Richie Hayward, 2

I am thinking about my friend Richie, and remembering. He once told me that as a child he had seen Sonny Payne on TV, probably with the Basie band. Sonny's cymbals flashed in the light, and mesmerized that little boy watching in Iowa. Over the years, whenever I recognized a particular cymbal sound and style on a recording, I knew I was hearing Richie play. I'd check the credits, and yup, that was him. When Little Feat broke up after Lowell George died, I thought that was the end of it, but one day, years later, I was driving in upstate NY, and a new song exploded from my radio. The singer was unfamiliar, I had never heard the tune before, but it was Richie on the drums, I just knew it, and that's how I learned the band had reformed.

He had what I think of as the performing artist's temperament, that combination of confidence and self-doubt that leads us into trouble and the dark, but also allows us to set foot into the pool of light on the stage and drives us, whether we are musicians, actors, or dancers to strive to be better every time than we were the last time. 

In the 70s I was married for a few years to a terrific drummer, from whom I learned a lot, so when I heard Richie, I  knew I was hearing something unique. To this day, I don't think there is anyone who captures the particular blend of musical influences he netted - swing, New Orleans second line, funk, country, southern rock - or mixes up quite the relentless groove that was his trademark. It breathed, that groove, like a living thing. Some of the LIttle Feat concerts I attended over the years are among the best I have ever experienced, and when I was asked to sit in, oh boy, I could hardly bear how my face hurt from smiling so much. The whole band was/is terrific, but this day I am thinking of my friend, of his kindness and humor and passion for the music. Of his wife Shauna and family, with whom he seemed to have found deep happiness at last. And I am thinking of the beat - and the backbeat, and the flashing cymbals - that were Richie Hayward at his best. One in a million. Out chorus, coda. R.I.P.