War: The music is the message

The words still mean something to Lonnie Johnson and War

By Newt Briggs

When War founder and frontman Lonnie Jordan refers to a song, he doesn't just say the title; he sings the chorus. During a recent interview with the Mercury, Jordan sings no less than a half-dozen songs, including "My Boyfriend's Back," "Barbara Ann," "Drift Away," "Hang on Sloopy" and "I Want Candy." At first, it's a little strange to hear a grown man singing pop jingles over the telephone, but for Jordan, the music--even when it departs from his signature fusion of jazz, soul, Latin and funk--has always been an essential part of the message.

It's been that way as far back as Jordan can remember--ever since he and his band partnered with Animals lead singer Eric Burdon to form Eric Burdon and War in 1969. Not long after that, Jordan was writing hot-button political songs like "The World is a Ghetto" and "Slippin' into Darkness." Although Jordan's 'hood--Compton, Calif.--would later spawn a glut of thugs and gangbangers, he used the funk as a bully pulpit for social progress.

"It was a very natural thing back then," he says. "Music wasn't just about getting what's mine and moving on. We were brothers, you know, and we were letting people know about the violence and the drugs and the hate. The music was our weapon. The words were our bullets."

Contrast this with the subsequent incarnations of Compton's musical legacy. Beginning with NWA in the late `80s and continuing with DJ Quik, Snoop Dogg and the like, Compton and its surrounding burgs were enshrined as the epicenter of American street violence.

"All these young kids think they know more than us old folks," Jordan says. "They love to sample our songs, but they don't know the first thing about our message. I'm not saying I blame them for it, but they don't seem to realize that their fans live by everything that they say. They may be out on tour having fun and making a lot of money, but there are kids out there who really are selling dope, doing drive-bys and dying."

But as Jordan notes, War didn't always have to be so heavy; the band often immersed itself in the vitality of the streets. "Low Rider," for example, was born out of a throwaway jam session and a bottle of cactus juice. At the time, the band was working on a documentary about two L.A. lowrider clubs, the Dukes and the Imperials, and the song just sprung out of the project.

"We had the film and all of this music, but we didn't know what kind of lyrics to write," Jordan recalls. "Then Charles Miller, our saxophone player, walked in and told us that he'd just bought a 1952 Chevy lowrider. I'm telling you, it was dropped to the max, and it looked good. So he strutted into the studio with a bottle of tequila and started singing about his new ride, and there it was. It was kind of a joke, I guess. We really didn't think it was that great."

"Low Rider" topped out at No. 7 on the Billboard pop singles chart in 1975, and reappeared on the R&B singles chart a dozen years later. In the last 10 years, it has been used on the soundtracks to 21 Grams, A Knight's Tale, Gone in 60 Seconds, Beverly Hills Ninja and Dazed and Confused. War songs have also been featured on the soundtracks to Boogie Nights ("Spill the Wine"), How High ("The Cisco Kid") and The Mexican ("Why Can't We Be Friends?"). According to Jordan, it's getting to be so that he can hardly turn on the TV without hearing one of his own creations.

"I should really be on the board of ASCAP by now," he says, referring to the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers. "You ask me why I'm always singing. It's because there's always something to sing along with."