Disco's Revenge (2024)

[bunniefuu]

Love always wins.

Disco is love.

Disco is a celebration of love.

Disco is a celebration of life.

A celebration of hope.

A celebration of humanity.

That's what it is.

It felt like family,

in the disco sound.

Everybody supported everybody.

That was the thing that was

so cool in the seventies.

Disco felt, to me, more

revolutionary than the Panthers.

During the disco movement,

you could come

from any background

and you just fit in

and nobody felt uncomfortable.

Everybody was... was down

for everybody.

And it was like, "Let's make

the best out of a bad time."

And that's what we did.

And as it went away, the world

got more divided.

Us rock and rollers

here in Chicago,

think Disco sucks!

Disco sucks!

This is now

officially the world's largest

anti-disco rally.

We took all the disco records

that you brought tonight,

we got 'em in a giant box.

And we're gonna blow 'em up

real good.

Disco sucks!

Lost in Music

by Sister Sledge

Can't take away my music

I'm caught up in my music

No turning back,

uh-uh

Lost, ooh

We're lost in music

Caught in the trap

No turning back

We're lost in music

We're lost in music

Caught in the trap

No turning back

No turning back

We're lost in music

We're lost in music

From a very young age,

I knew that I was attracted

to the same sex.

Being g*y was not okay,

especially in Brooklyn.

I would get beat up regularly.

'f*gg*t' was a word

I heard almost daily.

It makes you feel scared

all the time.

There were no celebrity

g*y people.

There were no out stars.

There was no one on TV

that was g*y.

I'm living in that world.

And a friend of mine,

when I'm 13, says to me,

"You know, there's a place I

found, the West Village."

And I went down

to the West Village,

and here's this place

with men, same sex,

women, same sex,

talking together,

laughing together,

even holding hands and

walking down the street.

I was amazed.

New York and Greenwich Village

was probably the hippest,

most liberal place to grow up.

My parents' friends were

bebop musicians.

You know, I could come home

and I'd see Nina Simone

or Thelonious Monk

or Miles Davis

hanging out at our crib.

That was like,

pretty normal stuff.

I'm a street queen,

Christopher Street Queen.

A lot of us didn't have

a steady place to live.

Our g*y community could be g*y

wherever they were.

And New York was the Mecca.

They came in such numbers,

and the music was

being so vocal.

Ooh-ooh

There's something

in the air

Being a Greenwich Village kid,

a hippie, downtown kid,

I started to become a little bit

more politicized.

They had formed a section called

Lower Manhattan

Black Panther Party.

All power to the people.

And I wanted to be in with them.

So there was every kind

of march that would go past

my apartment and school

every day,

be it the teachers strike

or women's lib

or g*y lib, whatever.

There's still laws on the book

that are preventing us from

being who we are.

Like two people of the same sex

cannot dance together

on the dance floor.

There were a couple of others,

you know, sodomy.

All that stuff was

against the law.

Right now

Right now

Right

Right now

And there was a place

called The Stonewall.

It was a bar.

The cops go into Stonewall,

they bust the place because

people are dancing together.

And they regularly do this.

They start charging people,

and they take them out

to a paddy wagon

that's waiting outside.

The revolution will

not be televised

No

The g*y community

had endured it,

and endured it, and endured it.

And that night at Stonewall,

they just chose not to

endure it anymore.

The collective

anger unleashed us

and we were pushing and shoving.

It got larger and larger,

and more people were coming,

and then they set fires to the

trashcans and what have you.

And it turned into

five days of riots.

On the second night,

I walk out of the subway

and Sixth Avenue,

there's people blocking

the traffic.

Hey, hey!

We don't over-populate!

And that's like unheard of.

And there's this guy going

with around a clipboard.

"Can you get arrested?

Can you get arrested?"

I was like, "No way.

I can't get arrested!"

I don't know who

was organizing this,

but they were ready

like Freddie.

Obviously, if we're

to obtain all the rights

we deserve, we have to be

willing to fight for them.

We need an alternative

to the mafia bars,

and an alternative to just

sitting on the stoops.

I said will not be televised

It just won't be televised

They rioted every night

until Lindsay,

who was the mayor,

came on and said,

"We're going to do

everything we can.

We're going to change this law."

The revolution

is gonna be live

In 1971, it led to

that law being repealed.

That was the one thing that

opened the ability of g*y clubs

to survive legally more than

anything else that happened.

I was really young

when I started DJ-ing.

I was like 15, 16.

I DJ-ed in my room.

Sweet 16s, school dances,

parties.

I was always attracted to music

that was very soulful.

For the most part, it was

up-tempo R&B.

Back in the day,

everybody had a house party.

House parties put people in

touch with music so much.

They had the little record

players, the little 45s

where the record drops.

I was heavily influenced

by Gamble and Huff

from Philadelphia International,

and all the records they made.

The O'Jays or Harold Melvin

and the Blue Notes

or MFSB,

which is Mother, Father,

Sister, Brother.

Philly was a moment in time.

Rhythm & Blues before that,

there wasn't a lot of

instrumentation

because they didn't spend

that much money

putting those songs together.

Well, Philly developed its

own unique sound:

the use of lush strings,

a gospel inflection to

a lot of the vocals.

Urban sophistication

at its best.

And it's music that literally

drove people to dance.

Those grooves were so infectious

that you could play anything

by Gamble and Huff,

and you'd get an

immediate reaction

and people just vibe to it.

The root of like all dance music

that's on the soulful side.

We cut and wrote songs

that people can relate to,

like Love Is The Message.

These are songs that bring

people together.

So we came in there

and we banged out hits.

A lot of the songs were slow,

like The Love I Lost.

This was not disco music.

This was basically R&B stuff.

Back then, most of the time

they looked for the drummer

to set the pace, and they

deliver the grooves.

They weren't...

they didn't really tell

drummers what to play.

I say, "Look, let's put this,

let's put this in

another groove."

That's the groove that I used

on The Love I Lost.

They weren't really a disco

group until I came in

with that groove.

That's the 'four on the floor',

that's a walking beat.

The bass drum, to me,

is people walking like...

And the high-hat, to me,

is a melody.

Earl Young is the beat

of disco, no doubt about it.

What he did with The Love I Lost

when it came out,

the epitome of the club drummer.

The standard disco beat

with the bass drum,

the 'four on the floor.'

Now you've got to add

the high-hat next.

You can add it open or closed.

I'll do it closed first.

Now I'll do it with it open.

Now I'm going to add

the snare drum.

That's basic disco.

Bad luck.

We brought soul to New York.

Little clubs in New York

supported us

from the very beginning.

I was always

really drawn to the stories

of records, about records,

but about concerts

and things that I was

interested in.

I wrote about disco

really early on,

before it had a name.

I started going to several clubs

in the early Seventies.

I realized that there was a

whole other underground

of music.

I'm on Christopher Street

and I'm hearing this music,

and I'm going, "What is this?"

you know.

And I'm hearing this music,

and every time someone

comes out, I'm saying,

"What's that song?

What's that song?"

Radio was not playing

this music.

The most obvious

turning point for me

was going to

David Mancuso's Loft,

where I heard a lot of music

that I really loved,

that I hadn't heard

anywhere else.

I had heard that

The Loft was this place,

it was underground,

it was private.

You had to know someone

to get in.

You had to be a member, or you

had to know somebody

who was already a member.

But it never felt exclusive

the way clubs later did.

It was in the winter.

I was at a party

and they were playing

this really lame like

Rock and Roll music

that no one was dancing to.

And I started putting on some of

the Soul music that I had.

A girl who was there said,

"Hey, you want to go

to The Loft with me?"

That's how I got invited

to The Loft.

And these guys held the

key to me going to The Loft.

