— Cliff White
One of the great things about disco is that it was open to everyone. While Studio 54 may have had a very selective bouncer, there were plenty of other clubs for patrons to flock to where they could be dancefloor superstars for a night. Proprietors, too, got to bask in a renown they wouldn't have previously enjoyed, as did DJ's. And then there are the artists who came from all kinds of backgrounds. Some were from established pop and rock acts, most famously the Bee Gees but also groups such as ABBA, ELO, Kiss and Queen. Others were funk and soul performers enjoying a commercial and creative second wind like Marvin Gaye and Smokey Robinson. Herbie Hancock was one of the jazz's foremost keyboardists before supposedly selling out with some admittedly rum four-on-the-floor beats. Donna Summer emerged as a disco superstar having spent the previous decade as a struggling singer in various genres. And then there were those who'd been on the sidelines as jobbing session musicians and staff songwriters who managed to break through.
Cliff White has noticed this trend and points to some earlier examples: Chic, Chanson, Raydio. All were made up of talented studio musicians who made the transition to forming their own groups which coincided with the disco boom. Bernard Edwards and Nile Rodgers had been young jazz players who may have been doing well creatively but who didn't have a lot to show for it in terms of earnings. Seriously considering going the punk rock route ("we always admired rock 'n' roll money," says Rodgers), they opted for disco, had some massive hits and then began producing (either in tandem or apart) Sister Sledge, Diana Ross, David Bowie and Robert Palmer. Top notch musicianship and studio savvy translated well in terms of cutting dance favourites but well-honed songwriting skills could also prove a benefit.
Gene McFadden and John Whitehead came into the Philadelphia soul scene as vocalists but emerged out of it a successful songwriting and production duo crafting hits for The O'Jays and Harold Melvin & The Bluenotes. With strong harmonies and writing, production and arranging skills learned in the Philadelphia International studios, they were in prime position to pounce on some disco success. It's easy to imagine "Ain't No Stopping Us Now" done in a Philly soul manner: dial back on the syncopated bass and replace the string section with some horns and you're in the realm of the very acts they had just been gifting hits to.
As a pair that had struggled for years, the song's sentiments could be taken as autobiographical, which renders the fact that they never had another hit something of a bitter pill. Nonetheless, it's crafted along the lines period songwriting with a hopefullness that current troubles will soon be left behind. This was the bread and butter of disco tunes. Well written and produced, it's only slightly let down by the nice vocals of McFadden & Whitehead, which lack flair. Experienced as they no doubt were in the studio, they may have been novices as stage performers. To be fair, the understated modesty kind of works with the lyrics and it would have been a distinctive quality alongside a generation of showboats but nevertheless their harmonies still seem like too much of a throwback to old school soul.
In a musical landscape so precious that a bunch of nitwits in Chicago were gearing up for the notorious Disco Demolition Night that summer at Comiskey Park, the purveyors of disco were remarkably open to all. Donna Summer, the Bee Gees and many more found a home in it and it was one that was refreshingly free of purists. The Rolling Stones took some flak on their excellent yet unlovable Some Girls album for dipping their toes in mainstream country ("Far Away Eyes") and punk ("Shattered") but didn't face too much blowback from disco types on "Miss You" (even if rock fans weren't necessarily dead chuffed). Fans weren't about to be snobs about who was cutting the latest disco hits, their only concern was how much they dug what they were dancing to. There's probably never been a period in the rock era in which a record's quality dictated how it would be received. In this type of environment even a pair of anonymous poor cousins to Gamble & Huff could thrive.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Blondie: "Sunday Girl"
Probably the least remembered of their UK number ones (1999's "Maria" doesn't count since I'd have to be aware of it in the first place in order to remember it), "Sunday Girl" suffers from being a Blondie single in a world of many more distinctive Blondie singles. (For the love of God, even "Rapture" has Deb's ludicriously awful raps to help it stand out) Taken on its own terms, however, it's actually rather good. As White says, they've already dispensed with the disco (for the time being at any rate) and gone back to a more solidly new wave sound, though perhaps without quite the same vigour of earlier hits "Denis" and "(I'm Always Touched by Your) Presence, Dear". It then was back to disco with the awesome "Atomic" and they wouldn't try rocking out until the more thrilling "Call Me". Still, a fine single from Imperial Period Blondie — just don't bother with the terrible French version, proof if nothing else that singing in a second language was rapidly becoming a lost art.
