Colección Latina by War: A Raw, Funky Fiesta That Still Slaps
Alright, let’s get into it. War’s Colección Latina dropped in ‘97 and hit hard like a bassline you can’t ignore. This album is straight-up soul with some salsa sprinkled on top, mixing R&B vibes, Latin rock grit, and brown-eyed soul smoothness. Avenue Records put this beast out for both the US and Europe, but honestly? It feels universal. Like, borderless. The kind of record that makes you wanna grab a drink, crank up the volume, and just move.
Now, I’m not gonna lie—there are tracks here that feel repetitive if you listen to the whole thing front-to-back (yeah, looking at you, multiple versions of "Don't Let No One Get You Down"). But when they nail it, man, they REALLY nail it. Two songs stuck in my head like gum under a shoe: “Low Rider” (Español) and “East L.A.” (Remix featuring José Feliciano).
First off, “Low Rider (Español)” slaps so hard it should come with a warning label. Whether it's the Fantasma Mix or Mijangos Progressive version, it doesn’t matter—the groove is undeniable. There’s something about hearing those iconic lines in Spanish that flips the script entirely. It ain’t just a cover; it’s a cultural remix, and it hits different. You’re cruising down the highway, windows down, blasting this joint while dodging potholes because life suddenly feels cinematic. And yeah, maybe your Spanish pronunciation sucks, but who cares? This track turns everyone into an honorary Latino for three minutes.
Then there’s “East L.A.,” especially the remix with José Feliciano. Dude brings his guitar wizardry and elevates the vibe to another level. It’s got that old-school funk energy mixed with Latin percussion that punches you right in the chest. José adds this raspy vocal layer that feels raw and real, like he’s telling stories over rum and late-night laughter. I mean, how do you NOT remember this one? Every time it plays, it’s impossible not to picture neon lights reflecting off wet streets somewhere in East Los Angeles circa 1975. It’s nostalgia bottled up and poured over ice.
Look, this album isn’t perfect. Some tracks drag, others repeat themselves unnecessarily, but damn if it doesn’t have personality leaking out of every pore. It’s messy, unapologetic, and alive in ways most modern albums wish they could be. And honestly, isn’t that what music’s supposed to be? Not polished corporate nonsense, but a sweaty, chaotic celebration?
Here’s the kicker though: listening to Colección Latina, you realize War wasn’t trying to reinvent the wheel—they were just reminding us why we fell in love with it in the first place. So next time someone says funk is dead or soul has no future, slap this album on and watch them eat their words. Or better yet, don’t bother explaining—just turn it louder.
