Disco Sucks!
In times of hopelessness and despair, the glittering beats of disco never seem too far behind.
Image Credit: The Washington Post
Disco — with all of its glittering promises of promiscuity, lustful echoes of hedonistic debauchery, and unrelentingly upbeat earworms — refuses to die.
Disco's underground beginnings in the late 1960s grew out of necessity. Its primary architects: people of colour and the queer community, who frequented disco clubs aiming to exist in a space free of violence or judgement. The eventual mainstream popularity of disco led to marginalised communities at the forefront of innovating a commercially successful genre. Soaring success left space for criticism, however, none more vocally vicious than 1970s rock fans. As the dominant genre of the past few decades, predominantly white, middle-class audiences were not acclimated to being decentralised from popular culture.
In Chicago 1979, a radio DJ mounted a "Disco Sucks!" campaign that drew on the thinly-veiled frustrations of rock fans toward disco. Using his connections with Chicago White Sox stadium owners, the DJ guaranteed discounted admission if attendees brought at least one disco record to burn on the field during intermission. Disco Demolition Night attracted 50,000 participants, 30,000 more than typical games. The demonstration of physically exploding a pile of vinyl records resulted in a stampeding, fiery riot of disco misanthropes on the field. And for what? To condemn a silly little shiny spinning sphere? Seemingly so.
But behind accusations of disco's superficiality and lacklustre artistic merit were the marginalised people who populated disco culture. Disco Demolition Night became a symbolic rejection of those communities, a dog whistle whispering, "you are not welcome here." The night was so successful that it's widely credited for expediting the death of disco, and fostering burgeoning American conservatism in popular culture. The resulting public denigration of disco caused the genre to retreat to the underground clubs and confetti-filled floors where it was forged. Though these disco anthems did return as the soundtracks for gay rights and liberation movements throughout the 1980s to the present day.
In times of hopelessness and despair, the glittering beats of disco never seem too far behind. Notably resurging, disco once again became anthemic of the hyper-visible political movements of the year. Naturally, some songs played at Black Lives Matter protests had disco influence — a tribute to the Black musicians who crafted disco's origins. But even further, disco's liberating lyrics made them perfect anthems for the Black Lives Matter Movement. Recognising these themes, LGBTQ+ rights protesters have utilised disco as an effective political tool for decades. Even now, classic disco songs like Donna Summer's ‘I Feel Love’ and The Weather Girls' ‘It's Raining Men’ regularly play at pride parades and protests as backing tracks. Just last month, the pride parade on King Street marched to the beat of ‘Le Freak’ by Chic, demonstrating disco's inescapable anthemic residence in today's political climate.
Compounding this political unrest were the added stressors of the coronavirus pandemic. Pleading for a change from heartbreaking ballads like Lewis Capaldi's ‘Someone You Loved’ and Billie Eilish's ‘when the party's over’, the disco revival exploded onto the pop scene in 2020, subverting themes of introspection and isolation. Disco perfectly filled that void. Clandestine pandemic raves bumped disco music throughout stay-at-home orders, returning the genre to its original illicit roots. The revival of disco raves and disco pop alleviated woeful moods and engaged people in the escapism they craved. Subsequently, many pop artists took note of disco's resounding impact.
Notably, Dua Lipa's brass-backed and euphoric Future Nostalgia colourised the isolation of staying at home with wildly predictive lyrics like, "I should have stayed at home, I was doing better alone." Unsurprisingly, Dua Lipa struck gold with near-ubiquitous radio presence of inescapable earworms like ‘Levitating’, ‘Break My Heart’, and ‘Don't Start Now’, all tried-and-true disco pop magic. But perhaps disco’s greatest success of the past few years occurred when Beyoncé became the most-awarded Grammy artist ever with the release of her undeniably glossy album, Renaissance. The lead single from Renaissance, ‘Break My Soul’, embodies liberation with lyrics like “I'm taking my new salvation,” and “I'ma build my own foundation.” The release of these celebratory disco anthems alongside a juxtaposing political climate isn't a coincidence. These lyrics directly respond to their political connotations; protestors and artists drawing inspiration from one another in a cyclical loop.
Despite all efforts, disco refuses to die. Like its hypnotic loops that recur again and again, disco continues to create community around that shimmering, silver-soaked sphere hanging from the ceiling centre.