Music ages fast. Most albums from 2017 sound like relics of a specific, trap-heavy era that we've mostly moved past, but War & Leisure by Miguel hits differently in 2026. It feels like a premonition. While everyone else was busy chasing radio hits or wallowing in "sad boy" R&B, Miguel Pimentel was trying to figure out how to be happy while the world felt like it was ending.
That tension is exactly why we're still talking about it.
It’s not just about the hits like "Sky Walker." It’s about the concept of "War & Leisure" itself—this weird, uncomfortable duality of living your best life while scrolling through a news feed full of global instability. Miguel called it "political upbeat." It’s the sound of a backyard BBQ in a police state. Honestly, it’s kind of a vibe we’ve all been forced to adopt lately.
The Dual Reality of War & Leisure
The album title isn't just a catchy phrase. It’s a thesis. Miguel was looking at the landscape of the late 2010s—the political polarization, the constant threat of conflict, the environmental anxiety—and realized that humans don't just stop wanting to dance or have sex because things are going wrong. We do those things more because things are going wrong.
That’s the "leisure" part.
It acts as a shield. But the "war" is always there, lurking in the basslines. Take a track like "City of Angels." On the surface, it’s a psych-rock-influenced jam about Los Angeles. But listen to the lyrics. It’s a song about a city under fire, about the fragility of the "American Dream" when the bombs start falling. It’s dark. It’s gritty. Yet, it still makes you want to drive with the windows down.
Miguel told NME back in the day that he wanted to find "the silver lining" in the chaos. He wasn't trying to ignore the problems; he was trying to find a way to coexist with them without losing his mind. You've probably felt that too. You're at a party, the music is loud, but you just got a notification about a new crisis. Do you leave? Usually, you just turn the music up.
Production That Defies Genre Boxes
We need to talk about the sound. Most R&B is predictable. You get the 808s, the silky vocals, and the standard verse-chorus-verse structure. Miguel threw the playbook out the window for this record. He leaned heavily into Prince-inspired funk, 90s grunge, and even some Latin flares that honored his heritage.
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The guitars are the secret weapon here.
They aren't clean. They’re fuzzy, distorted, and slightly chaotic. On "Pineapple Skies," the groove is so infectious you almost miss the complexity of the arrangement. It’s a masterclass in layering. Then you have "Come Through and Chill" with J. Cole, which pulls everything back into a late-night, lo-fi aesthetic.
- "Sky Walker" provided the commercial anchor.
- "Told You So" brought the high-energy, funky activism.
- "Anointed" dipped into the spiritual, soulful side of the spectrum.
- "Now" served as the raw, acoustic protest song that closed the journey.
This wasn't a "safe" album. It was a risk. In a streaming world that rewards consistency, Miguel gave us a collage. Some critics at the time found it a bit disjointed, but looking back, that fragmentation is a feature, not a bug. Our lives are disjointed. Our attention spans are fragmented. The album reflects the messy reality of the modern human experience.
Why "Sky Walker" Became the Anthem for a Generation
"Spliff don't burn it... Luke Skywalkin' on these haters."
It’s a simple line. It’s almost silly. But "Sky Walker" became a massive success because it captured a very specific feeling: defiant joy. Travis Scott’s feature added that hazy, melodic trap flavor that dominated the charts, but the core of the song is pure Miguel. It’s about staying "level" when everything around you is shifting.
People often dismiss this track as a "party song." It’s more than that. It’s an act of rebellion. In a world that wants you to be miserable and engaged in the "war" 24/7, choosing to "leisure" is a political statement. It’s about reclaiming your time and your mental health.
The Collaborations That Actually Made Sense
Usually, features on an R&B album feel like they were brokered by a lawyer in a boardroom. On War & Leisure, they feel like friends dropping by the studio.
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- Kali Uchis on "Caramelo Duro" brings a bilingual heat that highlights Miguel’s roots.
