Chicapah The 70s version of Little Feat peaked in 1974 with their outstanding “Feats Don’t Fail Me Now” album. That entire disc literally bristles with enthusiasm and irresistible charm. But in the years that followed it became obvious that things weren’t exactly utopian inside the confines of the group dynamic and the stress was systematically eroding their mojo. When “Time Loves a Hero” finally hit the bins in May of 1977 I bought it in hopes that it would prove that their previous LP, “The Last Record Album,” had been nothing but a slight detour from greatness and they’d come charging back as thrilling as before. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. It’s no lemon by any means because there are excellent moments to be savored here and there due to their superb musicianship but it never delivers the knockout punch. If anything, it shines a bright and revealing light on Little Feat’s ongoing internal dissention, a lesion that had been festering for several years and was starting to adversely affect their music.

Since gossip about less-than-high-profile bands such as this one was practically non-existent in those days except for small blurbs appearing in rags like Rolling Stone, we fans of the Feat had no idea that they weren’t getting along fabulously. We weren’t aware that lead singer/slide guitar virtuoso Lowell George was battling a debilitating drug addiction or that he was becoming more and more unstable/unreliable in his role as leader of the pack. In fact, his personal war of afflictions was causing the other members to have to step up, take charge and develop the new material necessary to keep things rolling along and therein lies a major problem. Their tunes were just not as good as what Lowell had come up with in the group’s formative years and no amount of top-notch production, arranging and/or studio expertise could make an average song excel beyond its inherent weaknesses. In other words, “Time Loves a Hero” is as good as they could possibly make it but they couldn’t possibly make it great.

They open with guitarist Paul Barrere’s tune, “Hi Roller,” that had been left off the preceding album. But, as the liner notes for that disc indicated, the band had promised to include it the next time around and they were now making good on that vow. Perhaps they should’ve held onto it as a bonus cut on a future “Greatest Hits” compilation for, despite its perky funk groove and some punchy horns courtesy of Tower of Power, it’s rather ordinary and a bit dated. The invigorating instrumental middle section makes the track soar briefly and Bill Payne’s growling Hammond B3 organ bestows upon it some beefy balls but it falls well short of dazzling the senses. Perhaps the lyrics offer a telltale peek inside their quarrelsome lair. “Blind alleys and dead ends/it’s a lousy shipwreck,” George sings. The title song is next and its lazy Latin feel paves the number a smooth path to follow with some nice accents interspersed to give it low sparks but overall it’s too laid back to generate any heat. Lowell’s only unassisted songwriting contribution to the album follows in the form of “Rocket in my Pocket.” It’s a typical George concoction in that it contains plenty of odd quirks to set it apart from the regular riff-raff heard on the FM radio dials of that age yet it’s no “Dixie Chicken,” either. It just never finds its focus and thusly is doomed to being easily forgotten.

One of the main sources of disagreement between Lowell and the rest of the boys was that the majority were becoming more and more intrigued by and drawn to the world of jazz/rock fusion whereas he wanted to continue to emphasize their eclectic rock & roll attitude. Therefore, on Payne’s adventurous instrumental, “Day at the Dog Races,” there’s not a trace of Mr. George to be found. Bill’s synthesized Spanish guitar intro is clever and once the band roars into the complex rhythms of the piece they prove conclusively that they’re more than capable of pulling this sort of thing off with aplomb. Barrere injects some admirable guitarisms into the furious jam but it’s Payne’s keyboard acumen that steals the show on this six and a half minute excursion. Paul’s “Old Folks Boogie” is the coolest song on the record. It has a glorious funk/rock foundation provided by drummer Ritchie Hayward and bassist Ken Gradney and also features what was once one of their trademarks: wry humor. “And ya know/that you’re over the hill/when your mind makes a promise/that your body can’t fill,” Lowell smirks. Bill’s raucous barroom piano is a fun treat, as well.

Payne’s “Red Streamliner” is a rocker that comes off a whole lot more like a Doobie Brothers deal than a Little Feat ditty, thanks in no small part to both Patrick Simmons and Michael McDonald lending their inimitable voices to the choral refrains in the background. It’s not a bad tune but it sounds as if they made it too complex for its own welfare and it loses vital momentum on more than one occasion. The group evidently found it necessary to go outside the fold for extra material as evidenced by their covering renegade country writer Terry Allen’s “New Delhi Freight Train.” It’s a strange combo of a funk, rock and C&W mentality that only works part of the time. Other than a strong, full chorus it doesn’t make much of an impression. On Barrere and George’s “Keepin’ Up With the Joneses” the group’s anemic lack of excitement seeps through the otherwise tight track, robbing it of all energy and purpose. One gets the feeling that the band had, by then, lowered its standards to a “good enough for jazz” level instead of challenging themselves to reach for the sky. Thankfully, they end on a positive note by presenting Paul’s simple country/folk song, “Missin’ You.” Even though it’s no more than acoustic guitar and vocal, it’s the album’s finest moment in that it really brings to the forefront Lowell’s expressive and uncompromising voice. Short but very, very sweet.

Sadly, this was to be Lowell George’s last complete LP with Little Feat before he suffered a heart attack and passed away in June of 1979. (Note: He would appear on several studio cuts included in “Down on the Farm,” released after his death.) By the end of the tour that supported this album he had pretty much disassociated himself from the group and soon after began a solo career but he will forever be identified with Little Feat. The discouraged survivors parted company for a while but they eventually reformed and honorably carried on the band’s legacy for decades, creating some excellent music along the way. In summation, “Time Loves a Hero” is like a fancy wedding cake that appears to be perfectly constructed but has nothing in it to tantalize the taste buds. It’s far from being their finest hour yet it doesn’t soil their reputation as consummate professionals who always did the best they could with what they had.