Why can’t we be friends? Let me count the ways…
First of all, sorry for my intermittent posting this week — it’s been a very busy first week of summer vacation. That is, once my sons are home all day, my free time seems to dwindle exponentially. But it’s not just that: we’re preparing for a summer vacation (Ireland!), so there’s a lot to do before that happens. And it’s not going to get a lot better over the next few weeks — I suspect that I may be reduced to no more than (and occasionally less than) 3 posts per week. So fear not: I’m still here, just a bit less able to get the posts in. I expect things will get better in the second half of the summer — your patience, and continued readership, will be greatly appreciated. Now on to today’s post…
I haven’t necessarily given the subject exhaustive thought, but it would be hard to imagine that there is a better song to crank up loudly in your car with the windows rolled down on a hot, early-summer day than War’s “Low Rider,” from their 1975 album, Why Can’t We Be Friends? As soon as that cowbell starts knocking and that drum roll starts a-rollin’, you know you’re in for a few minutes of the greatest Latin funk known to the Western world. Even if you’re only driving, say, a 2001 Subaru Forester down the highway, you can nearly feel the car’s suspension bouncing as your head bobs in time to the bass line — “Low Rider” can turn any car into a lean, mean, low-riding machine. It’s quite remarkable, really. There definitely seems to be some sort of ’70s automotive magic embedded in this song. There’s a musical magic, at any rate — driving-song perfection like this has rarely been attained since.
