Opening for Little Feat at Burlington’s venerable Flynn Center on October 20th, Larry Campbell and Teresa Williams almost, but not quite, stole the show from the headliners. Their choice of material might well have been enough, ranging from the Louvin Brothers to Rev. Gary Davis to originals like “Surrender to Love.” But in also being gracious enough to welcome to the stage Feats keyboardist Bill Payne and bassist Kenny Gradney–as well as the horn section consisting of saxophonists Jay Collins and Erik Lawrence plus trumpeter/trombonist Steven Bernstein–the duo’s foreshadowed the even greater eclectics to come. Their forty-minutes or so was deeply satisfying out of proportion to its length.
The first number of Little Feat’s ninety-minutes, however, did not augur well for their show. The house sound was one-dimensional on “Tripe Face Boogie” and the musicianship of the larger ensemble was comparably flat. Fortunately, percussionist Sam Clayton’s congas began to pop on both sides of the stereo spectrum when he growled his way through “Spanish Moon” and the horns echoed the menacing, bluesy tone of Campbell’s lead guitar.
Including but not limited to the fiddle on “Six Feet of Snow,” Campbell, the onetime keeper of the late Levon Helm’s Barn in Woodstock has his own voice on any instrument he plays. Yet as he demonstrated during the course of the night, his slide playing in particular evoked more than passing resemblance to the eccentric slo-mo style of the band’s late co-founder Lowell George. Subbing for the ailing Little Feat guitarist and original member Paul Barrere (liver disease complications), the multi-instrumentalist/vocalist Campbell was, time and time again, a certifiable and valid flashpoint for much of the rowdiest acclamation from the near-sold out crowd: as on “Time Loves A Hero” and even more so “Rocket In My Pocket,” he reaffirmed the lessons in resourcefulness he learned as a long-time bandmember of Bob Dylan and as a member of Phil Lesh and Friends.
Such versatility was absolutely essential to the slow-burn pacing of Little Feat’s performance. Campbell’s nimble acoustic playing complemented guitarist Fred Tackett’s, whose own fluent use of mandolin served to lively up a few numbers and none more so than on “Rooster Rag,” the latter-day composition of Payne’s, co-authored with recently-deceased Grateful Dead lyricist Robert Hunter. But the Mexicali flavor the ‘wooden’ instrument brought to the late Lowell’s “Willin’” was an even more ingenious reinvention of the familiar tune, particularly as it appeared at the outset in the homestretch of the concert.
Along with the horns at their quietest—and perhaps most stately moments—Campbell’s soloing rescued a “Sailin’ Shoes” more turgid than tantalizing. Meanwhile, drummer Gabe Ford proved himself a past master at changing up rhythmic patterns, though the curious the miking of his kit, unfortunately, did not pick up and relay around the house some nuances of his syncopation. Nevertheless, in tandem with Clayton, he vigorously slapped out the second-line beat to “Fat Man in the Bathtub” and the rest of the ten-piece followed suit, all of whom were cushioned by Gradney’s bass lines: the deep notes he coaxed from his instrument functioned something like a spring-loaded dance floor on top of which the rest of the action took place.
Williams had reappeared at roughly the midpoint of the set and, in the interim, had sung with a combination of delicacy and guts to successfully transcend mere memories of past female vocalists’ contributions to the sound(s) of Little Feat (Bonnie Raitt and Emmylou Harris among others). And as she belted out “All That You Dream,” what was intended as a dedication to their absent comrade might well have been a self-referential paean to the group itself. Her lusty delivery somewhat mitigated the chance for the audience to sing along, as it had eagerly attempted to earlier, but the closing of “Dixie Chicken” supplied the ideal opportunity for the most euphoric of attendees to chime in and they made the most of it, to the point the multiple vocalists on stage became almost as redundant there as during “Oh Atlanta. ”
At that point, it became eminently clear how, on this ever-so-pleasant autumn night in the Green Mountains, Little Feat circa 2019 had roundly celebrated their half-century milestone and did justice to the legacy at the very same time. It was thus no surprise that an abiding air of pride shrouded the performers as they shuffled off stage. And in those who had observed it all, whether remaining in their seats or lining the walls to dance for the duration of the concert, there seemed a comparable sense of gratification, at least judging by the satiated looks on so many faces, departing in such a hushed manner, out to the unusually subdued Sunday night streets of the Queen City.
Photos by Ross Mickel at Bootleggers Beware
One Response
Two great Fred Tackett songs in that setlist. Great review, as usual.