Waiting to Finish/Waiting for Columbus

Waiting for Columbus

Little Feat

1978

Most of the reviews I’ve written so far have been relatively easy to conceptualize. I almost always start the process by honing in on some sort of “angle” about the band or the rercording that I perceive as interesting (e.g. Geddy Lee as a “love him or hate him” rock and roll soprano, or Linda McCartney as a surrogate John Lennon on Paul’s early solo recordings etc.).  Then I use that angle as a theme that often opens and closes the piece and provides a point of reference along the way.   If you look back to most of my posts, the formula is pretty easy to spot. Once I figure out the angle, the ideas often come so quickly and unexpectedly that I have to leave the document open on my laptop – whether I’m working on it or not – so I can bash out a few rough sentences whenever a new thought inspires me.

But from the start, I’ve often wondered what would happen if I couldn’t find that angle. The question struck closer to home when I struggled through my reviews of Bob Dylan and the Band’s Basement Tapes and Todd Rundgren’s State, but even those challenging reviews weren’t this stubborn. I never expect writing to be easy, but then again, I never expected to hit the kind of multi-lane, interstate, rush hour pileup of a roadblock I encountered with this piece — my retro review of Little Feat’s double live album from 1978, Waiting for Columbus.

This was a first in my short “career” as a not-for-profit rock and roll blogger. Waiting for Columbus, resisted my every attempt to uncover a unique or interesting point of entry. I listened. I thought. I waited. And then repeated those steps for several weeks. But today, as I sit here on the back porch, watching distant lightning split the evening sky, pounding away at the Chiclet keys of my laptop, and determined to finally finish this up, I’m afraid I’m no better off than when I began. Sometimes you just have to power through.

Little Feat were never an AM radio “singles” band, but FM DJs, as well as other musicans, loved them and they got plenty of airplay in the 70s with album cuts like “Dixie Chicken,” “Oh Atlanta, ” “Time Loves a Hero” and others.  So it might surprise you to learn that Little Feat’s roots wind all the way back to the late 60s and Frank Zappa’s experimental Mother’s of Invention; a band that got almost no commercial radio exposure at all.  Lowell George, Little Feat’s founder, songwriter, slide guitarist, and lead vocalist got his start with Zappa’s Avant Garde troupe of pop deconstructionists, as did original bass player, Roy Estrada (who left Little Feat after just one record to join up with the legendary Captain Beefheart). You might also be surprised to learn that the band’s name came from a smart-ass remark made by the Mother’s drummer, Jimmy Carl Black, about Lowell George’s “little feet.” And how the band “doctored up” the spelling of their name, changing “Feet” to “Feat”, as a clever tribute to a band from Liverpool, England who famously punned the spelling of their name from “Beetles” to “Beatles.”

Some people dig the various and unconfirmed stories about how Lowell George got himself kicked out of the Mothers, and was essentially forced to start Little Feat.  One theory suggests that when George played Zappa his original song, “Willin,” Zappa was so blown away that he convinced George he was too talented to be a sideman.  Others say that the famously weird, but straight edge Zappa was put off by the song’s druggie references to “weed, whites and wine.” And still others claim Zappa fired George for playing a 15-minute guitar solo during a live performance with an amplifier George had neglected to turn on.

I doubt anyone knows for sure which, if any, of these accounts is true, but I have a feeling the truth of the matter most likely straddles all three tales.   For example, maybe Lowell George had a habit of not only writing about pot, pills and booze. Maybe — just maybe — every now and then he partook. If he did, you’d have to think that on a least one occasion, he might have shown up for a Mother’s gig a little tuned up and forgot to power up his amp.  And of course, it’s entirely possible that none of that ever happened and that Zappa really did think George had the potential for a more successful career on his own.

Either way, the first, fantastic and largely ignored self-titled Little Feat record, featuring “Willin,” sounded a lot like an American version of the Rolling Stones. But by the time Little Feat got around to recording the follow-up, Sailin’ Shoes, they had already begun to mature into a unique brand of Americana influenced,  jam band rock and roll that like Zappa’s Mothers of Invention, celebrated clever songwriting and top-notch musicianship. Unlike the Mothers, however, there was nothing academic or Avant Garde about Little Feat. Mashing up rock, blues, swamp, jazz, country, funk and pop influences, Little Feat, took the most traditional forms of American music and twisted them into something that often transcended the sum of its influences. Their music sounded familiar and at the same time…like nothing else you ever heard.

All of their early records, up to and including Waiting for Columbus, are terrific, but Waiting for Columbus has always been a favorite and probably the best place for the uninitiated to start.  Like many live albums, the set list is packed with fan favorites and serves as a de facto greatest hits collection for newbies.  In the parlance of the times, this was prime Feat, with no stems or seeds to cut the experience.  And as a band that always seemed much more comfortable on the stage than in the studio, these live versions almost always outshine the their studio doppelgängers.

They say Lowell George was bored with Little Feat and on the verge of quitting his own band during the seven shows recorded and released as Waiting for Columbus.  Although the band’s studio recordings were still getting good reviews and plenty of FM airplay, George thought the band had lost its edge and was veering off track, sounding more often than not like the light, homoginized brand of jazz-rock that was becoming increasingly popular at the time (think Weather Report and Chuck Mangione).  He had already withdrawn from writing for the band, leaving keyboardist Bill Payne and second guitarist, Paul Barrere to take up the slack – but if there was tension in the band, it seemed to disappear every time the house lights dimmed, the stage lights came up and Little Feat took the stage. That’s the magic of rock and roll.

Lowell George’s voice and guitar tone, a gorgeous concoction of compression, phase shifting and silky smooth fuzz distortion dominates the record.  You can’t listen to Waiting for Columbus without remembering George (who tragically died of heart failure in 1979 as he was just embarking on his solo career) in his trademark white overalls, sporting a full, scruffy, old school beard, eyes closed and smiling at no one in particular as he sang and worked that heavy slide up and down the neck of his Stratocastor.

There’s not a wasted moment on the whole shebang but my favorites include the opener “Fat Man in the Bathtub,” “Spanish Moon,” and especially “Mercenary Territory,” featuring an amazing musical moment when the Tower of Power horn section joins forces with George’s slide guitar.  Together they climb to an unforgettable climax, hitting a note so high it is almost inaudible, rising miles above the song, above the band, and above that moment captured in time on Waiting for Columbus. It lasts for probably no more than 30 seconds and it immediately makes you wish you were there.

So there you have it.  The hardest review I’ve written so far is finished, having taught me two important lessons; that you can sometimes love a band or a record without really knowing why, and that sometimes you just have to power through.  Until next time…

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