.

Nevertheless, as bad as the last track is, by ignoring it you’ll find “Down On the Farm” a very worthwhile album to indulge in and a fitting salute to Lowell George’s illustrious career as the leader of Little Feat. (If his uneven solo debut was any indication, he wasn’t about to set the world afire on his own.) It was released in November of ’79, just under five months after his tragic passing and the band disintegrated immediately into the ether. It would be nine long years before the surviving members realized how special their cooperative blend of styles was and wisely re-grouped for another extended run together. I’m glad they didn’t shove 8 of these 9 songs into a locked vault when things went south for them and conceal them from their fans. They were smart to put this one out. Otherwise we fans would’ve missed out on getting to enjoy some of their better material and that would’ve been a travesty.