And they said, "Listen,

do you have a problem

with g*y people?

This place is not all g*y,

but there are going to be

a substantial number

of g*y people there.

You're going to see guys

dancing with guys.

And if that bothers you,

forget we invited you."

And I said, "Oh no, I'm going!"

It was 647 Broadway.

I'll never forget that address.

And it looks like a

broken-down factory.

So the door opens,

the stairs are all rickety.

And the thing about The Loft

was you knew them

even though you didn't know them

because you had one thing

in common - the music.

$2.99 each, and the door opens,

and it's dark in there.

It's, I mean, I couldn't

see anything.

When we go in, the door closes

behind and it's dark.

And then all of a sudden, I see

that huge mirrored ball.

It was big,

and the spots are flying

around the wall,

the snare hits...

a bright, bright light flashes.

Everyone started screaming!

The sound was gorgeous.

It was beautiful.

Like I was at a symphony.

Like I was in a theater.

Okay, so there's this white guy,

with long hair, who looks like

Jesus, that's playing music.

He knew how to take that

song from beginning,

middle to end,

take you on a journey to bring

you up and bring you down,

and bring you up, and bring you

down, and bring you up.

He had a method to his madness,

which we really appreciated

because it challenged us

as dancers to go to that level.

Anything that

you're doing with audio

must be as pure as possible.

We're all spiritually connected.

You can't capture

anything that's free.

Free in spirit.

I went to The Loft.

I'd never seen anything like it

because it was like...

we were in a party,

but it was in his house.

So it's like car keys were

there, the mail was there,

dishes in the sink,

and it'd be three to four

hundred people in there dancing.

And it... It was not Studio 54,

it was a loft.

So it wasn't something

like, you know,

some grand sort of place.

It was a loft, but great music.

He didn't mix beat to beat,

so the songs would end,

and then the audience

would just clap,

and then he'd play

the next song.

I had never

seen anything like this.

The Loft was magic.

It was very simply magic.

I loved it. I loved

everything about it.

David used to always say,

"If you can get groups of people

from different backgrounds,

different income groups,

different races,

creeds, colors, sexuality.

If you can put them all in a

room and get them to dance,

that's the beginning

of social progress."

That was the interesting

part of it,

and that's where

people connected.

That's very important

to me, okay?

And The Loft was a community.

If you didn't have money, as

long as you had an invitation,

you got in.

The Loft.

There would be no Nile Rodgers

if it wasn't for those clubs.

I mean, this underground

New York club scene

was phenomenal.

And that, to me is one

of the greatest things

that came out of this

thing called disco.

It was a leveler

in a way, for...

for different people

who had differences,

that they could come

together and dance

and enjoy themselves,

and love the same music.

The first

wave was the R&B,

then Rock and Roll,

and then the Boogaloo

came along.

What's interesting about

the influence of Latin music,

it was part geographic.

Growing up in East Harlem,

you know, we had everybody.

The Italians, Jews,

Blacks, Puerto Ricans.

We all had to get along.

And music engulfed

the whole neighborhood

because you could hear it coming

out of the fire escapes,

people singing out

of the subways.

It started in 1972

from the Latino kids

in the Bronx

getting away from doing salsa,

which was a quote unquote

"dance that was done

by their parents."

The younger kids didn't

want to do that,

and they figured out

how to do the Hustle.

I recorded my first songs,

which were Boogaloo songs.

I started to get away

from that style

and I kept looking

for different things.

I started to attend

the nightclubs,

which nobody was doing

back then.

One of the first places

that really kind of stuck

in my mind was a place

called the Sanctuary.

Francis Grasso.

He was one of the people

to play music

in a kind of mixed concept.

To hear records segue

into another

was completely

something different

that nobody had been doing.

And then I saw kids dancing

with one another.

It didn't matter who you were.

They were doing freestyle.

It was no set movement

in what they were doing.

And I said, "Whoa!"

And you can imagine what was

going through my mind.

A lot of people didn't know that

I didn't need the radio.

I could influence people

through clubs.

From that early era of clubs,

'cause they didn't call it

a disco or a club,

it was, you know,

you come to a party.

In the same way as Rock and Roll

had to be given a name,

instead of "Race music",

it became Rock and Roll,

music that was house music,

that was dance music

that we danced to became

known as "Disco."

Vince Aletti wrote an article

and coined the phrase "Disco."

And Vince manages

to capture the sense

of what those spaces were like,

and the effect that

that music had.

What did feel unique, it felt

like you were hearing,

you know, somebody's

work of art.

It's one of the things that

really made me want

to think more seriously

about club music,

and about the talent that it

took to be a really good DJ.

Funky Nassau by The

Beginning of the End

Nassau's gone funky

Nassau's gone soul

Oh yeah, funky Nassau

Funky Nassau

Funky Nassau

Funky Nassau

Funky Nassau

Funky Nassau

Huh

I'm seeing the

invention of dance floor things.

And I'm understanding that

this is a very new

kind of industry.

I started playing

records in 1971,

and that took me

into the winter of '72.

I start thinking the only way

I'm going to do something

like The Loft, where I can

really create atmosphere

like David was doing,

is to own the place.

That's the only way

it will happen.

And I opened in

February of 1973.

I was still 17.

This was the back entrance

to The Gallery.

This was not here.

People would come outside

because it would be hot inside,

especially in the summer,

and they would hang

out over here.

Initially, any bar would

throw two speakers up

and be a club.

This, we walked in and we

painted the canvas.

And a lot of people call

it the first disco,

and it really was.

It was really the first space

that was stepping forward

in the design of clubs

was The Gallery.

It's gonna rain, yeah

Oh no

It's gonna rain, yeah

Oh no

It's gonna rain, yeah

I can see the rain, y'all

It's gonna rain, yeah

I can see the rain, yeah

It's gonna rain, yeah

I can feel the rain

It's gonna rain, yeah

Oh, I can feel the rain,

yeah

It's gonna rain, yeah

My body's soaking wet, y'all

It's gonna rain, yeah

Oh, my body's soaking wet,

y'all

It's gonna rain, yeah

Oh, my body's soaking wet

Nicky Siano,

I think was one of

the Wild Men of disco.

Nicky was just,

you know, out there,

and his crowd was out there

along with him.

If it was a

big change from one record

to another, that was fabulous.

Everybody would be jumping up

on the floor and screaming

like a mass orgasm, verbally.

I remember this guy who walked

in the first night we opened.

And he goes,

"The future!"

That's what he says.

Let me tell you, this place

is a joint.

This is the kind of place

you could bring

any one of your cool friends.

They have all types of people,

they have people who dance,

people pop up and down.

You can get high,

stay here all night.

You can live at The Gallery

every Saturday night.

I mean, there were a few

g*y clubs in the city,

but, you know, there was kinda

sort of stereotypical g*y clubs.

The Gallery was something that

was completely different.

Myself and Larry Levan

were probably

the most popular black kids

hanging out.

And I hired Frankie at the end

of that first night

to work for me as my decorator.

And he brought Larry along,

and he said,

"This guy's a little bit crazy,

but he's really talented."

And I said, "Okay, we can

use the help."

Larry and Frankie came

up under Nicky's tutelage.

There were days that all three

of us were in the booth

and he was teaching us

how to actually operate

the equipment,

how to listen to music

and what to listen for.

And eventually they become DJs.

Frankie, the Godfather of House.

Larry, the Paradise Garage.

Listening to Nicky,

he spins a story.

He always stressed to us,

"You need to know your music."

Because people who

went to the clubs -

back then in the beginning -

heard basically the same

songs at every club

because they were only so many

songs to be played

that were danceable,

that we liked.

Walter Gibbons, Jellybean

and other DJs

used to always hang

around my booth

to see what I was playing.

