“September,” “Getaway,” “Fantasy,” and “After the Love Has Gone,” White was busy down below redefining the 16th-note with soulful syncopations and melodic, pocket-perfect pickups that have since become an indelible part of the bass lexis.

Yet, while he may stand shoulder to lofty shoulder with such funk figureheads as Larry Graham, Bootsy Collins, the Meters’ George Porter Jr., and Tower Of Power’s Rocco Prestia—as well as with single-band innovators like the Who’s John Entwistle and Yes’s Chris Squire—Verdine White is a down-to-earth delight. Exuberant and gracious, with a smile as wide as his groove, he’s not unlike a considerate and valued neighbor. That is, if you live in Cary Grant’s old Los Angeles neighborhood, where White resides in a house built in 1919. Married to wife Mashelle for 26 years, Verdine enjoys yoga, walking his five dogs, and shopping at Barney’s “to keep my wardrobe together.”

White’s main passion, however, is Earth, Wind & Fire. From the band’s ’70s and early-’80s halcyon days, to a four-year break in the late ’80s, to lukewarm attempts to re-establish themselves via four CDs in the ’90s and 2003, White has stayed the course, and it seems to have paid off. Illumination, the group’s 23rd album, is a masterstroke, merging such Old School-savvy hip-hop and neo-soul artists as Raphael Saadiq, Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis, the Black Eyed Peas’ will.i.am, Floetry, and Organized Noize with the current EWF lineup, led by founding members Verdine, Philip Bailey, Ralph Johnson, and Verdine’s brother Maurice. The result is a re-energized and sonically transformed twist on the band’s trademark vocal-and-horn sound, White’s most vibrant and inventive bass playing since the ’80s, and best of all, some darn good songs (including the first single, “Pure Gold,” and four more in recently released or upcoming major movies). Enthuses Verdine, “For us, it was exciting to have the opportunity to peek into the creative process of some of today’s artists. On the flip side, who better to help these artists lead the second revolution of R&B musicians playing real instruments than us?”

White’s own musical training ground was rife with veteran leadership. Born in Chicago, Illinois on July 25, 1951, Verdine was raised on the recordings of Miles Davis, John Coltrane, and other jazz greats, spun by his dad, Verdine Sr., a doctor who also played saxophone. White found additional musical stimuli through the radio sounds of Motown and the Beatles, as well as through two brothers who were drummers. At age 15, he spotted an upright bass in his high school orchestra class. “It just spoke to me,” he recalls. “So I chose bass. Soon after, I got a red electric bass, too. My dad and Maurice suggested I take private lessons and really learn the instruments.” White studied the Bille double bass method with Radi Velah of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, and on weekends he took electric bass lessons with Chess Records session bassist and trombonist Louis Satterfield, who would later become a member of Earth, Wind & Fire’s famed horn section, the Phenix Horns. Gravitating more toward his newly bought Fender Telecaster Bass than the upright, Verdine began working the local club scene with bands like the True Sounds, and made his first recording with Kitty Haywood, “Mama’s Baby Ain’t a Baby No More.” Meanwhile, brother Maurice, who was a session drummer at Chess and a member of pianist Ramsey Lewis’s trio, had formed the Salty Peppers, scoring a local hit that caught the ears of Capitol Records. In early 1970 Maurice moved to Los Angeles, hoping to record the group, which he had re-named Earth, Wind & Fire. Seeking to expand the band and abolish the borders between musical genres, Maurice soon summoned Verdine to fill the bass chair. On June 6, 1970, White arrived in Los Angeles, in no way aware that he was about to help make musical and bass history.

What were some early bass influences that helped form your style?
Well, I was way hip to James Jamerson and Paul McCartney, and on the classical side, Gary Karr—I saw him on a TV show in duet with Richard Davis. The local upright player I checked out in a big way was Cleveland Eaton. But everything I learned and know on the bass guitar is from the late Louis Satterfield. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Satt. He played bass on a lot of Chess recordings with Maurice, like “Rescue Me” by Fontella Bass, and he had a style all his own from being a jazz trombonist. I would describe it as almost like a lead bass, but always holding the groove. Satt taught me scales and modes, 6/8 and 7/4 time—all kinds of stuff that opened up my mind. He played a Fender Telecaster Bass and an Ampeg B-15, so that’s exactly what I bought. And, of course, Maurice had a huge influence on my playing, being a great session drummer.

