It’s absolutely uncanny to listen to this latest Little Feat album and notice how the stylistic similarities of Strike Up The Band evoke the vintage releases of their namesake lineups from the mid-to-late Seventies.
Implausible as such comparisons may sound, they are wholly apt because neither the musicianship nor the songwriting sounds forced nor fake. On the contrary, this record represents a productivity at which the venerable group only hinted with 2024’s Hot Tomato Records blues collection Sam’s Place.
Then again, the authenticity of Feats circa 2025 should come as no surprise. On the contrary, it’s reasonable to state it is the end result of how this widely-respected and often adored ensemble has simultaneously reconfigured and stabilized its band chemistry in the years since the 2019 passing of long-time guitarist and songwriter Paul Barrere.
Scott Sharrard, a latter-day linchpin in the band of the late Gregg Allman, has become a permanent member as guitarist, songwriter and vocalist, while Tony Leone (late of the Chris Robinson Brotherhood) has likewise joined the fold to assume a seat at the drumkit, a position once held with such distinction by the now-deceased Ritchie Hayward.
Suggesting the abiding bond of these two with their bandmates, Sharrard and Leone are not only pictured in the group photo gracing the gatefold of the album sleeve right alongside Bill Payne (the sole surviving original member of LIttle Feat), Fred Tackett, Sam Clayton and Kenny Gradney, but they also appear in a mirror image of that portrait ingeniously positioned inside the sleeve.
Thus, with front cover artwork by Dick Bangham (deliberate homage to the long-time kindred spirit of The Feats, Neon Park), the graphic design of Strike Up The Band mirrors the continuity of the band’s history as much as the integrity of the current lineup.
The resulting unity isn’t not all that dissimilar from the best-known period of Little Feat’s history, ushered in with the six-man lineup of 1973’s Dixie Chicken.
That’s certainly not to say this LP is that one’s equal, because there are no truly great compositions here. But otherwise, the record does contain most of the essential elements of the band’s inimitable style, including the cracked sense of humor for which Feats are famous.
On the opener that is “4 Days of Heaven and Three Days of Work,” Sharrard’s slide guitar slithers around the arrangement over a stuttering rhythm Leone nails down, while the horns of saxophonist Art Edmiston and trumpeter Marc Franklin pump right along behind them.
It’s all familiar and infectious enough to wish the lyrics were included to facilitate singing along. Jubilant as is “Bayou Mama,” Payne’s songwriting collaboration with Blackberry Smoke’s Charlie Starr, is even more of the same (albeit a bit guardedly so): Clayton’s percussion pops repeatedly in time with Gradney’s bass, while the keyboardist unfurls long swaths of sound from the organ to encircle them.
As high a profile as he’s assumed, Sharrard doesn’t shy from the spotlight. On his own original “Shipwrecks,” for instance, his bluesy vocal sounds as deeply passionate as his careening up and down the fretboard of his guitar. Clearly, he’s learned his lessons well, from the ABB namesake in addition to his current bandmates via their own redoubtable legacy.
Accordingly, the next cut of his, “Midnight Flight,” is a worthy successor to “Oh, Atlanta” off the 1974 Little Feat release Feats Don’t Fail Me Now, Kristen Rogers’ background vocals and more punchy horns bounce over the roiling rhythms, on a selection ideally positioned in the carefully-paced track sequence (via co-producer/engineer Vance Powell?).
Powell, who’s worked in the studio with the diverse likes of Phish and Chris Stapleton, shares session supervision duties with Payne (while Sharrard supervises his own numbers). And, like the additional guests on Strike Up The Band, his presence is neither superfluous nor extraneous to the proceedings.
Quite the contrary, for Larkin Poe becomes fully aligned with the sextet on the title song without diluting the personality of anyone involved. As do Molly Tuttle, Larry Campbell and Teresa Williams on “Bluegrass Pines” (co-written by Payne and Robert Hunter). Tackett’s mandolin spices up the former, while Tuttle’s acoustic guitar on the latter preserves the understated mood from the preceding selection.
Running a little less than four minutes, “Disappearing Ink,” is a comparatively abbreviated interlude within this just over an hour total playing time. Still, the unit might well have stretched out a bit on Tackett’s “Love And Life (Never Fear),” then segued directly into the appropriately-named hijinks of “Dance A Little.”
Meantime, Leone’s “Running Out of Time with the Blues” may be a little too reminiscent of “Old Folks Boogie” off 1977’s Time Loves A Hero. But as the penultimate cut here, it does cement the overriding impression of this incarnation of Little Feat drawing ever so artfully upon the roots of the band, without sounding derivative.
As if any further such ratification was necessary, validation arrives via the closing of “New Orleans Cries When She Sings.” Playing off contemplative sections at the beginning and the end with a syncopated romp at the center, this knowing gesture of solidarity with the Crescent City also functions as an expression of pride on the part of these six musicians who so credibly honor the mantle of the band whose name they have assumed.
