When I was a kid, my family took a lot of road trips. Throughout each drive I would plead with my parents to let me choose the music. Every once and a while I got the chance to put on such timeless classics: Millennium, Aaron’s Party (Come and Get It) or The Space Jam Soundtrack. But for the most part, my pleas, thankfully, fell on deaf ears. Instead, we listened to John Prine, Stevie Wonder, Bruce Springsteen and occasionally, Little Feat.
I should probably state for the record that my Dad is a huge Little Feat fan. Despite serious considerations to 90’s alternative rock groups, Sugar and Everclear, Little Feat is his favorite band. So when I came home from school two summers ago, having spent the majority of the 12 hour drive back to Chicago listening to Little Feat’s Dixie Chicken, and told my Dad I had become a fan of The Feat, his excitement was roughly equivalent to when I told him I had gotten into college. That night we looked through his record collection for Little Feat records and one caught my eye. On the cover was a chocolate cake with arms and legs swinging on a rope swing while a solemn, 17th-century aristocrat looked on disapprovingly. Before I could so much as draw breath to ask a question about the album, my Dad said, “Son, there’s Abbey Road, and then there’s Sailin’ Shoes.”
Sailin’ Shoes, along with Dixie Chicken and Feats Don’t Fail Me Now, are the holy trinity of Little Feat studio albums. It’s no coincidence that the three best albums the band released all came out while the group had the incomparable Lowell George at the helm. In addition to being a musical visionary, George, or the “Rock’n’Roll Doctor” as he’s come to be known, is remembered for many things. Lowell pioneered the style of slide guitar; he led one of the first racially mixed bands in the United States; and he loved overalls the way William “Billy D” Durden loves bowties. Lowell’s soulful voice, freewheeling guitar style, and eclectic songwriting earned the band a cult-like following in the early 70’s. One member of the cult was Led Zeppelin guitarist, Jimmy Page, who stated multiple times that Little Feat was his favorite American band. Despite the group’s dedicated following, The Feat enjoyed only moderate commercial success. Tragically, Lowell George died of a drug overdose in 1979. Following George’s death, the now-rudderless Little Feat slowly drifted out of relevance leaving behind the incredibly sad question, “What if?”
The album, Sailin’ Shoes, is a stunning accomplishment. As far as achievements of mankind go, I’d put Sailin’ Shoes in the same class as the lunar landing. Each song on the record is completely unique yet, strangely, they perfectly follow a singular artistic vision. Lowell’s voice is powerful throughout whether he’s singing classic rock ballads (“Easy To Slip”) or blues (“A Apolitical Blues”). Also, George’s guitar work is nothing short of masterful. Other members of band made key contributions as well. Pianist Bill Payne played some of the best music of his career on Sailin’ Shoes. Additionally, bassist Roy Estrada wrote some funky bass lines that even Parliament’s Bootsy Collins would be proud to call his own.
On the whole, this album is simultaneously uplifting and depressing. Sailin’ Shoes is the epitome of what rock music was supposed to be: bluesy, soulful and funky, with great vocals and guitar. Perhaps the album’s most significant quality is its meaning. Lowell George wrote music as an exploration of American culture that stylistically incorporated elements of almost every American musical genre. Unfortunately, albums with meaning are less prevalent in music, so when you find one, cherish it. Yet, listening to an album like Sailin’ Shoes sadly puts in perspective how much mankind lost when Lowell George died. Damn heroin.