I would be there with

a pad and a pen

and every record that he played

that I didn't know what it was,

I'd go up and ask him

what it is.

I was such a pain.

He talks about it to me

what he sees me.

"I'm going to play this record.

I know this kid's going

to come up here

and ask me what it is."

And then in the later days,

they would hang around

my booth to see if I passed out

and they needed a DJ

to fill in for me.

I didn't look at

what genre it was.

Was it danceable?

Did it have a musical break?

And if it's vocal, does it

have a message?

Soul Makossa by Manu Dibango

Soul Makossa,

that record became

a huge hit for the DJs

and for club music.

And without any airplay, it

started to climb to sales chart.

Record companies

started noticing it.

Atlantic Records picks up

the import,

puts it out and starts

promoting it.

In the bottom of all

this are the radio stations.

Radio stations were

a very powerful network,

and they were being

forced to play records

that they hadn't wanted

to play before.

These were records that were

just part of the fabric

of New York City dance culture,

as well as the hip-hop culture.

They were just big

New York records.

Lady Marmalade by Labelle

Hey sister, go sister,

go sister, go sister

Hey sister, go sister,

go sister, go sister

He met Marmalade down

in old New Orleans

Struttin' her stuff

on the street

She said, Hello, hey Joe

You wanna give it a go?

Yeah, gitchie-gitchie

yeah-yeah-da-da

Gitchie-gitchie

yeah-yeah here

At the time, we weren't

trying to make a song

that would fit into some

sort of category.

Creole Lady Marmalade

For LaBelle,

the Continental Baths

was really most significant

in terms of g*y nightlife.

It was really a bathhouse

where guys went to meet.

They were in towels

as we performed,

and we were like... there.

When you're that

close to people,

it was a very call and response

type of interaction.

And you're singing and

they're responding.

It is like being in church.

Marmalade

Voulez-vous coucher

avec moi?

We were kind of

matching our audience.

The more flamboyant we became,

the more flamboyant they became.

Of course, we couldn't

let them look better

than us on stage, so...

Okay, when the music

starts getting big,

and stank, meaning funky,

you gotta start dancing, okay?

Do the best you can.

Oh!

Gitchie-gitchie

yeah-yeah-da-da

Gitchie-gitchie

yeah-yeah here

Mocha-choco-lata-yeah-yeah

The leaning into all of the

fantastical costumes and stuff,

that's q*eer stuff.

I loved LaBelle.

I mean, that sound that they

had was so exciting.

It was everything that we stood

for in the early Seventies.

Voulez-vous

Coucher

Avec moi?

Babe

Up until the FBI

basically disbanded

the Panthers,

the Black Panther Party

was probably

the most loving situation

that I had been in

with a group of people.

My girlfriend, Paula,

she and I were walking

up Eighth Street.

When we got to Eighth Street

and Broadway,

a pop-up disco happened

and we walked in there, and

they played three songs.

Donna Summer,

"Love to Love You, Baby,"

The Village People,

"San Francisco,"

and Eddie Kendricks, "Girl You

Need a Change of Mind."

And we hear...

I love to love you, baby.

I...

And it was just like,

"Wow, what is this sh*t?"

I'm telling you, man, for a

brother like me...

that was like... like the first

time you have sex

and you're flying.

And then Eddie Kendricks.

"I am for women's rights,

but I want equal nights."

You know, so it

was all political.

Love to love you, baby

Mmm!

I love to love you, baby

The 12-inch record had

just become this new format,

and they were really long,

and I had never really been

in an environment

where the music didn't stop.

This night, nothing stopped.

Love to love you, baby

Oh

A totally disparate crowd.

g*y people, straight people.

Asian people. Black people.

Puerto Rican people.

Everybody was dancing

and everybody was

having a good time.

It's magnetism that was

from this disco world

that people just couldn't help,

that they were just

being drawn in.

To be a disenfranchised

Black child

and to grow up, and you

become this teenager.

You walk into this joint

and you know everybody

is down with you.

It almost brought tears

to my eyes.

I couldn't believe it.

And I looked at my girlfriend,

and I said,

"This sh*t is more revolutionary

than the party.

They're getting people

who don't normally

associate together to be down."

So I called Bernard up.

Bernard Edwards,

my former partner who passed

away some time ago.

I said, "This is the music

I want to play."

And two weeks later, I wrote

Everybody Dance.

"Doo doo, doo doo.

Clap your hands."

Nile and Bernard, they were

going to start this new group

and they were looking for

a female vocalist.

Mind you, now, by the

time I hit New York,

I had worked with a number

of bands on the road

and worked with The Spinners.

So I'm a little critical,

you know.

When I heard Nile, Bernard

and Tony play,

I was blown away.

Bernard loved my sense of rhythm

and what I could do.

And he just said, "Man, if you

learned how to chuck."

"What do you mean, chuck?"

He says, "Well, let me

just show you."

And he picked up the guitar,

and he just was just doing

something like...

And I was like going...

He said, "No, no, no,

don't do that."

He said, "You got to keep the

16th notes going all the time."

Imagine now the drums just go,

"Boom, boom, boom, boom."

And you...

The engineer who recorded us

was also a DJ at one of the

coolest clubs in New York,

and it was a downtown club

where all of the new

black urban professionals -

or we call them 'Buppies' -

would go.

About two or three weeks go by

and I get a phone call,

and he says,

"Man, I need you to come

down to the Night Owl."

I was like going, "Dude, I can't

get into the Night Owl.

They're not going to let me in.

You know, I only have, like,

jeans and a plaid jacket

or something."

He said, "Trust me, bro.

Just tell them

that you wrote

Everybody Dance."

I said, "That's... okay. Cool."

So I go to Night Owl and

the door man goes,

"Hey, my man, you can't come

in here dressed like that."

And I said, "Oh, I know. But

Robert told me to tell you

that I wrote Everybody Dance."

"Everybody Dance? My man,

come here. Come on inside."

He takes me inside.

The woman who's now going

to take the money says,

"Whoa, whoa, you can't come in

here dressed like that."

"He wrote Everybody Dance."

"Everybody Dance? Yo, come

on in here, my brother."

So now I'm thinking that there's

some kind of joke going on.

I get into the club. I don't

know how the DJ spotted me.

He saw me, and right away, he

put on Everybody Dance.

And just from the drum fill...

You heard this

bloodcurdling scream.

Everybody - "Oh!!"

packed the dance floor.

And I went, "What?"

I couldn't believe my eyes.

I walked over to him.

He was giggling like crazy.

Everybody Dance by Chic

Do-do-do, clap your hands,

clap your hands

Then the clubs, it's,

you know, it's instant.

Folks wouldn't stop dancing.

Everybody Dance.

I mean, that was...

When you hear it,

you have to dance.

He played it.

He then played it again.

He then played it again.

He played it again.

He played it for at least -

and I'm not saying this for

dramatic purposes -

played it at least an hour.

That was my first time hearing

my first pop composition

out in the real world.

I was blown away and

I don't think I've ever

had that feeling again.

I've probably been

chasing it all my life.

Everybody dance

Do-do-do, clap your hands,

clap your hands

That unison singing was like

"What is happening?!"

They weren't in harmony.

The voice sounded like

one voice at times.

It was that connected.

Glamor went hand in hand

with disco music.

Nile wanted it to be

a stylish group.

This beautiful,

fashion-oriented Black crowd.

"Wow, we want to be their band!"

The labels understood how to

make better dance records.

Being seven years old

in Wellsville, Ohio,

and hearing Knock on Wood

for the first time,

I lost my mind. I was like,

"What on Earth is this?"

Knock on Wood

by Amii Stewart

Lightning

The way you love me

is frightening

I think I better knock

Knoc

I feel seen in it.

On wood

Baby

Disco was a blessing.