One of the great things about disco is that it was open to everyone. While Studio 54 may have had a very selective bouncer, there were plenty of other clubs for patrons to flock to where they could be dancefloor superstars for a night. Proprietors, too, got to bask in a renown they wouldn't have previously enjoyed, as did DJ's. And then there are the artists who came from all kinds of backgrounds. Some were from established pop and rock acts, most famously the Bee Gees but also groups such as ABBA, ELO, Kiss and Queen. Others were funk and soul performers enjoying a commercial and creative second wind like Marvin Gaye and Smokey Robinson. Herbie Hancock was one of the jazz's foremost keyboardists before supposedly selling out with some admittedly rum four-on-the-floor beats. Donna Summer emerged as a disco superstar having spent the previous decade as a struggling singer in various genres. And then there were those who'd been on the sidelines as jobbing session musicians and staff songwriters who managed to break through.
Cliff White has noticed this trend and points to some earlier examples: Chic, Chanson, Raydio. All were made up of talented studio musicians who made the transition to forming their own groups which coincided with the disco boom. Bernard Edwards and Nile Rodgers had been young jazz players who may have been doing well creatively but who didn't have a lot to show for it in terms of earnings. Seriously considering going the punk rock route ("we always admired rock 'n' roll money," says Rodgers), they opted for disco, had some massive hits and then began producing (either in tandem or apart) Sister Sledge, Diana Ross, David Bowie and Robert Palmer. Top notch musicianship and studio savvy translated well in terms of cutting dance favourites but well-honed songwriting skills could also prove a benefit.
Gene McFadden and John Whitehead came into the Philadelphia soul scene as vocalists but emerged out of it a successful songwriting and production duo crafting hits for The O'Jays and Harold Melvin & The Bluenotes. With strong harmonies and writing, production and arranging skills learned in the Philadelphia International studios, they were in prime position to pounce on some disco success. It's easy to imagine "Ain't No Stopping Us Now" done in a Philly soul manner: dial back on the syncopated bass and replace the string section with some horns and you're in the realm of the very acts they had just been gifting hits to.
As a pair that had struggled for years, the song's sentiments could be taken as autobiographical, which renders the fact that they never had another hit something of a bitter pill. Nonetheless, it's crafted along the lines period songwriting with a hopefullness that current troubles will soon be left behind. This was the bread and butter of disco tunes. Well written and produced, it's only slightly let down by the nice vocals of McFadden & Whitehead, which lack flair. Experienced as they no doubt were in the studio, they may have been novices as stage performers. To be fair, the understated modesty kind of works with the lyrics and it would have been a distinctive quality alongside a generation of showboats but nevertheless their harmonies still seem like too much of a throwback to old school soul.
In a musical landscape so precious that a bunch of nitwits in Chicago were gearing up for the notorious Disco Demolition Night that summer at Comiskey Park, the purveyors of disco were remarkably open to all. Donna Summer, the Bee Gees and many more found a home in it and it was one that was refreshingly free of purists. The Rolling Stones took some flak on their excellent yet unlovable Some Girls album for dipping their toes in mainstream country ("Far Away Eyes") and punk ("Shattered") but didn't face too much blowback from disco types on "Miss You" (even if rock fans weren't necessarily dead chuffed). Fans weren't about to be snobs about who was cutting the latest disco hits, their only concern was how much they dug what they were dancing to. There's probably never been a period in the rock era in which a record's quality dictated how it would be received. In this type of environment even a pair of anonymous poor cousins to Gamble & Huff could thrive.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Blondie: "Sunday Girl"
Probably the least remembered of their UK number ones (1999's "Maria" doesn't count since I'd have to be aware of it in the first place in order to remember it), "Sunday Girl" suffers from being a Blondie single in a world of many more distinctive Blondie singles. (For the love of God, even "Rapture" has Deb's ludicriously awful raps to help it stand out) Taken on its own terms, however, it's actually rather good. As White says, they've already dispensed with the disco (for the time being at any rate) and gone back to a more solidly new wave sound, though perhaps without quite the same vigour of earlier hits "Denis" and "(I'm Always Touched by Your) Presence, Dear". It then was back to disco with the awesome "Atomic" and they wouldn't try rocking out until the more thrilling "Call Me". Still, a fine single from Imperial Period Blondie — just don't bother with the terrible French version, proof if nothing else that singing in a second language was rapidly becoming a lost art.
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