I had a friend, who fancied himself the end all be all final word which was handed down from God on everything music, and to that end, the disco/New York Rolling Stones were the worst, according to him. What were the New York Rolling Stones, you ask? He would claim three albums made up this period; Some Girls, Emotional Rescue, and Tattoo You. Sure, he’s say, there were a couple of good songs in there, but on the whole, they sucked.
I disagreed. In fact, I loved this period for the Stones. “Miss You” is one of my favorite songs of their’s and the reason is Bill Wyman’s disco bass. His playing is iconic, and a little gem of disco bass that just grooves into your head and won’t leave.
I woke up this morning and “Heart of Glass” was in my head. And I think I wrote about Blondie and “Heart of Glass” before, but you know what, I think I’m going to do it again.
I think for most people my age, when you say disco, the Bee Gees and Saturday Night Fever are the first things that pop into your head. For me, it’s been “Heart of Glass” since I first head it. Which is funny because me and just about everyone else would never say that Blondie is a disco band – punk and new wave, clearly.
Then, when I was in my 20’s, the song took on a whole different meaning. Instead of being a silly disco song, I started to appreciate the juxtaposition of the tragedy of loss of the love in the song, with the upbeat infectious driving dance beat. To me, it encapsulates the feeling of monumental life altering infatuation that could evolve into love, but deep down you know its doomed, but these feelings are so intoxicating that you can’t say no to them. You embrace the coming train wreck, though you know better.
Give me a year, I’ll probably write about this song again.
I mean, I know it’s referring to a disco floor, but “disco round” is still a weird term.
Though the song came out in 1978, when I hear it, it makes me think of getting ready for elementray school in the early 80’s. My mom would play the “top 40” radio in the kitchen as she got all of us ready for school. And for whatever reason this song played one morning as I ate Frankenberry cereal, and became lodged in my memory.
I found this on Twitter/X this morning showing a bus in Brooklyn. I was out doing the Alt Parking at 8:30am and the water was coming up over the curb. This is a lot of rain. Like Texas flood kind’a rain. And last weekend we had the remnants of that tropical storm sit on top of the City for three days and dump loads of rain. Up where we live in Harlem, I don’t think about it flooding as compared to Lower Manhattan, which doesn’t take much submerge that part of the City. But it just won’t stop.
Taking the kid to school this morning meant that we had to trudge out in the rain. We had on rain boots, and rain coats, with umbrellas over the top of us. Not that any of this gear stop us from getting wet, but it wasn’t that bad. And what made it a fun walk to school was the numerous amount of puddles along the way. Which, when you are wet already, what’s the harm of slashing in a puddle or two. And there is something deeply innocent and extremely satisfying in stomping through a puddle. It never is not fun. It is an act that serves no purpose other than making you happy, and identifying people who are sticks-in-the-mud.
The North London Derby ended in a draw. From my totally biased Tottenham Hotspur point of view – it was just as good as a win.
And, I started making a playlist for when I am at the gym. It’s nothing but disco music, but specifically, the disco music I remember hearing as a kid. And as I am compiling this list, I can’t shake the feeling that this music is sweaty. Like it conjures up the feeling of being hot and sweaty on a dance floor – in the Summer. And it’s not an image I get in my mind, but a feeling, a sensation of being on polyester and dancing.
