Ohio Players - Wikipedia

About the Song

In the realm of music, there are songs that fade into obscurity, and then there are anthems that stand the test of time, forever etched into the collective consciousness. “Fire” by The Ohio Players belongs to the latter category. This 1974 funk masterpiece is not merely a song; it’s an experience, an infectious groove that ignites the soul and sets the body in motion.

A Band With Soul

The Ohio Players, hailing from Canton, Ohio, were pioneers of funk music, a genre that seamlessly blended elements of soul, R&B, and psychedelic rock. With their signature sound characterized by driving rhythms, catchy melodies, and electrifying guitar riffs, The Ohio Players quickly gained a reputation as one of the most exciting live bands of the era.

The Song That Defined Them

“Fire” was the opening track and title cut of the band’s 1974 album, and it became an instant sensation. The song’s infectious energy and undeniable funk groove propelled it to the top of the charts, reaching number one on both the Billboard Hot 100 and the Hot Soul Singles chart. “Fire” became the band’s biggest hit, and it remains their most recognizable and enduring song.

A Funk Masterpiece

“Fire” is a masterclass in funk music. The song opens with a driving drum beat and a catchy guitar riff that immediately sets the tone for the funk extravaganza to follow. Lead vocalist Leroy “Butch” Bacon delivers the lyrics with a soulful urgency, his voice perfectly complementing the instrumental groove. The song’s infectious melody and relentless rhythm make it impossible to resist, demanding movement and inciting a sense of unrestrained joy.

A Legacy of Funk

“Fire” has had a profound impact on popular music, influencing countless artists and leaving an indelible mark on the funk genre. The song’s enduring popularity is a testament to its timeless appeal and its ability to connect with listeners across generations. “Fire” is more than just a song; it’s a funk anthem that continues to ignite dance floors and inspire music lovers worldwide.

Key takeaways:

  • “Fire” by The Ohio Players is a funk anthem that has stood the test of time.
  • The song’s infectious groove, catchy melody, and soulful vocals make it an irresistible classic.
  • “Fire” is a testament to the enduring power of funk music.

Ohio Players on TIDAL

Video

Lyrics: Fire 

Hey, ha, uh-huh
Hey, hey, hey, Lord (ow, gow)
Hey, ha, uh-huh
Hey, hey, hey, Lord
(Fire)Fire (Uh, uh)
Fire (Sing us home) (Oh Lord)
Fire (woo, woo, woo, woo)
Fire

The way you walk and talk really sets me off
To a four-alarm, child, yes it does, uh, uh
The way you squeeze and tease knocks to me my knees
‘Cause you’re smokin’, baby, baby

The way you swerve and curve really wracks my nerves
And I’m so excited, child (yeah) woo, woo
The way you push, push lets me know that you’re
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, good
(You’re gonna get your wish) Oh, Lord, oh

Fire (what I say, child, ow)
Fire (uh-huh)
Got me burnin’, got me burnin’ (woo)
Got me burnin’, got me burnin’ (no no)
Got me burnin’, got me burnin’ (whoa)

Woo hoo hoo hoo, baby
Says burnin, burnin’ baby
Hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo
Burnin, burnin’ baby
Oh, baby
‘Cause someone on me

When you shake what you got, and girl, you’ve got a lot
You really somethin’, child, yes, you are
‘Cause when you’re hot, you’re hot, you really shoot your shot
You’re dyn-o-mite child, yeah

Well, I can tell by your game, you’re gonna start a flame
In my heart, baby, baby
I’m ’bout to choke from the smoke, got to tighten up my stroke
Can you feel it, girl? Yeah

Got me burnin’, got me burnin’
Got me burnin’, got me burnin’
Got me burnin’, got me burnin’ (fire)
Got me burnin’, got me burnin’ (fire)
Got me burnin’, got me burnin’ (fire)
Got me burnin’, got me burnin’ (fire)
Got me burnin’, got me burnin’ (fire)

You Missed

SHE HAD BEEN SINGING MOUNTAIN MUSIC SINCE BEFORE BLUEGRASS EVEN HAD A NAME. THEN, AT 80, WILMA LEE COOPER COLLAPSED ON THE OPRY STAGE WITH THE SONG STILL IN HER THROAT. Wilma Lee Cooper came out of Valley Head, West Virginia, where music was not something you studied in a conservatory. It was family. Church. Radio. Coal-country evenings. Her father worked in the mines. Her mother played pump organ. Wilma started singing when she was five, then sang with her family gospel group before she ever became part of country music history. She met Stoney Cooper in the early 1940s. He played fiddle. She sang and played guitar. Together they built a sound that sat between mountain gospel, old-time string band music, and the country music that had not yet decided how polished it wanted to become. They did not wait for genre labels. They drove. They broadcast. They played wherever people would listen. The roads were part of the act. Their daughter Carol Lee sometimes slept in the car under the upright bass while Wilma and Stoney went from show to show. They raised a family while keeping a band alive. They recorded songs like “Big Midnight Special,” “There’s a Big Wheel,” and “Wreck on the Highway.” By 1957, they had joined the Grand Ole Opry. The Smithsonian later called Wilma Lee the “First Lady of Bluegrass.” But that title came after decades of work. It came after she and Stoney had already spent years carrying the mountain sound through a country business that was moving toward smoother voices and cleaner suits. Then Stoney died in 1977. Wilma Lee did not leave with him. She stayed with the Opry. She kept leading the Clinch Mountain Clan. The old mountain voice remained onstage, older now but still carrying the same hard edge. She had already sung for more than sixty years by the time she walked onto the Ryman Auditorium stage on February 24, 2001. She was eighty. During that performance, Wilma Lee suffered a stroke. The career ended there. Not in a retirement announcement. Not in a farewell special. Onstage, in the place where she had kept the old sound alive for generations. The illness affected her speech and voice, and doctors doubted she would walk again. But Wilma Lee did return once more. In 2010, at the reopening of the Opry House after the Nashville flood, she came back for a group sing-along. Not to reclaim the old career. Not to prove anything. Just to stand in the room one more time and thank the people who had carried her. For most of her life, Wilma Lee Cooper sang as if the mountain had come down from West Virginia and entered the microphone. Her last great silence came on the same stage where she had spent decades refusing to let that mountain disappear.