- J. Cole brings a grounded, lyrical perspective to "Come Through and Chill."
- Travis Scott provides the atmospheric energy for the album's biggest hit.
- Rick Ross adds a layer of luxury to "Criminal."
Each guest artist serves the song, not the other way around. Miguel’s voice remains the centerpiece—that versatile, soaring tenor that can go from a gritty growl to a flawless falsetto in a single bar. He’s one of the few male vocalists who can actually pull off the "rock star" persona without it feeling like a costume.
The Political Undercurrents of "Now"
The most important song on the album might be the one people skip the most: "Now." It’s the final track. It’s stripped back. It’s a direct plea for change. Miguel performed this song at a protest concert outside an immigration detention center in Adelanto, California.
He didn't just sing about the "war"; he went to the front lines.
The lyrics ask, "CEO of the free world, does your conscience work?" It’s a direct challenge to leadership. By ending the album this way, Miguel ensures that the "leisure" we just experienced doesn't leave us feeling complacent. He’s saying, "Okay, we had our fun, we danced, we connected... now, what are we going to do about the state of the world?"
It’s a powerful transition. It forces the listener to confront the reality that the "backyard BBQ" is taking place on a planet that's literally and metaphorically on fire.
Addressing the "Messy" Criticism
Some people hated this album when it dropped. They wanted Kaleidoscope Dream 2.0. They wanted more of the polished, psychedelic soul of his previous work. War & Leisure felt a bit too loud, a bit too bright, and a bit too eclectic for some ears.
Honestly, they missed the point.
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The album is supposed to feel like a neon-lit fever dream. It’s supposed to be a little overwhelming. If it were perfectly balanced, it wouldn't be honest. Life isn't balanced. We are constantly bouncing between hedonism and activism, between wanting to hide under the covers and wanting to march in the streets. Miguel captured that specific brand of 21st-century anxiety better than almost anyone else in his peer group.
How to Listen to War & Leisure Today
If you haven't spun this record in a while, do yourself a favor and listen to it from start to finish without skipping. Don't just put "Sky Walker" on a playlist and call it a day.
Notice the way the mood shifts from the upbeat funk of "Told You So" to the dark, cinematic vibes of "Criminal." Pay attention to the transitions. Look for the way Miguel uses his voice as an instrument, often layering his own harmonies until they sound like a choir of ghosts.
Actionable Takeaways for Music Lovers
If you want to dive deeper into the world Miguel created, here are a few ways to really appreciate the artistry:
- Watch the Live Performances: Seek out Miguel’s Tiny Desk Concert or his live performances from the War & Leisure tour. His stage presence is electric, and the live arrangements often breathe new life into the songs.
- Explore the Influences: Listen to Prince’s Sign o' the Times or some early 90s funk-rock. You’ll hear where Miguel got his DNA.
- Read the Lyrics: Don't just vibe to the beat. Actually look at the words to "City of Angels" and "Now." There’s a lot of substance beneath the shimmer.
- Check the Visuals: The music videos for this era—specifically "Sky Walker" and "Told You So"—are visually stunning and help contextualize the "War & Leisure" theme.
Miguel’s War & Leisure isn't just an album; it’s a survival guide for the modern age. It teaches us that it’s okay to find joy in the middle of a storm. In fact, it might be the only way to make it through to the other side. It’s a reminder that even when the world is at war, we still need our leisure. We still need to dance. We still need to feel human.
The album's legacy isn't found in its chart positions or its streaming numbers. It’s found in the way it gave us permission to be complicated. It told us that we could be both aware and happy, both angry and in love. It’s a high-wire act that very few artists can pull off, and years later, Miguel is still the one leading the way.
Next time you feel overwhelmed by the news cycle, put on "Pineapple Skies." Let the bassline hit you. Remember that "the sun’s coming up," even if it feels like it might be the last time. That’s the power of this music. It’s not just entertainment; it’s a lifeline.