When do you feel your style first locked in, and were there any breakout tracks?
My style came together much faster than it probably would have, right from our first record [Earth, Wind & Fire], because of Maurice. His ears are huge—he hears everything—so he would say, take this out there or play this here. And ’Rice is very spontaneous, so whatever we used to rehearse, when we got to the studio, he would totally change it! I learned to think on my feet quickly and to not get attached to any rehearsed parts. That said, we had the time to be indulgent; we were recording 12 hours a day, so I was able to try different ideas and be relaxed—there was no “red light syndrome.” As for early tracks, I thought “Energy,” from our second album [The Need of Love], was a breakthrough song for me, even though it was a ten-minute avant-funk jam. Another was the live version of “Yearnin’ Learnin’” [from Gratitude; the studio version appears on That’s the Way of the World].

A key element to your style is your use of pickups, with melodic or chromatic passing tones.
For me, it’s like dancing on the bass. You want to dance up to the one, or to the next downbeat—or even on the next downbeat. And I always like to be aware of the chord qualities and the progression, so I can pick certain notes out of the chord or find an interesting way to get to the next chord. To be honest, my training was so concentrated early on that it occurs naturally for me now; I don’t think about it. But if I look back, I can credit moves that Satt gave me, hearing upright jazz bassists, and coaching from Maurice and [EWF co-producer/arranger] Charles Stepney.

How would you say your style has evolved?
Early on, in the band, I just wanted to hear bass, bass, bass—the perils of youth! But as I began to admire and appreciate vocalists and songwriting, my playing became more focused and melodic. More important, I progressed as a musician and a listener. Once I realized the song was king, I didn’t worry so much about the bass notes.

How do you come up with your bass parts?
As I said, I’m fortunate to have always been in a special situation: playing great songs, with plenty of time to prepare and record. Generally, I get the songs in advance, so I can listen while I’m shaving or driving around. Listening first—that’s the key. When I get to the studio, I like to do five to ten different takes and keep them all, because even if a take isn’t happening, it may have some magic in it. From there, I’ll pick out sections from each take to form the final part, or I’ll record some more parts incorporating what I liked from those takes. To me, recording is all about space, and I think what made the classic EWF albums successful is we each found our place in those songs—where to shine and where to lay back. Beyond that, I always try to find the center of the track: that certain space among all the other instruments and vocals where I can grab on and hold it all together. If you play off center, or play too many notes, it all falls apart and you don’t even hear the bass anymore.

Can you discuss your technique?
Playing with precision, so you can really hear the notes, is important to me. I pluck with my index and middle fingers alternating, digging in with a heavy touch. I also use a lot of index pops or hard plucks, but I rarely use any thumb slaps. I do grab octaves or chords by plucking with my thumb and index fingers, and I like to use harmonics. I mute notes with a combination of my right and left hands. Generally, I’ve found that live, you have more freedom to try out different techniques, but in the studio you have to find the best way to cut through sonically, which can mean, say, plucking a double-stop instead of strumming it.

What’s your approach to the groove and playing with drummers?
My first commandment is to hold the groove; you have to hold it down. I normally play on top of the beat, so I’m always conscious—particularly in this era of hip-hop tempos and feels—of trying to lay back and sit down a bit. Drum-wise, the snare and the kick are most important for me. Obviously my earliest hookup was with Maurice, whose feel is right down the middle. Beginning in the mid ’70s, my brother Fred came aboard for a dozen years, with a similar feel. The great Sonny Emory stayed ten years, then Gordon Campbell for a year, and since 2001 we’ve had John Paris, who reminds me a lot of Fred. John sings, and that’s key; I think drummers who sing are better drummers for it, because they learn how to play behind a singer.

How did Illumination come together?
It was the brainchild of Philip Bailey. Originally, he was going to do a solo project in which he collaborated with some of the top hip-hop artists; then he thought, Why not do it as an EWF album? The unsung hero was our co-manager, Damien Smith, who reached out to the artists he felt were a good fit to work with us, and who coordinated the project from the first meeting to the final mix. The concept made sense considering how the emphasis in hip-hop has shifted to using real instruments and incorporating vintage sounds into the music. As Philip said, it’s really no different from when we were in our 20s and we collaborated with Ramsey Lewis on Sun Goddess; we’ve come full circle. When we all got together in the studio, we were just artists and musicians creating. Everyone left their egos at the door, and we were able to make positive, spiritual music that put us back in the moment. It was illuminating for all parties involved.

