Earth, Wind & Fusion

Riding the wave of Earth, Wind & Fire's success, Maurice White invested himself in several jazz-fusion albums during the second half of the 1970s. A survey.

Flashback. In 1968, the name Maurice White was not yet known to the general public, but he was already hard at work in the Chess Records studios, where he served as the house drummer, as well as the drummer for the Ramsey Lewis Trio. Recorded two years after their hit “Wade in the Water,” Maiden Voyage—in addition to a delicious rendition featuring Minnie Riperton’s voice on “Les Fleurs” (sic), which the singer would re-record in late 1969 for her debut album (see “Earth, Wind & Women”)—showcased the arrangements of the future key figure of Earth, Wind & Fire, Charles Stepney. Even after leaving the Ramsey Lewis Trio, Maurice White always remained close to Lewis, notably supervising several of the pianist’s albums between 1974 and 1977, on which the kinship with the music of Earth, Wind & Fire is more than evident. The records featured soaring, lush, and psychedelic renditions of Herbie Hancock’s instant classic that gives the album its title (as well as the Beatles’ “Lady Madonna” and Bob Dylan’s “Mighty Quinn”).

As for the second album by jazz-fusion group Caldera, Sky Islands, it was co-produced by a prominent member of Earth, Wind & Fire, keyboardist Larry Dunn, alongside his colleague Eduardo (or Eddie) Del Barrio. Proud of his work, Dunn played the tapes for Maurice White. Deeply impressed by the music, White immediately invited Del Barrio to work on their new album, All ‘N’ All. The result? Read the credits of “Fantasy,” the solid-gold hit from All ‘N’ All, very carefully. (A young singer had also participated on Sky Islands: Dianne Reeves.)

Finally, one must revisit “And Then” by Weather Report, once “hidden” at the end of side two of the LP Mr. Gone—a truly extraordinary track, if only for the combined presence of the musicians who populate it: Joe Zawinul, composer of genius, master of polychromatic keyboards, judicious distiller of sweet, chiaroscuro melancholy; Wayne Shorter, as lunar and lyrical as ever; Jaco Pastorius, of course, his electric bass nothing but expertly contained feline rage; Steve Gadd, passing through, and flawless as usual; and then, surprise—the fairy-like voice of soulwoman Deniece Williams and the Joe Zawinul of Earth, Wind & Fire, so to speak, Maurice White, also on vocals. A fine assembly gathered for one and only one occasion within the four walls of a recording studio, which—with such dreamers inside—itself became an instrument in its own right.