Paul Barrere — the longtime Little Feat linchpin who died on October 26, 2019, at the age of 71 — is the kind of figure who often isn't celebrated in rock & roll: a guitarist and songwriter who quietly elevated and distinguished his surroundings. He wasn't in the first lineup of Little Feat, although it wasn't for lack of trying. Feat's leader Lowell George pushed Barrere, a former Hollywood High classmate of his, to audition as a bassist, claiming "It's easy, there's two less strings." Barrere botched the audition since he didn't feel at ease on bass, but he let Lowell know that if Little Feat ever needed a second guitarist, they should drop him a line. That time arrived in 1972, after bassist Roy Estrada decided to leave, believing he'd have a more stable gig playing with Captain Beefheart than would with the Feats
Decades of steady rolling music from Little Feat have had the effect of making the band seem like an institution, but the band's future was at risk in 1972, thanks to two flop albums and the eccentric nature of Lowell George. He may have been a frontman who didn't think twice about ditching a venue so he could go ice skating — an incident that instigated Estrada's departure — but he did rally when Warner gave the Feats a third and final shot. After once again trying to shoehorn Barrere into the band as a bassist, he conceded Paul would make a better guitarist. Barrere joined Little Feat at roughly the same time Kenny Gradney stepped in on bass and the group added Sam Clayton as a percussionist, an expansion that coincided with George's immersion in New Orleans R&B.
The new lineup and aesthetic were unveiled on Dixie Chicken, the 1973 album that sanded away Little Feats' earthier edges and concentrated on a heady concoction of blues, funk, rock, and soul. Barrere landed a song and lead vocal on Dixie Chicken with "Walkin' All Night," the dirtiest blues on the record, but he soon showed that he had a lighter touch than George. "Skin It Back," his lone vocal on 1974's Feats Don't Fail Me Now, showcased a sly singer who could weave in and out of a percolating rhythm — a skill that concentrated nicely with the gregarious George. "Feats Don't Fail Me Now" — a collaboration between Barrere, George and Martin Kibee — showed that Paul could match Lowell's bawdy humor, but the pair worked best as foils for each other: their guitars engaged in a lithe dance, their voices contrasting and harmonizing with wit and warmth.
All of this interplay can be best heard on Waiting For Columbus, the 1978 double-live LP that showcased both the versatility of Little Feat and the depth of their songbook. On record, the Feats could be a little erratic, due in part to excesses, not all of them deriving from George. Barrere himself partied too hard until well into the 1980s, when he straightened out and found a path forward via a reunited Little Feat. The group disbanded in the wake of George's death in 1979, but they were in the process of splitting up before his passing. Lowell himself stepped away from centerstage sometime during 1975's The Last Record Album, and George told Barrere and keyboardist Bill Payne "I need you guys to take over, at least start to steer" during the Time Loves A Hero sessions, a situation Paul summed up to Feat biographer Ben Fong-Torres as "He wanted us to do more, but he wanted the control." So, Barrere and Payne would write songs — great ones, like "All That You Dream" — and George would sing them, blurring the lines of who contributed what.
This messy situation, combined with George's early death, had the effect of canonizing Lowell George as the great genius of Little Feat: he dreamed up the band, he wrote many of their best songs and sang the lion's share of the tunes. But, as the dense and joyous Waiting For Columbus makes plain, Little Feat never was the result of a single man — it was an intertwined, empathetic band, where each member fed off of the other. Bands still need a frontman, though, and Barrere eventually wound up fulfilling that position.
It took some time, though. First, he had to weather the wilderness in the decade when Little Feat was not a going concern. Straightening himself out from his own excesses, Barrere spent some time playing with Bob "Catfish" Hodge in a combo named the Blues Busters, eventually landing his own solo contract. On My Own Two Feet, his 1983 debut, was an amiable hangover from the 1970s, while its 1984 sequel Real Lies incorporated synths and other hallmarks of the early MTV era. He didn't truly land on his feet until Little Feat reunited in the late '80s. At first, the survivors gathered to play a jam at a Little Feat-themed room at the North Hollywood rehearsal studio the Alley, a one-off that reignited the relationship between Barrere and Payne. Adding Fred Tackett — an auxiliary member during the '70s — as a full-time partner, the group invited Craig Fuller to step into George's shoes, a role initially floated by Payne and Barrere back in 1979, when it seemed like they were going to spin away from Little Feat.
As it turned out, the reunion was no passing thing. They'd never replicate the success of 1988's Let It Roll — Payne always was a bit too eager to steer the group into fusion, so 1990's Representing The Mambo had no song to push on album rock radio — yet their endurance helped prove a point that Little Feat was a group, not just the creation of Lowell George. Fuller left in 1993 and the group brought in Shaun Murphy, their first woman member, who pushed them in a bluesier direction on occasion. During the Murphy years — which lasted a decade and a half--Barrere continued to sing, and he remained the main lead vocalist over the last ten years when the band carried on after the passing of drummer Richie Hayward.
These last three decades are often overlooked by everybody who isn't a diehard Little Feat fan, and that's not just due to the absence of Lowell George. During the 1970s, Little Feat was restless and exploratory, landing upon their fleet yet dextrous funk only through intensive woodshedding and gigging. The music they made then echoed through the jam bands of the 90s and beyond, but during that period, the group didn't explore so much as dig deep into the grooves they etched. It's the kind of music that sounds best on stage but each of the latter-day Feat records — meaning, anything they cut after roughly Representing the Mambo — does have the recognizable Feat sound, thanks in no small part to Barrere. His elegant guitar and playful vocals were as much a part of the band as Lowell George, a realization that comes into sharp relief with his passing.