Classic Earth, Wind & Fire tracks are still all over the radio. How do you approach having to compete with your own heyday?
It’s true, it is a challenge; we’re something like the third most-played band on the radio, with a song every five minutes. I think it’s always a mistake to try to make an album you’ve already made, like a That’s the Way of the World. When you’ve raised the bar so high on albums and live performances, you’re trying to reach a level you’ve already established—which leads me to believe that it was divine: You were just a conduit or vessel it was all coming through. So how can you try to get back there, when it really wasn’t you getting there in the first place? That said, we’ve certainly been down that road. I feel some of the records that maybe weren’t so good after the heyday helped us reach this point. Now we’re just Earth, Wind & Fire; we don’t have to be anyone but ourselves. And the fact that this generation has caught up to where we started, and we’re collaborating together, makes this a special CD for all of us in this era.

What was it like working with Raphael Saadiq?
Wonderful! If EWF was starting today, he’d be in it. He really gets it; in fact, he’s even more Old School than we are, but he completely understood how to balance who we were with who we are today. And his two bass tracks are great; he had me try his P-Bass, and he turned me on to La Bella black nylon strings. I played on his third tune, “Pass Me By,” because it reminded me of a song on our second album, called “I Think About Lovin’ You,” and Sly & the Family Stone’s “Everybody Is a Star.” It was just myself on my Yamaha TRB4—which is the only bass I used on the album—and Raphael on guitar, recording to the drum track. As it turned out, there were some great bassists involved in producing this album, including Terry Lewis, who wrote and produced “Pure Gold” and “Love’s Dance.”

On “Pure Gold” and the instrumental “Liberation,” you very effectively open up your parts in the chorus sections.
That was just something I tried, and both Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis and Vikter Duplaix, who produced “Liberation,” liked it and asked me to keep doing it. Both of those parts are right in my style and comfort zone, as opposed to “Lovely People” with will.i.am, and “This Is How I Feel,” with Organized Noize, which called for a different approach. In the case of “Feel,” it was two bass tracks.

You recorded with Jennifer Lopez on her 2002 CD, This is Me ... Then.
After EWF was on the BET Awards show, Jennifer called me herself. I thought I was going to do one song, but I ended up doing five songs in a week, including the ballad, “Baby I Love U!” It was one of the best sessions I’ve ever done—very organized and professional, like an EWF album. I got the music in advance and they wanted me to play my style. It was just [drummer] Omar Hakim and me tracking, along with the producer, Corey Rooney, Bruce Swedien, who was engineering, and Jennifer, who would come from her movie shoot to listen in.

What are your reflections on the period when EWF did elaborate concerts with magic tricks and special effects?
It was exhausting but effective, because it really helped establish us as we hit our heyday, and it earned us a reputation as top-flight entertainers. The cool part was when I would have a costume change or was involved in an illusion, Louis Satterfield would switch over and cover for me on bass.

Dancing is still a big part of your stage role. Does it hinder or help you to play the groove?
To be honest, one has no bearing on the other. They’re totally separate. The dancing comes from studying with the legendary African-American choreographer George Faison, when we first got to L.A. We took dancing, acting, and signing lessons; it was all part of Maurice’s concept to be the best band we could be.

Do you have favorite younger players who have influenced you?
Absolutely. I first met Marcus Miller when he was 12, and I’ve got every one of his CDs. He inspired the pops I did on the second bass track of “This Is How I Feel.” We’re all great buddies; I always run into or hear from folks like Stanley Clarke, Nathan East, and Christian McBride, and I just saw Victor Wooten’s show. When you’re talking about great players like that, you can’t help but listen to them and take ideas, and they’re always kind in acknowledging my influence on them. Nowadays I dig everyone from bassists in bands, like the guy in Coldplay [Guy Berryman] to the virtuoso cats like Matt Garrison, who gave me his CD at the NAMM show. The current music scene is in the process of reinventing itself. We’re sort of at the beginning of the wave of the return of real instruments and live playing, so I think we’ll have a lot of heavy bassists, guitarists, and drummers emerging. I’d say this is a great era for any live musicians to be starting in.

When it comes to longevity and success as a career bassist in one band, you’ve cornered the market. Any other itches to scratch?
Not really; the range of styles we cover has always been musically fulfilling, and I never look ahead that much—the future is now. We’ve got this album, we have a five-part commercial series coming up for Target, and then more touring. My focus is still on doing what I do with as much truth and integrity as I can. I go out and work hard every night, because I’m constantly aware there may be some young bass player in the audience who is hearing me for the first time, and I owe him or her my very best.