"September" (Earth, Wind & Fire)

Like so many other Earth, Wind & Fire songs, "September" (first released on 1978's The Best of Earth, Wind & Fire, Vol. 1) bursts with positivity and light.  It is the kind of song that, no matter what age you are and no matter what the event (picnic, wedding, birthday, reunion, bar mitzvah, etc.), it's going to get you up and dancing.  It's impossible to sit still or be cynical when you hear that signature EW&F interplay of rhythm and melody.  (Side note: Verdine White's bassline is a masterpiece in and of itself.  Isolate it and take a listen sometime.)
Thing is, in all of the years I've been a fan of the song (and we're talking since I was running around in Pampers), I've never really known what bandleader Maurice White is singing about.  The track always had an air of nostalgia about it, what with that opening line Do you remember?  But it wasn't clear if he's reminiscing about a senior prom, a night on the town, a couple's first time, or something else entirely.
And if there's one line that has always eluded me, it's what Philip Bailey sings at the top of the chorus.  Is it party on?  Party up?  Party, y'all?  On and on?  
Turns out the line is Ba-dee-ya.  
So what does it mean?
In my own best estimate, it's onomatopoeia that mimics the sound of horns.  
One of the track's writers, the awesomely eccentric Allee Willis, recently told NPR it was a Maurice White-ism that was there just as a placeholder.  Willis (who'd been a copywriter at Columbia Records, writing liner notes for R&B albums, before singer Patti LaBelle gave her her first break as a songwriter, which led to the gig with EW&F) says that they still hadn't replaced the lyric when it came time to lay down the final vocals.  But when she begged him to change it to something other than nonsensical syllables, he convinced her that the line was perfect and memorable, as is.
"I learned my greatest lesson ever in songwriting from him, which was never let the lyric get in the way of the groove."

So I guess the moral of the story is not to get too hung up on what the song is about.  It's about whatever memories, feelings, or thoughts it conjures for you.

"Can't Hide Love" (Earth, Wind & Fire)

"Can't Hide Love" from the album Gratitude (1975) may not be Earth, Wind & Fire's best known hit.  It wasn't even written by a member of the band; it actually was composed by songwriter Skip Scarborough (who also wrote the R&B hit "Lovely Day" for Bill Withers).  But it has all of the elements that showcase EWF at the peak of its powers: the tight rhythm section, the unified Phenix Horns, and bandleader Maurice White's tenor growl set against the group's soaring falsetto harmonies.  The result is one of the sultriest, funkiest love songs ever recorded.
Word of caution, though: articles of clothing may spontaneously fly off your body when White "takes it to church" on his final verse and the group starts singing its ahhhhh harmonies toward the end of the track.  So you might want to light some candles and be close to someone you love in the presence of this song.

"Shining Star" (Earth, Wind & Fire)

Earth, Wind & Fire occasionally caught flak for being funk pretenders.  (Check the lyrics of Funkadelic's "Let's Take It to the Stage," where George Clinton refers to the band as "Earth, Hot Air, and No Fire.")
But I never viewed Maurice White and his crew that way.  In their prime, EW&F had an almost "Duke Ellington Orchestra of R&B" vibe about them; they could play intricate, jazz-infused ballads with an unmatched class and virtuosity and then turn right around and tear the roof off the sucka and get downright stanky.
"Shining Star" from the 1975 soundtrack album for the less-than-great Harvey Keitel film about the music biz, That's the Way of the World, is a perfect example of the latter.  
Everything on this relatively brief track is in its right place: the drums and bass play just a hint behind the beat to give the song a little swing, the twin guitars riff and strum in a stratosphere somewhere between rock and R&B, the Fender rhodes and horns punctuate at just the right moments, and the vocals perfectly combine the all-for-one feel of late 60s Sly & The Family Stone with jazzy, gospel-tinged harmonies.  (There's nothing else in all of pop music quite like the vocal blend of Maurice and Verdine White with the incomparable Philip Bailey.)
I only wish I could hear this song now without immediately thinking of Elaine Benes doing her "full body dry heave."