It wasn't an A&R guy that was

deciding what the music was.

It was people because

it started in the clubs.

And I think that's a reason why

so many people broke through.

The door was wide open for

a lot of talented people

to break through, a lot of them

African-Americans,

a lot of them women.

It opened up a door

that I don't think

would have normally been open,

and the record labels

couldn't resist the fact

that there was something

going on here.

A lot of the music that was made

during that period

had something to say.

People were not just, not just

doing the sign, Y M C A,

but people saw it as like a

music you just jump around to

rather than looking at the

deeper meaning.

And there were other songs,

other examples.

I Will Survive

by Gloria Gaynor

I was petrified

Kept thinking

I could never live

Without you by my side

But then I spent

so many nights

Thinking how you

did me wrong

And I grew strong

And I learned how

to get along

And so you're back

From outer space

Probably the,

I would say the greatest

disco era song ever.

That is like, "You're not going

to mess with me anymore.

Whatever you've done,

I'm done with that.

I will not be going there

because I will survive.

No matter what you do to me,

I'm going to survive."

Just turn around now

'Cause you're not

welcome anymore

So in the beginning,

disco was the thing

that was happening.

Hip-hop really didn't

become this thing,

literally "Hip-Hop," until

the early Eighties.

What went on in the Seventies

was a combination

of different things.

When you have records like

The Mexican by Babe Ruth

or Love Is The Message by MFSB

or Bra by Cymande,

these records were getting

played in the hip-hop scene

as well as at The Loft,

or Nicky Siano's Gallery.

And hip-hop.

I had already been doing it

up in the Bronx.

Uptown, there'd be

very few whites,

mostly Blacks and Latinos

where we came from.

Versus downtown,

blacks and whites

in the room, jamming.

I came up with a system

where I would take

the drum breakdown

of particular songs

in the areas of pop, rock,

jazz, blues, funk.

We've got our own thing

We've got it

We've got our own thing

We've got it

A lot of those songs

were quote unquote

"disco songs."

Disco records, they had

heat to them,

but I had to do, like,

serious research.

Got to be Real

by Cheryl Lynn

What you find, ah

What you feel now

What you know, ah

To be real

The disco 12-inch, I would

put it up with a light,

and if I put it up with a light

and the shiniest part

was where the least band

members were playing

with the drummer.

And I would put it down there,

and that's where

the break would live.

I would take these particular

areas where the drummer

had a minute to solo

and that there,

with duplicate copies of it, I

would manually cut and paste it,

and extend that area,

so that I can come up with a

music bed for the breakers,

and then later the rappers.

Frisco Disco

by Eastside Connection

Ladies and gentlemen

Welcome aboard

Disco Airlines Flight 78

With disco you can't

go wrong

Hip-hop and

the industry owes a lot

to what that scene, that

movement created.

As far as DJ culture

is concerned,

this thing was brand new.

The whole phenomenon

of taking a record

and segueing it into

another record.

These guys had the ability to

keep the music going

was a revelation unto itself.

And then other innovations came

and built on top of that.

All right. I just want to say

that there are some DJs

who are classics and

some who are not.

The DJs, they gave me a chance.

You know, they sort of, they let

me in their inner circle.

I was the first person to ever

substitute for David,

nobody else ever did.

And I said to myself,

"You know, there's two

turntables here,

and there are two, there's a

knob on each turntable.

What the hell do I

need a mixer for?

Just, you know, fade one in

and fade the other one out,

and do it at the same time."

And everybody was like,

"Crazy. Wow, wow, wow.

There's a mix at The Loft!"

The blend,

this is how you do it.

You take the needle and you

listen in your headphones.

You know these two records

have a very similar beat,

and you have a turntable that

only goes 2% one way

and 2% the other way.

So it's got to be

close to the beat.

And then you keep putting

the needle on the record

and you hear it kind of match,

and then you bring volume up,

and you turn the other one down.

And then I said to

a friend, I said,

"How do I hold the record?"

He said, "Oh, put the 45

underneath the LP,

it'll slip on the LP."

And sure enough it did.

And I slowly was able

to start beat matching.

Once I had a dream of

having three turntables,

and in the middle of a change

there would be a sound effect.

The next week

I got a third turntable.

Nicky would play

Love Is The Message.

He had two, three turntables,

and he would loop it, loop it.

When you would get to

the break of the record,

Nicky would just play it, and

everybody started chanting,

"Turn this m*therf*cker out,

turn this m*therf*cker out!"

And that was ecstasy for me.

I would match up lyrics

in songs to create...

And sounds. And the lights

would match the music.

You don't get that anymore.

Those tweeters, boy.

You did all the highs.

It was wonderful.

The bass made you feel like you

were getting done royally.

That was a very sexual thing.

After a week of being,

I guess, a busboy,

a waitress, a hairdresser,

a dancer,

a mother, a husband, you know,

any of those things.

And then get it off,

get rid of it, you know,

and dance it away,

get excited about

watching other people.

Just... I was a club bunny.

I went to Mudd Club,

I went to Danceteria,

I went to Studio 54,

I went to Paradise Garage.

The DJ.

I probably went to go see

the most was Larry Levan.

His mixing ability was

quite incredible.

I was in my own world,

I was dancing for hours

and hours,

and I got educated to like...

Supernature.

I never heard Supernature

on radio,

but I heard it at the

Paradise Garage.

By Cerrone, just this

great track to me

that took you in different

dimensions.

And it seemed like that lasted

like two hours, that record.

There was this freedom.

You were just in a sea of people

moving to the same beat,

joyously and very,

almost tribal.

He was charming and reckless,

and he could get away with

anything in the Garage.

It was his house.

What the record company

felt was that we had

this magical fairy dust that we

could sprinkle over anybody.

They offered us Bette Midler.

They offered us

the Rolling Stones.

They offered us all

these big acts.

We were like, "Sh... we're going

to tell Keith Richards

what to play? I'm going to tell

Mick Jagger what to sing?"

So we basically said, "Look,

instead of giving us

the most popular group,

why don't you give us

the least popular group?"

They literally said, "Give us

some obscure group

that no one knows."

We didn't have any hit records.

I would have records out that

were never played

on the radio.

They were played in other

countries, but never at home.

Jerry Greenberg started

describing us,

"You got to meet these girls,

they're family.

They flock together

like birds of a feather

whenever they come

up to the label."

He said that they were

like family to us.

That's all we needed to hear.

We had just been in

Germany recording

with Silver Convention,

"Fly, robin, fly!

Up, up to the sky!"

And now the "Yowsah,

Yowsah, Yowsah"

people want to work with you.

And I remember saying,

"I don't know..."

We Are Family

by Sister Sledge

We are family

I got all my sisters with me

When we worked with Nile Rodgers

and Bernard Edwards,

it was different from

any other session.

They knew what they wanted.

We are family

And we were just finishing

up the last lyrics

to We Are Family

as she walks in,

she hears it, "What is this?"

Uh, "This is your album."

I wasn't allowed to hear

any of the songs

until it was time to record it.

Everyone can see

we're together

As we walk on by

And

I can honestly say the first

time I heard Greatest Dancer,

and We Are Family,

or any of those songs

was the first time the

public heard them.

Because I didn't know how they

were going to come out.

Kathy pulled me aside.

Because I was like

this goofy... 15 then,

16 by the time the record

came out, with braces.

And I would always ask him.

"Nile, is this ever going

to be on the radio?"

And I looked her right

in the face, and I said,

"Yes, Kathy, I promise you this

is going to be on the radio."

I didn't know if it was going

to be on the radio,

but I felt it in my heart.

We are family

Get up everybody and sing

Sing it to me

He would always say,

"Just trust us,

like, we know what we're doing."

