A heavy Burdon

Kirk Baird

Friday, Nov. 30, 2001 | 3:54 a.m.

Almost any 50-year-old-plus rock 'n' roller worth his or her salt could produce an autobiography.

Eric Burdon decided to write two: 1986's "I Used to be an Animal, but I'm All Right Now" and the just-published "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood."

It's not that Burdon had more to say about his life in the music business than he did in 1986; he simply wanted to write a more "historically correct" account, as he put it.

Performing for nearly 40 years, Burdon, 60, is best known as lead singer for two bands: the Animals, the '60s blues band that was the first British group to chart a No. 1 U.S. single (1964's "House of the Rising Sun") after the Beatles, and who also had hits with "We Gotta Get Out of This Place" and "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood"; and with War, a Los Angeles funk-and-jazz outfit, which featured the then-revolutionary lineup of a white singer (Burdon) fronting an all-black band and produced the hit "Spill the Wine."

A 1994 inductee into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame with the original Animals, with whom he twice reunited in 1977 and '83, Burdon has essentially remained a solo artist who occasionally records and performs with a backup band, which he later dubbed the New Animals.

Burdon and his New Animals perform Friday at Sunset Station.

The Sun recently talked to Burdon from his hotel room in Perth, Australia, as he finished up a tour. He spoke of the various incarnations of the Animals, why he left War and how it feels to be a rock 'n' roll survivor:

Las Vegas Sun: You're called Eric Burdon and the New Animals. But there are other bands out there using Animals in their name as well.

Eric Burdon: Yeah, there have been two or three bands out there calling themselves the Animals. Some of them have the right, or part of the right, because they were ex-members of my original band who, in effect, retired from the business years ago. But now that their normal day jobs have run out, it's, "Oh well, why don't we use the name 'The Animals' and go out and make money on the weekends?" I even discussed it with the guys involved. We came to an agreement. I said, "Look, there's two of the original members of the band. You can call yourselves Animals II and I'll call myself the New Animals."

Sun: With the Animals, the other members left and you carried on for a few more years. With War, however, you left in 1971 as the band was really taking off. Why?

EB: I couldn't take it anymore. It was (Jimi) Hendrix's death. Jimi died two days after jamming with me and War in Ronnie Scott's Club in London, and we were the last people he ever played with. There was that ... and I knew that there was a movement to get me out of the band and put the band with a different record label, and leave me hanging with the worst record company in the world. I just jumped ship before they had a chance to fire me. It still hurt. One day I just went into my office in Hollywood, where the band was created over a table ... to find that the armed guard outside of the office was told that if I tried to get into my office, that he would have to shoot me.

Sun: Why did your bandmates do that?

EB: The band didn't do it, the management company did, the guys who were running the show. On several occasions I've been through that ... I tried to cause a revolt in the band to get the band to stay together, and move away from the management and stay strong together. What happened was the band was split down the middle. One side of the band went with the management and the other side was left out in the cold. And that's the way it remains today. There's a band out called War with one original member, and the four other original members are left out in the cold wondering what to do with themselves and not getting any of the monies.

Sun: Have you played with War since you left?

EB: Well, you know agents tend to book us on the same show and the people expect me to jam with War. I did on a couple of occasions, but I just flatly refuse to do it now. Now they stopped booking us together. They got the message.

Sun: In light of what happened to Hendrix and how close you were, was there any moment when you thought, "I can't believe I'm still here?"

EB: When you're in the middle of it, you don't think about it that way. After Jimi Hendrix had died -- and I was more than tied into his death on some levels -- I came to the States ... I couldn't face going back to England for a while, it was such a shock for me. After a few years, I went in and checked in with my lawyer in London, who's a very straight-laced guy. He just looked at me and said, "You're lucky to be alive. You're really lucky to have survived that." On the other end, I was in a nightclub one night and Neil Young came up to me. He was in disguise so nobody knew who he was. He said, "Hey man, how are you doing, you survivor?" That made me realize you've got to go past just being a survivor. You've got to dig in and continue until your dying breath, I guess.

Sun: Is that one of the reasons why you're still performing?

EB: Quite simply, it's my job. I chose that job because it gives me a lot of freedom and I meet a lot of people. And I'm allowed within the scope of that job to do things that normally people aren't allowed to do. For instance, I can scream at the boss. I can throw tantrums if I want and get away with it. Ridiculous stuff like that. I can be totally honest with my consumers, the people who buy from me. I can walk out onstage and say, "Look, I feel terrible. I've had a rotten day and you're going to have to bear with me." And that's what I love about my fans: that's what they want from me, that's what they've always wanted from me.