Sept. 10, 2010

Richie Hayward played drums like his life depended on it. Now that life is over. It was liver cancer, August 12, 2010; he was 64. Anyone who knew him, or saw or heard him play, knew he was a great drummer. His unique sound and style were part of what made Little Feat a great band.

He had other gigs, but nothing quite suited his style as well, as long, or as creatively, as his years with Little Feat. Like Richie and his drumming, and like Lowell George, the band’s founder and main songwriter, Little Feat was unique. It makes sense to appreciate Richie Hayward and Little Feat as a matched pair.

The band I got to know was the six-member group that made “Dixie Chicken” and “Feats Don’t Fail Me Now” in the mid-70’s. They never had a radio hit, but they toured extensively and attracted a loyal fan base. They were popular, because they rocked, and enjoyed rocking. They were also quite serious about what they were doing musically.

I’ve often thought of them as an odd West Coast counterpoint to the Allman Brothers. It’s interesting to list their common traits: both bands were biracial, used two drummers (with congas and percussion being broadly categorized as drums), contained two lead guitarists and some magnificent slide playing, featured a blues-based lead singer, and made crowds happy with their improvised jams. Oh yes, and some motorcycle accidents took their toll on both bands, although Richie survived his.

I’m from Georgia, but I lived in California, so I can relate to the cultural setting of both bands. In fact I can claim to have been onstage with both, although the moment I spent onstage with the Allman Brothers was a bare wisp of 60’s summer smoke, a brief moment in Piedmont Park during a “jam” that no one remembers, at least I hope not. My time onstage with Little Feat is another story, and truly one of the great musical and cultural adventures of my life, partially covered in a previous article available on this site. (see archives, New and Old Orleans)

My adventure was touring with John Hall during the spring of 1978, when he was the opening act for Little Feat. As the tour progressed, those of us in the openign act got to know the guys in Feat better. After a few weeks, Lowell George began inviting John and members of his band onstage for certain parts of the show. My big moment was playing a sax solo on “Old Folks Boogie,” right before Paul Barrere’s guitar solo. I can remember Bill Payne, their keyboard player, holding out his arm in an elegant gesture of acknowledgement after I played. I can also remember a great monitor mix, and being close enough to Richie to feel like I was standing next to a volcano.

During that spring tour, I spent more time watching and listening to Little Feat than playing with them, and I came to appreciate their professionalism, their groove, their sound, their whole creative enterprise. Much of it came down to Lowell George’s persona, his singing and his idiosyncratic songwriting, but much of it was also a reaction to him, other guys in the band heading in deliberately different directions, like Bill Payne’s fusion experiments, or extensions of the same direction, like Paul Barrere’s own singing, writing, and slide playing.

The rhythmic foundation of this complex formula remained Richie’s drumming.

Richie Hayward was one of those people that really fits the description “intense.” You could feel it being around him, the tension in his muscles, the energy that needed to be released. If he was holding his drums sticks, he would be gripping them tightly, twisting his hands as if he might break them. That energy came out in some fiery playing.

His playing was always articulate and exact, but it was also fluid and imaginative. When I watched him onstage with Little Feat, I got the impression of a daredevil riding a motorcycle way over the speed limit. It seems he was always in the moment, always thinking, always pushing to come up with something unexpected. Although he always played the groove, he also improvised, with sudden accents and fills that added spice. He was loose, and he was funky. He was happening.

As it turned out, that tour in 1978 was the band’s last with Lowell. He started a solo career that year, releasing a solo album. It was during the 1979 tour to promote that album that Lowell George died, in classic rock’n’roll form, a heart attack from too many drugs.

The band formed again in 1988, with singer Craig Fuller and guitarist Fred Tackett recruited to replace Lowell. Bill and Paul remained the main writers, and Richie was back as their drummer.

But he also played other gigs. I can remember when Jo-El Sonnier, the wild Louisiana accordianist and singer did an album back in the 80’s, and Richie ended up playing with him. He did a tour with Joan Armatrading, and Robert Plant. And apparently also played with Al Kooper.

It was a few days after hearing about Richie’s death that I received a photo as an email attachment, a picture of me onstage at a club in L.A. with Al Kooper and a bunch of other musicians. The drummer looked like Richie, but I wasn’t sure. His face was contorted and hard to recognize, but the contorted face was consistent with Richie’s style. I had played with Al in a few different settings, so I knew it was some time in the 80’s. I couldn’t really remember the gig, but I wanted to find out what I could.

The bass player was Hutch Hutchinson, a guy I knew in L.A. back then, who has been playing with Bonnie Raitt most of the last 20 years. It was Hutch who had sent the photo to George Marinelli, and George had forwarded it to me. I asked George if that was Richie Hayward in the picture. He said he didn’t know, but Hutch would know. He gave me Hutch’s email. Hutch knew everyone’s name, and even the name of the photographer, who was a friend of Al Kooper. And it was Richie on drums.

I couldn’t ask for a better representation of my own nearly forgotten past. We all know how often photographs don’t turn out well. Here is one that turned out better than I could have imagined, a great black and white image of me, looking fairly innocent up there with some folks who’ve seen the darker side of rock’n’roll.

I’m glad I got to play with Richie Hayward. I’m glad he got to play drums. I hope he was happy. He sure put a lot into playing the drums, and a lot came out.

-BC 13Sept10