I remember waking up to...

you know,

because the alarm would go off

and the song would come on -

our song's being played on the

radio for the first time.

...in you and the things you do

You won't go wrong

Oh no, this is our

family jewel

I mean, Sister Sledge, that

album was the best album

we've ever written,

pound for pound.

Those are the best

collection of songs.

And man, she went out there

and tore those songs up.

Well, this is our first

really big break,

so we're taking advantage

of it, even if it is tiring.

They may be the only

group in the top ten

where two of the group still

have the bands on their teeth.

Isn't that interesting?

Yeah.

That's nice.

Can you imagine the

Bee Gees all coming out

with their hits and all having

bands on their teeth.

"Stayin Alive, Stayin Alive."

I think disco is something that

made us look really great,

that it really was one

of the first few times

that q*eer people, black folks,

and anyone in between

were able to really shine.

It was amazing to me as

someone who grew up

in the Fifties and Sixties,

to see what seemed like

genuine acceptance

of a g*y culture at

the club level...

and not just curiosity,

but acceptance

and interest in g*y life

through club life,

and through people

like Sylvester.

You Make Me Feel

by Sylvester

...I've been dancing

On the floor, darlin'

Sylvester might not have been

able to exist as an artist

in the Fifties.

Feel your body close...

He broke a whole

lot of really new ground.

Make me feel

It was a time when people

could be who they were,

and be free.

Sylvester is a forefather,

not only disco,

but of the q*eer expansion,

the non-binary of it all,

when there was

no language for it.

I was singing with Sylvester.

Originally we were doing

a lot of Top 40,

and that evolved

into a disco sound.

And I know you love me

Like you should

During that time,

there were those

that didn't want him

to be who he was.

Being a g*y artist,

let alone a Black g*y artist,

was something that

was very hidden.

They were out there,

but they were very closeted.

And they wanted to market

him as a straight artist,

you know, R&B, whatever.

And he wasn't having it.

And Sylvester was

the one that said,

"I'm not doing it.

I am who I am.

Accept me or, you know... bye!"

I feel real

I feel real

You Make Me Feel Mighty Real.

Sylvester had brought it to me

when it was a work in progress,

and I played it, and the

album went gold.

I still didn't really understand

what that meant.

I just knew, like...

I put it on,

people went crazy all the time.

But the fact that he gave me

a gold record for it, oh...

Was great.

My style and from,

where I come from

is so totally different

from another place.

It's like night and day.

No, I don't compare

myself to anyone.

That's why it's hard for me

to get a job sometimes.

I stand on that man's shoulders.

There would be no Billy...

If there wasn't a Sylvester.

I've been singing,

like, since I was a child.

Really. Gospel singing,

always singing in church

and stuff that.

But I still sing Gospel music

everywhere I go.

You make me feel

No matter

what I do, or where I go,

or what I'm into, it just

does not leave me.

It's just there.

That feeling, that sound

is just embedded in me,

and it just won't ever come out.

And I don't ever want

it to come out.

You make me feel

Hey

Mighty real

Hey

The shrieking that leaves you,

like, euphoric.

You know it's, it's like...

that's Gospel.

Mighty real

Everybody felt seen

in it, in the music.

You make me feel

Ooh-ooh-ooh

It's the fellowship.

A lot of people,

especially in disco,

they were ostracized

in those communities.

It doesn't mean that they still

don't have a love

for the Black church.

You make me feel

Mighty real

Yeah

Yeah

Ah

Yeah

Yeah

Ah

Yeah

Yeah

Mmm

Mmm

Oo

Look, nothing is, is pure and

utopian and fantastic,

but it was certainly as close

as I've ever seen.

Being a Black Panther and going,

"Man, all we wanted to

do was touch people.

All we wanted to do was

bring in the masses

and say, Man, we're one.

We're one America,

one army, even though we're

disparate people."

That's what we used to say,

"Power to the people."

And we met all the people.

And that's what disco gave us.

They gave us power

to all the people.

If you could dance.

So in the beginning, disco

was a cool thing,

before it became

over-commercialized,

watered down,

cornball. You feel me?

Because it was something

that we felt

like we made happen.

The very popular

and very lucrative

new business called Disco.

It's bigger than Elvis,

bigger than the Beatles.

And I saw the reaction of people

around New York,

and I saw hits being made

on the floor here.

150,000 singles were being sold

in the New York market

with very little radio play

on the pop stations.

All of a sudden, it was not

underground anymore.

It was commercially viable,

and people were making

mad money,

and it was like, "Well, if you

handle it the right way,

we can make more mad money."

And so it was like, you know...

Hey Jerry, what's the story?

You want a party,

you want to dance,

you want a great night out?

Come on down to Jerry's Disco.

These students are enrolled

in a ten week class

at Humber College.

Billboard Magazine now stages

two conventions a year

so promoters can promote

their products.

Once disco became a name,

a sellable thing that

record companies

wanted to make money off of,

it became so formulaic.

Just one bad record

after the other.

I don't think that 'hip'

can be a mass movement.

Everything became disco music,

for at least three years.

You know, it's like

anything else.

You know, familiarity

breeds contempt.

A lot of the songs, you know,

when I started shopping

for them,

they had "Disco! Disco!"

They would, the singer would

say that in the song.

And that was the part like, ugh,

we didn't want that part.

It was on the 12-inch,

"Disco 12-Inch."

That was kind of like

a "hell no" too.

Disco sucks. Disco is a disease.

Disco is fascism.

When Punk Magazine

first came out,

we were rebelling against

everything.

We wanted to be new.

The label of the editorial was -

in very bold letters -

"Death to Disco."

It was annoying because they

were believing the hype.

It was like, we fought so hard

to have something else heard

other than what

was on the radio.

Disco seemed to us to be

the quintessential music

of mediocrity.

And we said, "Where's the

great Rock and Roll?"

And the fashion of disco,

it looked like you know,

swingers at a Holiday Inn.

We didn't. We wanted to wear

T-shirts and sneakers

and black leather jackets.

And we had a big Fonz poster.

We loved the Fonz, you know.

He was what we aspired to be.

And listen, right from the head.

Start off with just snare

drum... or just bass drum.

Just bass drum, nothing else.

Leave this out.

Everything's going to be based

around the bass drum.

Okay. Let's get it as hot and as

pulsating as we can.

Yeah, that sounds bad!

It got to

a point where there was

just so much disco.

I mean, I was getting hundreds

of new releases a week

and I was DJing three

or four nights a week.

So I was constantly listening

to new stuff and going,

"This is not danceable.

Why is it on a 12-inch?

Why does it say 'disco'?"

That branding, you know,

"It's a disco tune,"

please. That started

making me sick.

It was all about sales.

It wasn't about the love

of the music

and how good it was.

It was just about money.

Have no fear, Paco is here.

Paco's my name,

and disco's my game.

We'll boogie down 'til

10 o'clock tonight

with the best disco songs

in the nation.

Over time,

when it sort of exploded

into the real "disco" period,

it became extreme.

The extremes of sexuality,

the extremes of drug abuse,

the extremes of, you know,

sort of individuals doing

harm to themselves.

You're offered all sorts

of drugs and drink,

and you're going to say no?

Please, you want to experiment

and have some fun.

You know, roulette.

"Come on, take this."

"I'll take the yellow one."

"That red one. What does it do?"

"You'll find out."

Ethyl Chloride is

something that tennis players

use if they have an injury

to numb them.

And people were spraying it on

rags and inhaling it,

and getting a buzz off of it.

So they would spray it

and give you the hankie,

and it was just out

of their mouth.

Yeah, they'd go like

this on you.

It's horrible. Probably

fried our brains.

I was using a lot of drugs

and I was out of control.

It was out of control.

Everyone was high.

My best friend called me

and said,

"I tried heroin.

