This year marks the 30th anniversary of the infamous Disco Demolition in Chicago. In 2005, I posted my musing on this oft-maligned music genre. This is a re-post of that blog.
I have a confession to make: I like disco. There, I said it. And I’m not taking about so-called “French disco” (Daft Punk, Air, etc.). I make this statement at the risk of sounding uncool amongst my rock-snob peers. But before you cast your aspersions, before you judge me, hear me out.
Admitting fondness for this, arguably the most uncool musical genre in the history of recorded music, is not an easy thing to do. Especially if you’re from where I am from. You see, I was born in Chicagoland in the early 70’s. I may not have been fully conscious of the disco movement as a toddler, but I was conscious of the negative connotation it carried.
A little history lesson for those of you who ddin’t grow up in Chicagoland during this time: In 1979 disco was at the peak of its popularity. It saturated everything, thanks to the overwhelming success of Saturday Night Fever. It was everywhere, permeating every part of popular culture. Even Sesame Street’s Grover had a disco record for fuck’s sake!
It was at this time in popular, mainstream culture that rock and roll was once again pronounced dead. (This was a huge fallacy since there was a veritable renaissance happening in the music world that was happening just beneath the radar in the form of Punk Rock and New Wave). But as with all major forces in popular culture, cash register receipts equal supremacy. But as history proves over and over again, all supremacy is temporary. Anyway, I’m getting off topic.
In 1979, a soon-to-be infamous radio personality named Steve Dahl hosted a popular radio show on WLUP-FM (a.k.a., The Loop) in Chicago. He was the most hilarious rebel these airwaves have ever seen. Just before he started his show at The Loop, Dahl did a stint at rival WDAI where a format change forced him to play disco records — which he begrudgingly did, usually at double to speed the records were meant to play at. A die-hard rock and roller, Dahl took every opportunity to trash the music that went out over the airwaves on his watch. To call him insubordinate was an understatement. Shortly after that, WDAI fired Dahl and was snapped up by The Loop.
On July 12, 1979 (two days before my sixth birthday) Dahl hosted a radio promotion at the old White Sox baseball park called Disco Demolition. Admission was 98 cents and a disco record. Between games (the Sox were hosting a double header that day), Dahl would blow up a gigantic pile of disco records. The event was dubbed “the world’s largest anti-disco rally.”
Perhaps this all seems silly and immature. But Disco Demolition was proof positive of just how much hated disco was . It was supposed to be a radio gimmick, nothing more. But when it came time to demolish these records, things got out of control. Dahl, who was dressed in a general’s uniform, led the crowd in a chant of “Disco Sucks! Disco Sucks!” And when he pushed the plunger and blew up the records, crazed fans rushed the field. Havoc broke loose. Security at the park was ill-prepared for the event. Not even Harry Carey – who was then an announcer for the Sox at the time – could control the crowd.
Things were so crazy, the second game was forfeited and when the smoke cleared, Dahl made a lot of enemies. Conversely, he also cemented himself in the history of radio, sports and most importantly, rock and roll. Thirty years later people still talk about that. And as far as he and those who were adults or teens during his late-70’s reign, disco still sucks.
I was five going on six when all this occurred. But the events of that summer day reverberated through my childhood and teens. When I was starting to get into music, it was an accepted scientific fact that disco did indeed fact suck. If you were into it or any kind of dance music you were a lame or some sort of “fag”. (Mind you, we are talking about the 1980’s, I was not exactly fully aware of my sexuality much less bursting from the closet.)
Well, whether or not I liked any disco at the time, I can’t remember. A few things I do remember during that time: My brother’s neon black light KISS posters, Scorpions records, my mom telling me that Peter Frampton was my real father (seriously, she did) and a lot of pot smoke from my brother and his friends.
I also remember liking the movie Sgt. Pepper. This was movie based on the music of The Beatles starring the Bee Gees, Peter Frampton, Steve Martin, George Burns and Aerosmith, among others. (Curiously, Aerosmith played the bad guys, some sort of evil rock and roll band. So it would seem that the bias goes both ways.) The soundtrack featured mostly disco renditions of Fab Four classics. But I digress. “Disco Sucks” was burned into my very being. To like it was to invite ridicule.
Flash forward to the mid-90’s. I am living in the great City of Chicago. I am a college student and a giant homosexual. I manage to be a homosexual without Madonna or disco or Broadway musicals. Amazingly, I am just enough fag to enjoy lots and lots of hot man-on-man action. But disco is still there, thumping through speakers at bars and gay pride parades. As it is an almost requisite part of being gay in the 1970’s, the same seemed to be true in the 1990’s. Being the angry young kid I was, I eschewed all things stereotypically gay. Remember, this was the early 90’s. Rock was huge and cool and hip again (thank you, Nirvana). To like disco would once again have been social suicide among my art school and indie rock friends. I refrained.
It’s the 21st Century. I’m a bit older, perhaps a little wiser, definitely a lot more confident and secure in what I like. That is why I stand before thee to profess my like of disco. Disco is shallow and disposable. But despite that, I believe that it has some moments of brilliance. And it makes people want to dance. Like all guilty pleasures, it makes people happy. I guess it’s uncool to want to be happy. I find that attitude rather repugnant as I careen toward 40. If being happy is not the meaning of life – or the pursuit of happiness – then I am not sure what is.
Now, it’s not as if I put disco up there with, say, the brilliance of Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, John Lennon, The Clash, Elvis Costello, Tom Waits or the million and one other musical geniuses of our times who I might name drop. I don’t value disco in this manner. But I think that if a song makes your foot tap, puts a smile on your face or brings a remembrance of some gleeful times past, then it has value. Even the worst music in the world makes somebody happy. There’s got to be value in that, right?
I write this not to ask forgiveness or even justify my like of disco. Or maybe I do. Who knows? All I know is that I like disco. I don’t heart disco, but I like it. It’s a part of queer culture, for better or worse. And for better or worse. I am part of queer culture in some small way. -fin-
