37th... Bayou rock

Dixie Chicken. Four and a half stars.

It has taken me upwards of two years to be able to appreciate Little Feat, and I'll tell you why: When I first heard Dixie Chicken, I'd never even heard of the Allman Brothers Band. My tastes needed that sophisticated European touch you'd find on things like Country Life, The Idiot and Station to Station. I'd never heard ZZ Top or Lynyrd Skynyrd or even Neil Young. I'd also had no exposure to R&B or soul, so I thought Lowell George had an ugly voice. Nonplussed, I shelved it.

Recently, I revisited this CD and was astounded by how good it actually was. It's as though my brain has been rewired and of course, this time I was prepared - two years had allowed the strains of country rock to filter down into my subconscious.

The first rule to keep in mind is that, despite the band name, the album's title, the wacky cover art and the dry humour of the first track, this is a dark record, evoking a world of predatory women out looking for the next poor sap to suck dry, of sad young men, of desperation and unease and (in the real world) drugs everywhere.

A little history: prior to this release from 1973, the band had come into being partly as driftwood from the Mothers of Invention. Guitarist Lowell George and bassist Roy Estrada left in 1969 and put together a rock quartet, also featuring drummer Richard Hayward and classically-trained keyboardist Bill Payne. Well, they never were as popular as the Allman's, but the critics liked them.

By the time of Dixie Chicken (apparently their highest watermark), Estrada had rejoined the Mothers and been replaced by Ken Gradney, a New Orleans man. They also picked up another guitarist, Paul Barrere, freeing Lowell to focus solely on his slide guitar skills; and in a stroke of genius, they got another New Orleans man, Sam Clayton, on congas. Suddenly there was a fully-integrated six piece ensemble where a traditional band had once stood - and man, could they cook.

Appropriately, the title track is got out of the way first - it is hard to describe how swampgrass music sounds, but the words muddy, slippery and claustrophobic all come to mind. It's an odd little tune about a hell of a woman; at times the piano plays twice the speed of the other instruments, at times there's a neat little riff and there is a somewhat rueful humour to proceedings.

Did I mention the soul singers? There's a slew of them, including Bonnie Raitt, and they pack out Two Trains, an uptempo rocker comparing a love triangle to an approaching train crash. That squelchy musical tone is still in play, though I hasten to add that the production is clean and clear. Homegrown recording, this is not. Also, this song proves how great an R&B singer Lowell George actually was.

Roll Um Easy is the sole acoustic track, and judging by it, they should have done more. Centered on a world-weary, sad-eyed lyric, it makes a fine interlude.

On Your Way Down is a cover of Allen Toussaint, an influential New Orleans artist. It's no wonder Louisiana permeates the sound of the album. Morose, as any blues track should be, it's spared the usual sound by the swamp qualities of congas and soul. Nothing flashy about it, even during the bridge, but it's a standout all the same.

Kiss It Off is one of the most ominous tracks, despite the presence of a rather corny synthesizer flourish. Lowell keeps to the higher register as he sings about some sort of tyrannical "milquetoast Hitler." Somehow, it's not a joke; in fact, it sounds like nothing so much as a poor young man who's been pushed to the wall.

Fred Tackett (who later joined the band) wrote Fool Yourself, one of the least adventurous, but nicest, lyrical outings. Instead of the positive dragons to be seen elsewhere, this song focuses on a confused young woman. As such, it's compassionate, but alas, it's not quite as memorable as it should be.

Walkin' All Night is sung Bill Payne the keyboardist (correct me if I'm wrong); he cowrote it with Barrere and it's one of the grooviest tracks. Quite infectious. Nice change of pace.

Fat Man in the Bathtub is apparently some kind of Little Feat classic, but I've yet to figure out the appeal. What on earth is it about? The herky-jerky rhythm and randomness of the imagery does make it better for re-listening than some of the clearer songs, but my usual reaction to it is bafflement.

Juliette starts almost as if it's going to be a Nick Drake circa Bryter Layter type of tune, with the flute and shadowy, pastoral feel. Sadly, it segues into a more conventional rock song; the moments when it slows down are where it really shines.

Winding up, it's Lafayette Railroad. No more singing, but if you're a fan of Lowell's slide guitar this is the track for you. Cowrote with Payne, so it's pretty much all guitar and keyboards, with Clayton on percussion. Drowsy and laidback; guaranteed to lull you to sleep.

In the end, I am very glad to have persevered in learning the appeal of Dixie Chicken. The Fat Man may elude me, but I've come to greatly appreciate the sound and style of this peculiar branch of southern rock...

In other news, it's come to my attention that The Benefits of Cold Coffee is essentially a running list of my favorite CDs - even the subpar efforts such as Harvest are so fully enjoyed that the ratings up top are useless. If it's on the blog, it's because it was good enough to stand the multiple listens necessary to any of my reviews. In other words, this is the last of my "CD Name. Four to Five Stars," layout.

Until next week...