Like I said a while back... some of these things just write themselves; this one has been with me since I was a kid.
For my pal Red, in whom I found an old soul who lives for... old soul. None of these were played at her wedding... but they could have been (and should have, probably, if we'd stayed past midnight). And of course, for Betty, who made me feel like I'd never been alone, and who knows more than I ever did.
And with that... you too should be dancing... yeah.
- France Joli, Come To Me. Disco warhorses are a hard subject, because you have to separate the overplayed from the atrocious, without losing songs which are, indeed, timeless. Disco's 1978-1980 moment may have been too much, in some ways, but we got there for a reason, and musically, it did grow out of pop and dance elements that had been there all along. The slow build, the swooping strings, the pulsing bassline... all of these are on display here, plus Joli, at the time a teenager newly discovered and shot to instant success. Though we tend to lump all disco into an obvious sexual come on, Come To Me is really more traditionally romantic, a declaration of love for just one person that will always be there, just for you. I still try to sing along - even the soaring high note.
- Cher, Take Me Home. Of all the seventies stars, Cher was probably the best natural fit to disco's showy, sexy aesthetic - she'd already been vamping around in Bob Mackie's showgirl costumes, embodying the dawning feminist awakening that a woman shouldn't have to depend on a man for her own worth or success, and do it on her own terms. She only did one real disco album, but that's all it took: Take Me Home is a near perfect single, and perfect disco (and, lashed into a gold and chains teeny bikini and Valkyrie winged headdress, even Mackie managed to outdo himself). And yes, it does speak to the direct, one night stand, why bother with old conventions approach to sex in the seventies with refreshing directness. Sexy, playful without being tawdry or cheap, the song reminds you that we do like sex (and dancing) because it's fun and brings us joy. I'm in heaven, feels like heaven... so much heaven...
- Donna Summer, The MacArthur Park Suite. In some ways this is a cheat, because it avoids picking one song of Summer's, which is hard... but also unfair: of all the artists of the period, Summer shouldn't be represented by just one song, since the wonder of her output at the time was its variety - with the help of Giorgio Moroder, Summer was rarely the same thing twice. And while she helped define the idea of a disco song, she never seemed bound to "the rules." That seemed especially true with this 17 minute(!) remix of One of a Kind, Heaven Knows and MacArthur Park, the latter a remake of an old jazz standard that rarely worked, but Summer somehow made into an emotional tour-de-force. Unlike many disco hits - even hers - she doesn't belt out the crucial final verse, but builds the emotional intesnity gradually, a reminder that she is, really, an incredible vocalist who can do nearly anything. Still.
- Barbra Streisand, The Main Event. Streisand, too, had a voice made for disco's soaring highs; when she finally gave into the trend, her vocals were some of the best, and not just in the obvious super-pairing on No More Tears with Summer. I always liked The Main Event, a fairly simplistic lyric which Streisand makes her own. And Streisand's usual tendencies to over-emote and go big (always big), actually work better for her on disco than her usual standards, where she can seem shrill and lacking in subtlety. Here, against a big wall of sound, she's got the room she needs to show how versatile her big voice actually is.
- Diana Ross, The Boss. Ross could be just as well represented by Love Hangover, but that song belongs on a different list, one that's more attuned to disco's early relationship to R&B. The Boss is more representative of the strong, independent female singer of 78-80, partly because after some pretty rough years (pretty much from the making of Mahogany until The Boss) personally and professionally, until Ross asserted a more direct role in shaping her own career. Working with Ashford and Simpson, Ross put together one of her best albums, a real statement of personal strength (which is why "I Ain't Been Licked" or "It's My House" also make the point quite forcefully). The Boss soars from its first notes, never looks back, and makes real virtues of Ross' unique vocal abilities, a lighter voice less suited to belting, but which conveys a real yearning, and is well matched with a near gospel intensity in her backup singers. And who can argue with letting love rule the day?
What a perfectly loverly collection for a Saturday...bravo!
and I don't care if I did anger that bartender at Mike's in NY w/the full 17 minutes...twas the best value for the quarter ;)
Posted by: jinb | October 24, 2009 at 06:22 PM