At a certain undetermined point every weekend, I don’t really think that I exist outside of the rhythm. I close my eyes and let the music take me over. The beat becomes my breath; the momentum my movements. My body folds and expands over and over again with the ups and downs of the melody. Ever since I was a child, no sonic experience has grabbed hold of me in this way quite like that of disco.
Born in 1996 and growing up in the 21st century, when I explain my love for the genre, the general consensus always seems to be the same thing — you were born about 40 years too late to really enjoy it. However, I hear disco in the world around me today, and empathize the effects of both the onset and dispersion of the music. I feel the 808; the drugs; the drag; but I also feel the homophobia, and the violence and rejection experienced by those who came before me.
Chances are you know someone with a “Disco Sucks” shirt (I’m almost sure Forever21 has recreated the style and print every other year for the past ten spring/summer collections). A capitalist miracle, the marketing campaign was launched in the early ‘80s following the rejection of disco from rocker radio stations. They claimed that the mainstreaming of disco meant a degradation of the quality of popular music.
However, what they failed to mention was the underlying cause of the rejection of disco — it, predominantly existing and thriving in gay, Latinx and Black urban subcultures, meant a melding of previously invisible gayness with mainstream heterosexual culture. Disco clubs, soon after their inception, became some of the first gay clubs; there were no limits to what could happen inside, and men and women were urged to listen to what they wanted, dress how they wanted, and kiss who they wanted.
In the early 1970s, when whole radio stations began to dedicate themselves to 24/7 disco rotation, white women soon caught on and fled to clubs by the masses. The logic thereafter was skewed — if she wants to spend her nights dancing with gay men, she won’t have any time to have sex with straight men.
As you can imagine, like all scenarios where straight white men lose a bit of power, battle ensued. The war on disco took shape in the form of the Disco Sucks campaign, as well as Disco Demolition — nights where entrance fees to sporting events were subsidized by disco record donations, which were then collected and burned on the field between regular game proceedings.
To hate disco became popular culture only a few years after its reign began, and it was soon replaced by a new type of pop, as well as the hyper-masculinized (and simultaneously completely effeminate) ‘80s hair metal.
Nonetheless, while disco’s life spanned only about a decade, its legacy and influence on the progression of pop music still carries on today. Now, in 2017, its presence is arguably stronger than it has been since its heyday.
Artists such as Selena Gomez, Ariana Grande and Alex Newell, amongst others, have each claimed pronounced spaces within the pop music sphere by claiming respective disco-influenced sounds in their most recent works. Even EDM artists such as Kygo and Zedd have found a new sweet spot in radio-friendly hit-making by melding Jamaican dancehall and New York disco, while branding it as a completely new genre named “tropical house.”
Regardless, as we enter a re-feminization of popular culture, and rely on counterculture to keep our bodies and minds occupied in a time of political turmoil, disco music has found its revival in the same way it got its start — by providing a space to collect, organize, rebel and queer the shit out of society.
Disco’s comeback can signify a few things. For one, queerness has began to be accepted back into the mainstream. However, as we can see, this is largely being piloted by straight women who have gay followings. Ariana has become the new Donna Summer, and although they stand as the voice of an underrepresented community, the constituents of said community are largely left without their own in the forefront.
Secondly, in the wake of such travesties such as the 2016 Pulse massacre, as well as the rolling back of LGBTQ status on the 2020 Census, what queer rights were previously secured are on the verge of being written off. This couples itself conveniently with the return of the music and culture of disco, indicating the reemergence of the gay club as the main queer safe space. Historically, since queer people were not allowed to exist in public, gay clubs offered a reprieve — not only could you be sexually free, but you could do it while simultaneously dancing your ass off and organizing the next protest.
While we have yet to have a complete revival of its club culture, the sounds and sights of disco have crept their way back into the counterculture, as well as the mainstream. Whether this signifies a more progressive future, or merits warning of another wave of Disco Demolition and masked anti-queer movements, you’ll be able to find me and my friends on the dance floor, feeling the heat in our hips and lust in our lips, no matter how cliché it might sound.