Lowell George, Little Feat's guitarist (among other things) has developed a distinctive style out of sliding down. The group's music has always been pervaded by that throaty, plaintive, downshifting squeal. George also avoids the obvious, and in the process comes up with titles like "Kiss It Off," "Dixie Chicken" or "Fat Man in the Bathtub" that one doesn't expect to see on any album this side of Captain Beefheart's. He makes these seemingly dadaistic elements work for him in much the same way Van Morrison uses the guttural vocal sound—to scrape the preconceptions and the standard expectations from the listener's mind, to force him to take the song on its own terms.

I keep wanting to compare the group to the Stones, because the music of each is so thoroughly black and white at the same time, and because you have to become aware of and accept the peculiar universe of each group before you can settle down and enjoy what's going on. There's even a rumor, possibly dreamed up by some lonely Little Feat fanatic, that as soon as Mick Jagger got to Los Angeles last year to put together Exile on Main Street, he requested a set of Little Feat LPs for which he expressed a particular fondness. There are, in fact, several tracks on Exile, such as "Shine A Light," "Loving Cup," "Let It Loose," and "Soul Survivor," that have that dense, careening, nearly out-of-control feeling that distinguishes much of Little Feat's music.

On Dixie Chicken, the group seems to have returned the favor, using a number of elements also found on the last Stones LP. They've thickened their sound further, for example, with a female chorus fronted by Bonnie Bramlett, and it works as well as the voices on Exile did. Both groups understand that in order for a device like this to add to rather than detract from their basic music, they have to involve the singers in the sense of the music (Bonnie in particular is great) and assimilate them into the overall sound. This Little Feat do dramatically on the album's first two tracks, "Dixie Chicken" (in which the boys and girls join forces on the chorus—"If you'll be my dixie chicken, I'll be your Tennessee lamb/And we can walk together down in dixieland") and "Two Trains" (on which Bonnie is absolutely inspired). There are plenty of other apt touches, like the carioca-brass sound—probably made by Bill Payne's organ—that adds the indefin