On The Party Life with Little Beaver
A brief word on Little Beaver, who briefly channeled the pure essence of kicking back into a terrific party-themed record, perfect for any and all chill occasions.
So you’re having a thing.
You know the sort — not quite a gathering but far from a party. You’re not serving dinner, they’re not leaving at 9. Nobody has work in the morning, and you’re liable to talk shit ‘til the early hours. At some point, the playlist lapses. You’re outta queues, outta ideas, and outta luck. In this moment you think, “what’s a dependable hangout record I could throw on right now?” Well, before you search any further, have you considered getting into the party life?
I was getting into the party life just the other night, walking through the city as I headed home from work. I turned in sometime around half-past-ten, which is more than I can say for my neighbours, who lounged on their balcony and listened to some pulsing EDM for an hour or so. That’s their prerogative — yes, even on a Wednesday night — but I couldn’t help but feel their mellow evening was at odds with their pumping music. In their shoes, I’d be throwing up some Little Beaver.
Little Beaver — that’s guitarist Willie Hale — was born in Arkansas in the dying days of World War II. His large childhood teeth supposedly inspired the nickname; his virtuosic guitar skill certainly built his reputation. On moving to Miami in the mid-’60s, Hale joined nightclub act The Rocketeers. Posters promised “classy, crowd-pleasing routines [and] six lavish uniform changes,” their variety of repertoires “perfect for any age group.”
The outfit came to the attention of Willie Clarke, co-founder of nascent Miami label Deep City, who brought their live energy to a studio setting. Their first single, “You Got To Be A Man,” spotlight’s Little Beaver’s searing vocal, the track landing like James Brown tearing through an early take of Prince’s “Kiss.” The troupe recorded frequently for Willie Clarke, whose central role in Miami — the in-house band for T.K. Records — likely introduced Little Beaver to the label.
Party Down, Little Beaver’s third LP, followed a soul-tinged R&B record, a guitar-oriented instrumental record, and a solid string of 7” singles. His debut, 1972’s Joey, shuffled between lovelorn blues joints and extended string-laden soul sagas; his sophomore release, 1974’s Black Rhapsody, linked forefather tributes and nimble pop-soul covers. Though it arrived mere months after Rhapsody, Party Down speaks to a totally different world.
That world runs up and down the lamplit beachfront of Miami-Dade, from waterfront parties and teeming nightclubs to quiet condos and cozy balconies. The opening notes of “Party Down, Pt. 1” usher in a new funk, the intimate ambience of friendly conversation underwriting Beaver’s silky reassurances: “Hey baby… come on down… you don’t have to be shy… we’re just partying down… yeah, we’re gonna have big fun.”
It’s that clear contention that runs throughout Party Down, with even the single detour — the lyrically serious “Money Vibrations” — still taking groovy cues from Sly Stone. That delicate balance of mood and meaning never falters, though it easily could. The emphasis falls on atmosphere, the soft arrangements permeating a carefree euphoria. The instruments are the essentials; the vocals lace them with light, laidback lyrics.
In this way, Party Down makes strengths of Hale’s comparative weaknesses, fostering a loose mood befitting his unrefined vocal. Where once was lofty narrative and heightened stakes sits only sun-kissed hedonism, unobjectionable and all but universally appealing. On “I Can Dig It Baby,” he throws out a laundry list of likes — going out, hanging about, having fun, playing along, ladies sporting tight dresses and spreading a free sort of love — though the entire record can be taken as Beaver’s own utopian revelry.
“Get Into The Party Life” features lyrics so straightforward as “I like the party life / The big city and bright lights / The pretty girls dressed in the skin-tight / Lovers gettin' it on, all through the night,” and “Let The Good Times Roll” concerns itself with “getting high and having fun, and doing nobody no wrong.” In the latter, Beaver lets out an idle aside — “oh, look at the people party down!” That’s all it is. There’s nothing more to it. It’s radical simplicity, enduringly relatable and ever contagious.
I suppose that’s what makes it the perfect soundtrack to a quiet, friendly night. It’s all in the preface to “Get Into The Party Life”—
“Nothing in the world makes me sadder than to see a lonely person
’Cause with all the poverty, heartbreaks, and heartaches
Ups and downs, and phony smiles, and envious frowns
There's still a lot of love and happiness to be found
All you gotta do is… party down”