And it's fantastic."

The drugs had taken

over my life so much

that I felt like there was

a wall between me

and other people.

That was the beginning

of the end for me.

Disco Inferno

by The Trammps

Saturday Night Fever,

one of the most successful

films of the year.

The movie already has grossed

nearly $100 million

in the United States

and Canada alone.

Over 10 million

albums of the soundtrack

by the Bee Gees have been sold,

and it has made a superstar

out of 24 year old

John Travolta.

It's a young man, going through,

trying to think of what

he wants to do

for the rest of his life.

And I think it's a very

important film.

That was a seminal point

because it was a

mass-marketed movie,

and it introduced literally

millions of people

across America to

a particular element

of the club scene at that time.

Burn, baby, burn

Disco inferno

Burn, baby, burn

Burn that mother down

Clubs were siloed in those days.

There were the

underground clubs,

there were Black clubs like

Leviticus and Othello

and other places.

But in Bay Ridge and some of

these other neighborhoods,

which is where Saturday Night

Fever was, was set,

that was a whole

different thing.

All kinds of places were

converted at night to discos.

Some places - restaurants

or whatever.

And it was a separate scene,

and that was the scene

that got projected.

That was the scene that blew up.

I think for a lot of people it

became aspirational.

He became this 'King of

the Night', you know,

dressed and spinning

women around.

And one of its by-products

was that everybody

made a disco record.

Ethel Merman

made a disco record.

Yeah, there was an Avon lady

made a disco record,

it was endless.

It became like a marketing tool

for record companies.

And then next thing I know,

it became this next

level big thing,

and it's like super huge,

and Studio 54,

and all these other super

expensive discos that...

the folks that really laid

this foundation

really couldn't go

to those places.

We didn't, you know,

you couldn't get in.

This is the scene outside

a New York disco

called Studio 54.

This is the place that's 'in'

with the disco crowd,

except that these people

are still out.

No pushing!

Of course, Liza Minnelli

and her kind of celebrities

sweep right through

the protective ranks

of door keepers.

One of the owners, Steve Rubell,

works the door.

He is choosy about who gets in,

and that adds to the mystique

and the desperation

to be accepted.

Oh, I just want to

watch the stars.

I saw Cheryl Tiegs,

Beverly Johnson,

quite a few celebrities.

Open up the doors now!

...because I'm going back to

Atlanta, Georgia tomorrow,

and I've seen it in People

Magazine in every issue.

The zoo?

You go to the zoo to watch

the animals.

These people are crowded

here right now

to watch all these freaky people

file into this place.

Steve is like my biggest fan.

He's at the Gallery every

Saturday night

and he's opening this club,

and they want me to play there.

I was the first DJ at Studio 54.

On the night that it opened,

I had some friends over.

I was like,

"Let's go check it out."

So only one person

that was with us got in.

And then, I went there every

night and stood outside

until I was finally let in.

Everyone's a Winner

by Hot Chocolate

You're not shaved.

There's no way you're coming in.

There was that whole

curated crowd

that was there from Calvin

Klein, Andy Warhol,

Truman Capote. So there's

a lot of celebrity-driven...

in Studio 54.

Everyone's a winner, baby

That's the truth

Yes, that's the truth

Making love to you

is such a thrill

Everyone's a winner, baby

That's no lie

That's no lie

You never fail

To satisfy

Satisfy

Everyone talked about it.

If you were dressed

exotically like we were,

Steve would wave us in.

It was glamorous, and there

was celebrities,

and so forth, but I felt

uncomfortable.

It's just my opinion,

I thought we were part

of the scenery for people who

were wanting something

exotic at the same time.

But it was 'approved', and they

could go to the VIP room

with Halston, and Liza Minnelli

and these people.

When you're going, "You,

not you, you, not you."

You're hurting

a lot of feelings.

And it created a big backlash.

We tried to get into

Studio 54 one night

because Grace Jones

had called us up and said,

"Hey, you're my personal guest.

Just go to the stage door,

and tell them your

personal friends

of Miss Grace Jones, verbatim."

Thing is, we didn't know that

Grace Jones's speaking voice

is her real speaking voice.

She sounded like a cross

between Marlene Dietrich

and Bela Lugosi.

We were young, man.

We were kids.

We didn't know anything.

Somebody said,

"Knock on the door

and tell them you're personal

friends of Miss Grace Jones

with that accent?"

And we kept trying to

get the accent right.

"We are personal friends

of Miss Grace Jones."

Instead of the guy

letting us in,

he went, "Aw, f*ck off!"

We said, "No, no, no!

We're personal friends

of Miss Grace Jones!"

He came back to the door

and he said,

"Didn't I tell you to f*ck off?"

It's like, wow.

We are freezing,

our shoes were wet.

They ruined my expensive

Maud Frizon suede shoes.

Fortunately, I live

one block away.

On the way to my apartment,

we picked up two bottles

of Dom Perignon,

which we used to call

'Rock and Roll Mouthwash'

back in the day.

We were pissed off, so we down

the bottles of champagne

very quickly and I picked

up my guitar and jam.

So we wrote this song called,

'Aw, f*ck Off'.

And it was pretty good.

"Aw, f*ck off!"

You know it was like,

that kind of song.

And we were crying.

We had each other on the floor.

But Bernard then looks

at me and says -

he used to always pull his

sunglasses down over his nose

when he got serious.

And he says. "Yo, my man,

you do know this sh*t is

happening, right?"

You got to remember,

this is a couple of years

before hip-hop.

And I'm like, "Bernard,

we're not going to get,

Aw, f*ck Off on the radio."

He's like, "Let's work on it

man, that's what we do.

Let's work on it."

'Freak' is a good euphemism

for the other F-word.

And so we wrote Aw, Freak Off.

No matter how many times

we sang it and played it,

it was not lifting my skirt.

Boom. Light bulb goes off

over Bernard's head,

and he says, "Damn, it's like

that dance my kids are doing."

"What dance?"

Le Freak by Chic

Ah, freak out!

Le freak, c'est chic

Freak out

Ah, freak out

Le freak, c'est chic

Freak out

Now freak

Le Freak was so big, you know.

Now everybody was

interested in Chic.

That was the disco group.

That was the disco group

that actually made it.

And they were playing

their music inside,

and they couldn't

get in the club.

They wouldn't let them in.

When Le Freak came out,

I was doing The Freak.

I said freak

What disco music did do,

is it opened the barriers

of music being separated

and segregated.

There was R&B charts,

there were Pop charts.

I remember, I think it was

You Don't Send Me Flowers

Anymore

with Neil Diamond and

Barbra Streisand was #1.

And then, then Le Freak

came out,

and it went right to #1.

And people were livid.

I remember that was like,

"That can't happen.

We've got to do something

about this music,

it's out of control.

It has no color. It can do

whatever it wants.

And we can't control it."

I played for the Bianca Jagger

birthday party

where she rode in

on the white horse.

And all that was really nice,

but I got fired.

It was out of control.

He wanted

a certain type of people,

and created a big backlash.

And that became the vibe

for big clubs after that,

you know.

Quite a few of them opened up

and did extremely well.

I mean, you know, until

the summer of '79.

Comiskey Park

hosted a disco demolition today.

They blow up any disco records

you bring to the park.

WLUP's Steve Dahl

led his followers

in song and chants on the field.

Us rock and rollers

here in Chicago

think Disco sucks!

Disco sucks!

Telling people to

bring their disco records

and, "We're going to burn them"

and all this other

kind of stuff.

I just thought it was

absolutely stupid.

We are the Insane Coho Lips,

that's the anti-disco army.

It's not so much the

music that I dislike,

it's actually the culture. And

we're a Rock and Roll station.

That's true. Hardcore

Rock and Roll station.

