When Neil Young sang in 1978, "It's better to burn out than to fade away," he had no way of knowing the conundrum some of his then peers would find themselves in decades later. Still trying to make a go at a life in music long after their leader has gone, many older bands are left to figure out how to continue when a front man burns out but the rest of the group doesn't want to fade away.
Consider Little Feat. The funk and blues group were a critical and moderate commercial success in the '70s. They produced two classic rock staples: "Dixie Chicken" and "Fat Man in a Bathtub." But as band mastermind Lowell George descended into drug abuse in the mid-'70s, other members took his place and directed the band in a more jazz-influenced direction. Unhappy with this move, George quit the group in 1979 and announced that Little Feat was no longer together. He then released a solo album, but died during the accompanying tour from a heart attack.
Without George, the others bounced around the music world, doing session work and touring as sidemen. When some of the original members of Feat decided to regroup in the late '80s, they were faced with an obvious dilemma.
It's a familiar problem. Lynyrd Skynyrd, Journey, Judas Priest, and the Doors, to name a few, have all found themselves in a similar position. Little Feat simply acted as others have done. Hire a remarkable sound- alike and hope that most people don't even notice the original is missing. Four albums and 15 years later, the reconstituted Feat still exist. Sure, their new material is hardly ever noticed, but it is on the road that they thrive. Live, the Feat play their familiar songs, especially the hits, for an appreciative audience every time.
As a chief purveyor of nostalgia, Las Vegas is a haven for all kinds of also-rans who feast upon the easily satiated consumer in pursuit of lost youth. Sha Na Na, who appears at the Sun Coast for three days, emerged in the psychedelic era as a 1950s-styled tribute band that catered to a hippy audience. Made up of Columbia students, they appeared at Woodstock where they played second to last, keeping what remained of the crowd awake for the mind-blowing finale delivered by Hendrix. Hours before the guitarist's searing deconstruction of the American dream, Sha Na Na offered a lighthearted footnote to the events by sending up the way it used to be. Admittedly, they never aspired to be the king, only the court jester.
Sha Na Na flourished through the next decade, hosting a TV variety show from 1977-81, and performing in the movie Grease. But their infamy passed as quickly as Warhol's famed den of excess, Studio 54. When Jon "Bowser" Bauman, their charismatic front man, left in the early '80s, it seemed likely that Sha Na Na would fizzle.
Yet, Sha Na Na continues to tap into the same sort of audience response today that it always has. As such, no single person is larger than the idea. Less than half the current band are original members. As the troupe has aged, they have added slightly younger constituents, ones whose heads still have enough hair to comb into a pompadour. Never mind that the original idea (whatever it was) behind the group has long since transpired and they are nothing now but a memory mill.
In the face of this regurgitated experience, Little Feat has tried to redefine itself as a fan friendly jam band. They also recently hired a female vocalist, negating some of the Lowell George comparisons. Still, the line between being one's own tribute band and something that is alive is a thin one. What is the real difference, for example, between the present-day Glenn Miller Orchestra and Eric Burdon and the "New" Animals? Despite their efforts, Little Feat will always bear more resemblance to Sha Na Na than they would care to admit.