I love it. All these groups from 20-30 years ago are getting together and coming up with some of their best work yet.
Who’d a thunk it.
JJ Cale made an amazing album, “To Tulsa and Back,” that is once again, full of songs that Eric Clapton could make millions on if he records them and he probably will. Clapton’s Cocaine, penned by John, is basically the reason (residuals) why this album was made. Chuck Prophet, another great singer-song writer, and with retro-Iggy sound, has come up with a barn-buster in “Age of Miracles.”
And now Little Feat produce their best since “Feats don’t fail me now.” With the Feat the reason this album is so good is the chunky rhythms, the thick vocals, and backyard theatrics. These are great albums all. But is anyone listening?
Surely these artists, with their big names, will be recognized. But radio play, except perhaps on University stations, will be hard to find in this simulated brine that is fed to us each day.
The song “I’d be lyin” has rhythmic fish jumping in its opening sequence. This Shaun Murphy penned song reeks of petulance and hunger. Featuring Ken Gradney’s bass high in the mix and Richie Hayward on dead-true drums, and Shaun’s passionate wails, it may be my favourite.
This is a head phones on, fire in the fireplace kind of listen, for best effect; or a very good album to wake up to with a cup of coffee and a smiling woman, perhaps a barking dog. The stage is up to you. Caution: some of the more mellow songs may cause you to drive through red lights. Do not operate a vehicle until the third or fourth listen. And don’t operate a vehicle with a smiling woman and a barking dog perhaps ever.
It’s really hard to make an album that sounds like you are right there with the band in the barn listening to each note and getting pangs of Feat theatrics that are typically Feat, yet fresh as a new day.
It helps if you smoke one. I have been mixing it with tobacco today and as a result smoking too much. And now must proclaim, sorry, my favourite is Bill Payne’s “walking as two.” I don’t know why.
The eight minute and fifty three second instrumental “stomp” burns like a raging fire. Followed seamlessly by the loquacious but hip, “why don’t it look the way that it talk.” Sometimes the music provides its own scenery. Its own smiling woman and perhaps barking dog. On this song Fred Tackett pulls out an assembly of instruments that makes you want to fuck. Not the dog, but the woman. Make her smile. Make her bark. This is background music of the finest fabric and well not satiating yearnings, promotes them.
I’m sorry. I can’t go home without mentioning the guitars of Paul Barrere, and Sam Clayton’s jive vocals on “I do what the telephone tells me to do.” Kickin it at the Barn kicks.
Where has Feats been all my life. Ensconced in me heart, brain and gonads forever kickin it. This is yet another album that reminds you of the vinyl days and memories, memories…
www.LittleFeat.com
www.HotTomatoRecords.com
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