In the ’70s, the hits of War were everywhere. From car radios, stereo systems and street parties poured songs like “Cisco Kid “Low Rider” and “Why Can’t We Be Friends?” hits that, together, helped define the disco decade. But in hindsight, War’s singles only gave a hint of the character and texture of their full albums. In fact, few bands experienced such a disconnect between the songs radio favored and their larger body of work.
War’s best-known songs were terse, catchy and fun, as all great singles should be. But their albums went another way, achieving something elaborate, challenging and deep. Where War’s hits had an accessibility that allowed them to reflect the life of anyone who listened, their albums spoke of specific lives that came from a particular sensibility and place.
The broad catalogue War created during their ’70s prime captured the essence of Los Angeles areas like Compton and Long Beach, places where many of the band’s members either grew up or moved to. The members also reflected the ethnicities in those areas, bringing together Latin, African-American and Caucasian players. In a parallel way, War’s sound combined Latin-jazz, funk, pop and rock. The amalgam arrived just as Afro-Cuban influences were enjoying a fresh surge in music, in acts from Santana and Malo to Mandrill and the Fania All-Stars. While all those groups had distinct sounds, War’s was, perhaps, the most finely-attuned to the groove.
Their deep tracks favored riffs that moved laterally, as an array of soloists took flight above. No fewer than four of their members improvised with distinction, including the Danish-born harmonica player Lee Oskar, sax and flute man Charles Miller, guitarist Howard Scott and keyboardist Lonnie Jordan. Providing their defining foundation was the three-way rhythm section, comprised of bassist B.B. Dickerson, drummer Harold Ray Brown and percussionist “Papa Dee” Allen. Though instrumental sections ate up huge chunks of War’s music, their approach to vocals also played a key role. All seven members sang, often in unison, giving their voices a purpose while simultaneously covering for a flaw. Though all the members had solid voices, none had the pre-eminence of the greatest front men. Singing together gave them extra power. More, their blend of voices gave the music the feel of a neighbourhood in conversation.
That vibe had great symbolic resonance in a place, and at a time, when gang-activity drove many locals apart. The music of War demonstrated the power of unity over division. Heard in that context, hits like “Why Can’t We Be Friends,” “Summer and “Low Rider” became peace pipes, connecting the inner city, rather than mere party anthems for the suburbs
During their prime, between 1970 and ’77, this West Coast colossus amassed no fewer than eight gold albums, as well as two platinum sets (both hits collections). They also enjoyed seven Top Ten Billboard singles; Twelve of their songs made the Top 40.
War scored its first chart smash—the Top Five “Spill the Wine” before they even solidified as the group they would become. On their first two album, they backed a singer who was already a star, Eric Burdon of The Animals. The British-born vocalist, along with veteran producer Jerry Goldstein, discovered the musicians during a club show in L.A. and, afterwards, proposed a collaboration. The resulting collection, ‘Eric Burdon Declares War” released in April of 1970, had the feel of a band finding its footing. But the looseness created its own distinction. The album consisted mainly of long, evolving jams. The seven-minute “Vision of Rassan” tipped a hat to avant-garde jazz player Rassan Roland Kirk, while the title of another piece, “Blues for Memphis Slim” made its inspiration just as plain. Not that either song sounded like the music of the artists they name-dropped. Both stressed hard funk, created by the rhythm section, while the soloists riffed and Burdon offered his own mix of rapping and singing. It was a summery, loopy, and sexy sound, indulgent to be sure but with a real feel for the beat.
Their follow-up, Eric Burdon & WAR released under the tongue-in-cheek title ‘The Black-Man’s Burdon” offered unrecognizable improvisations on the Stones’ “Paint It Black and the Moody Blues “Nights in White Satin” A double set, ‘Burdon’ was even more undisciplined than its predecessor, but it had more speed and variety on its side. Though both albums made the Top Thirty, Burdon wound up ditching the group during a European tour, inadvertently freeing them to find their own voice.
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The Fat Angel Sings 