And it's actually quite

intimidating

to most Rock and Rollers because

you have to look perfect.

Your hair has to be beautiful.

I can't dance.

I can't find a white

three-piece suit

that fits me off the rack,

that hangs well.

For other people to say,

"Well, we don't like

that kind of music

and we don't like those

kinds of people."

Let people be who they are.

Us Rock and Rollers

here in Chicago

think disco sucks.

If you didn't know it was 1979,

and you somehow put the footage

in black and white,

and you looked at book

burnings...

What kind of world is this?

What is this?

Like, all of a sudden, we're

going back to the Dark Ages.

Underneath this whole thing

are the radio stations, who

designed and pulled off

Comiskey Park.

It was a radio station.

Radio stations were a very

powerful network,

and the radio station jocks

got tickets to this,

really nice limousine rides.

And we cut them off

in a lot of ways.

Detroit rockers engaged

in the abolition of disco...

We'll be right back with your...

This is your

Rock and Roll General,

so stick around!

Our phone lines are now open.

Let us know how you would like

us to destroy this record.

They were a powerful

force against us.

The record burning, the

explosions on the field.

It wasn't as anti-disco as it

was anti-people of color.

It was anti-g*y people,

it was anti-impoverished

peoples.

It promptly burgeoned

out of control,

and turned into

a full-blown riot.

This garbage of

demolishing a record

has turned into a fiasco.

Stonewall was a riot.

And here we have

ten years later,

this disco backlash

was also a riot.

And what are they rioting about?

Music?

It seems always to

be that, you know,

"You're having too much fun.

You just having too much fun.

We're fine with you

being in the closet."

What are they rioting about?

A loss of influence,

a loss of power,

and a loss of a narrative

that they had controlled

for a good long while.

Part of a larger backlash

against change.

I always thought it

was white people,

the middle class, who didn't

want the integration.

The Village was Sodom

and Gomorrah,

and anything that downtown

New York embraced,

"No, no, no, no."

Well, I... I can't take

any credit.

I've said all that it's not my

battle, it's God's battle.

I think it's easier for

folks to live in shame

because you can be

controlled in that way,

where watching black

q*eer people

unapologetically be who

they are within their skin

allows other folks to claim

theirs as well.

When we legalize,

and even normalize,

and even glamorize

h*m*,

many, many boys and girls

who don't have

the benefit of homes

that teach them right from wrong

are easily recruited,

subverted, great, great damage.

Thank God for a president

who agrees in totality

of what we morally

stand for here.

'Disco Sucks' was so all

encompassing

that we totally lost our way.

We didn't know what to do.

'Disco' was now a dirty word.

No one wanted to use it anymore.

I hate disco. It sucks, man.

Disco sucks.

We went through the disco period

along with everybody else.

I mean, Paul McCartney

made disco records,

The Stones made disco records.

It's easy, I think, for the

world out there

to slag you off and just say,

"Oh, great, it's the Bee Gees

again," you know?

Well I resent the idea of people

out there slagging us off,

and I don't want to

do an interview

that's going to be like this.

Thanks.

No, I don't, sorry.

White audiences in the suburbs

who wanted to listen

to heavy metal,

hated this music too.

MTV and the big hair bands,

you know, came about.

That became a male dominated

period in terms of Rock.

But, you know, they were wearing

this spandex that we wore.

So I was like, "Really, guys,

why do you have a problem

with me in spandex, and you

don't have a problem

with David Lee Roth," you know?

There were a lot of people

ready to jump in

and go back to something

that they were really

comfortable with,

that didn't involve g*y people

and black people.

And at that point we decided

that we were a disco band

just to be defiant.

"Hell yeah, we're disco band."

Chic couldn't get arrested, and

no one would call us back.

We were hurt. We didn't

understand how people

who once loved us, the very

next day, discarded us.

Hence, the beginning of our

drug and alcohol downfall.

So, you know, my world started

to crash because of drugs.

It ramped up faster than you

could have ever imagined.

Someone came to the

back of the booth,

1979, and said to me,

"They say disco is dead, Nicky.

What do you think?"

And I said, "Yeah."

For us, like, the whole

world changed.

We...

It's making me a little bit

emotional here.

I get a little emotional

over this

because this the start

of life for me,

this was... this was validation.

I still feel really emotional

about that period

because it was really

kind of amazing.

It was like tribal. It was

wonderful to be...

to feel part of something that

was much bigger than me.

It's still really moving to me.

Federal health officials

consider it an epidemic.

It's a disease first detected

in the g*y community, that has

now spread beyond that.

My own family

won't come to San Francisco

for this parade because they're

afraid by breathing the air

that they're going to get A*DS.

When I came down

with this disease,

I found this button.

It absolutely reflected

my position.

You know, I, I may be down,

but I'm not out.

What we lack in is all

those folks that were involved

in this music, they passed away.

So a lot of those stories,

and a lot of these really

beautiful moments

that came out of people trying

to seek refuge through this...

I wouldn't even call it disco,

really like, music.

It's a culture.

At Last I Am Free by Chic

At last I am free

I can hardly see

in front of me

I can hardly see

in front of me

So I went from

The Gallery closing

to this place called

Buttermilk Bottom,

where I played until 1981,

and...

David Rodriguez,

who was my DJ mentor,

dies of A*DS.

We were so close,

and it just blew me away.

The A*DS epidemic was so quick.

It was really sad, you know,

to see the amount

of creative people

that died in a very short

period of time.

We've lost a couple

of generations

of promising great artists.

It was like you didn't know

who was going to be next.

It took away almost

all of my friends.

And these are the people...

I really thought some

of them, I would...

I would grow up with,

or have them to talk to.

And I think about it now,

sometimes.

I think by '84, I stopped

going to bars

because people would move away.

I was DJing at Xenon,

and we had a big g*y Night

on Thursday,

and it kept getting smaller

and smaller.

There were nights I went home

screaming at God.

I had went to see him

in San Francisco

about six months

before he passed,

and I was glad that I did.

But...

He kept up a brave fight.

I decided I had to step out

of the music thing

in order to save my

own life from drugs

because everybody,

every one of my friends

thought I would be dead

in a couple of years.

I came out in 1985,

right at the beginning

of the A*DS crisis.

The communal spaces in which

disco music was played

were also havens.

There's a saying in the church,

take your burdens to the Lord.

"I take my problems

to the dance floor."

It's the same thing.

For us, it became g*y church.

It was a place where we

could engage spiritually

without being judged

for our queerness,

for our transness,

particularly...

in the moments where

I began to start feeling

put out by the church

because of my gayness,

because of my queerness.

It's been very healing for me.

So I was hanging out at

one of my favorite clubs,

Leviticus, and then I hear

the Good Times bass line.

And I'm hearing, you know, "I

said a hip hop, the hippie..."

you know, all this stuff.

And it was, it was great.

It was groovin'.

You know, as soon

as I hear the song,

I hear the bass and I go,

"There's only one guy in the

world who plays bass like that."

I said, "That's Bernard."

Rapper's Delight by

The Sugarhill g*ng

I asked the DJ to show me

a copy of the record.

He was so excited.

He said,

"Man, I just picked this up

in Harlem today."

Whoa, wait a minute.

That's a little weird.

Rapper's Delight was everywhere.

And it took what we were

doing in the streets -

little business - now became

big business,

and that became

the new bar to set.

Walking past a laundromat,

and I was just hearing these

sounds coming out,

and they were playing

like, old Planet Rock.

I just fell in love

with the music,

and started to fall in love

with the culture.

Like Rapper's Delight,

what's funny about that

is as much as I love that song,

it really, it really didn't hit

me the way it did

until I realized that it was

an old Disco record.

You know, it was

Nile Rodgers and Chic.

And I started to get

more into Disco,

even as a producer,

really when I started working

with KRS and BEP.

I believe that disco

pushed the boundaries

of what masculinity could be.

And there was a backlash that

came in the Eighties,

that shut that expansion

of gender

and performative gender down.

It shut it down.

For a little while. It just

went underground.

I mean, even going back

to the beginning of house music

in the early Eighties,

it was always like

lightning in a bottle.

I moved to Chicago so I can

have an opportunity

to try to create something

on my own.

What was it, four years

after that demolition thing,

which was in '79?

By '83, the earliest house music

was coming out

of that same city that everybody

thinks destroyed Disco.

So when Frankie says that House

was Disco's Revenge,

that's what he's talking about.

"House music is

disco's revenge."

It hits it right on the nose.

It was a little bit

more laid back,

and it always made me feel sexy.

There was always

some new musician,

new singer, new producer.

Disco was always able

to kind of revitalize itself.

Good Life by Inner City

I know you want to go

I never really paid

attention to that

"Disco was dead"

because commercially

they tried to k*ll it,

but it evolved.

Really, it went back

underground.

It just kept evolving

because the 'four on the floor, '

that's always been

the key to Disco.

They use the

'four on the floor, '

the bass drum.

But they don't use a high-hat

in a song like that.

You don't hear the...

because they think that's Disco.

They just use the...

Good life

Having this technology,

it was the next step.

It opened up the doors.

I want to make this record,

I'm going to master it,

I'm going to put it out.

And can't nobody

tell me I can't.

All these independent labels

started releasing records

and became sort

of like mini majors.

How hot is house music now?

On a scale of one to ten?

It's a twelve.

Frankie did his own thing.

Immediately, I was drawn

to house music.

I knew that this was a successor

to what I was doing

because it reminded me

of the very early club tracks

that I had played.

I would say House music

is refined Disco,

the new sound of Disco.

The Warehouse

itself inspired it,

and what I was doing

at The Warehouse

is nothing different than

what Larry was doing

in The Garage.

We were playing in clubs that

were more so our homes

than they were anything else.

Move your body

I'm directly influenced by the

work that Frankie Knuckles

and Larry Levan were doing

because they were specifically

creating spaces

for black q*eer people,

and they just amplified

what was going on.

You get to really see a person

blossom in those spaces.

Historically, as we can see

with the history of disco,

a lot of nightlife culture is

birthed from q*eer people

just trying to exist.

Where would I be? Where,

what would I be listening to

if I was not existing in

the time that I'm in?

Alright, are we ready

to get this party going?

We've come too far

To give up who we are

So let's raise the bar

And our cups to the stars

So that song, I co-wrote

with Daft Punk

and Pharrell Williams.

Get Lucky by Daft Punk ft.

Pharrell Williams, Nile Rodgers

I'm up all night to get some

She's up all night

for good fun

I'm up all night

to get lucky

Daft Punk came to my house

to possibly work together.

So I went to Electric Lady

for what would ultimately

become Get Lucky.

I told Guy-Man,

"You know, Thomas, he's

standing right exactly where

Bernard Edwards

was, was standing

when we cut our

first Chic record."

So Thomas overheard that,

and he was like,

"How did you do

Chic Records?"

We've come too far

To give up who we are

So I said, "Well, let me

hear the song."

He turned the song on.

I wrote out a chart.

I listened to what everybody

was playing.

I said, "Now do me a favor.

Turn everybody down

except for the drums,

and let me play."

And to me, that felt

like the groove.

It felt like that's the way the

song should sound.

I'm up all night

to get lucky

We're up all night

till the sun

We're up all night

to get some

Daft Punk somehow

did something amazing

at a time where nobody

was doing that.

We're up all night

to get lucky

We're up all night

to get lucky

Now, I don't have my glasses on.

I'm going to the gig.

In London.

After Pride, the stragglers

who are still partying

after a day of partying.

Hey, how are you?

Good to see you!

Good to see you!

I'm so glad you're here.

It keeps coming back.

They want to dress like it

because they're feeling it.

Like my dancers are all...

they're all in their twenties,

whatever, but they love Disco!

A very cool thing to

a whole new generation.

There's a story behind this,

and where it came from.

When I travel, over 50%

of my audience

are people under 25.

And these people know every

word to every song I play.

But it's alright

If you give them all

I know that this music

did something to people

that other music doesn't.

It not only has a great beat,

and a great funk to it that

moves your soul,

but it's got words, and meaning

that really talk to people.

I do believe that disco was the

beginning of a conversation

that we're actually deep

in the middle of now.

We're in a time right now

where all status quos

are being questioned.

Imagine a guy like me,

now I'm 70.

Imagine I'm in the Seventies,

and in the Eighties

and things are just awesome,

and people are cool,

and... Yeah, friends for life,

and they're just,

they're just great.

I thought by the year 2000,

that this planet and people

would be just highly educated,

kind to each other, really cool.

It was like man, just...

it was all falling apart.

It was like the antithesis.

Let's begin this morning with

the deadly sh**ting overnight

at a g*y nightclub in

Colorado Springs.

And then...

I don't know what happened.

You'd think that the civil

rights struggle ended.

But it didn't.

I mean, look at what

we're going through now.

It didn't end.

We put a Band-Aid on a wound

that needed stitches.

Three weeks

on from the first reports

of this virus, it has

now spread here,

and to other parts of the world.

But to what extent,

and severity,

cannot yet be predicted.

We were isolated in

our own silo spaces

for almost three years.

With a government that didn't

do anything to help.

We were just trying to get by.

We were just trying to hold

onto our mental health.

We were just trying to figure

out how to not lose our minds.

We were just trying to figure

out how to eat.

How to take care

of our families...

Club Quarantine, you know,

to me that was a chance to

actually just play music,

you know. No one was paying me,

people chose to stay with me.

I felt like this was a good time

to actually show people

who I am.

It was a moment

during quarantine

where I was trying

to feed my own soul.

I needed to feel

something spiritually,

and I connected with

this song called,

"Thinking of You,"

by Sister Sledge.

Thinking of You

by Sister Sledge

Just keep on doing what

you're doing to me

Oh, it's ecstasy

My daughter told me,

there's this DJ

who's playing Thinking of You,

and he's really loving your

song, you know?

It's funny how, like,

I listened to those records

for one reason back then,

but then later on

when I became a DJ,

I started to rediscover

these records.

We are one in here together,

we are celebrating together,

we're fighting in this together.

And I felt like, not only was

it feeding my soul,

but I was introducing

a whole new world

to one of the most beautiful

records I ever heard.

In the darkest time that we've

experienced in our lifetime,

I wanted to celebrate love,

and life, and family.

We got a hundred thousand

people in here

rocking with us right now!

This is absolutely insane!

Disco endures anyway because

it's bigger than you,

it's bigger than me,

it's bigger than any disease,

it's bigger than any backlash.

It's bigger than that.

It's classic.

It's necessary.

And now disco is having

the kind of resurgence

that is the kind of thing

that cements it

in the annals of

everything forever.

What I see is more

talent being born out of this

to continue it, because

technology will continue.

People are going to want

to dance forever.

They won't want to

go back to anything.

They're going to always

want to dance,

that's for sure.

The deep hidden

meaning of all of our songs

was about a life that

we wanted to lead.

We didn't have it yet,

but we aspired to it.

The great thing about all

the people around us,

we had a real family set-up.

Club music, dance music

brought people

together to dance.

From The Loft, to The Gallery,

to The Paradise Garage,

it became a movement.

We have a bond that

goes way deep and long

because we connected

on that dance floor,

where the emotional

charge was beyond

our wildest dreams.

Hopefully this all

means something,

and that we will all cosmically

find our way back home.

I really believe we're

on our way back home.