gay roots for the rock radio DJs' liking, Disco Sucks knew its language of hatred would be tolerated as the AIDS crisis began to unfold. Declaring disco a 'musical disease, Dahl embedded a sense of shame to the genre just as the world's media and politicians found a new reason to demonise the gay community. The soundtrack of the 'other' wasn't about to become the soundtrack of them.
And so, the distance between the music and its queer disco roots grew. Even the industry's attempt to repackage early '80s Hi-NRG disco for the heterosexual audience without the gay element failed in all but one sense. The genre was soon topping the pop charts and playing in every nightclub but with divas such as Evelyn King and Eartha Kitt the straight version of disco turned out to be even camper than Sylvester had ever been.
But regardless of the disconnect, one of disco's destinations was always meant to be - house music. The sound that arguably has taken over the world, created in the clubs of Chicago and Detroit, honed to perfection by those disco devotees, soul disciples and early electronica adopters and icons of the dance music scene Levan, Knuckles, Hardy, Collier. Embraced yet again by the disenfranchised disco darlings of the LGBTQ+, Black and Hispanic communities, house music united the club kids, losing it together on a dancefloor to a four-to-the-floor beat high on phwoar-to- the-core ecstasy pills. London's Trade, Brighton's Wild Fruit, Leeds' Speed Queen and Manchester's Flesh may have been some of the first queer few to fly the house flag, but it was Shoom and the Hacienda that grabbed the headlines. From Balearic to banging, house and rave became a global phenomenon, condemned by 1994's UK Criminal Justice Act whilst simultaneously being hailed a must-do destination by Turismo Eivissa. House music was teaching the world to Jack, smiley faces and all.
House wrapped the world in four-to-the-floor into the noughties, but something happened that would have made Disco Sucks campaigner Steve Dahl proud. It lost its gay roots, its soul, funk and R&B roots, the very connection to the genres it had come from. The back-to-basics ethos of sweaty darkrooms and those original circuit party HIV/AIDS charity fundraisers disappeared as the noughties saw house music become a brand, its soul remixed to the point of no return as dirty cash became all. Sure, there were some moments of creative bliss and parties whose memories will forever bring the blush, but the disco rebels who'd brought us those sequined beats were now just package-house music reps. The party brands were now seemingly just a means to a product tie in. A culture that brought us the sashaying New York vogue balls of New York had morphed into an industry producing packaged perfume tat for the high street whilst the disco, funk and soul divas we once cherished were airbrushed from the house sampled credits they deserved. [Loleatta Holloway will you ever forgive us?) As the distance between what we were and what we'd become made us dizzy, the LGBTQ+ contribution to dance music seemed a lost story destined only for afterparty moan-ins with fellow queer elders.
But then forty years on from the year I can't forget, came a connection to queer disco days long forgotten. Horse Meat Disco lifted its head up from its temple of disco devotees at The Eagle in south London, released a compilation of rare and beloved disco on Strut Records and gave us a lesson to detour for. A lesson of diversity and inclusivity and a fucking good time. Thanks to a lad called Ribs and some unicorns, the dance music community began to appreciate the importance of disco and the role the LGBTQ+ community had played in creating that thing we call house. Journalists explored stories, podcast hosts connected with creators, DJs dug in crates un-played and clubbers fell in love with the reality behind the (disco) spin. Studio 54 became a disco addict's gateway drug to some of the genre's finest moments whilst the Disco Discharge, BBE and Deep Disco Culture compilations charmed our dancing pants off.
And finally, those queer wonders who had made our own LGBTQ+ scene so influential were being hailed the legends they truly were; DJs Tallulah, Jeffery Hinton, Princess Julia, Chris McKoy, Malcolm Duffy, Steve Thomas, DJ Paulette, Tasty Tim, Smokin' Jo, Tony de Vit, Guy Williams, The Sharp Boys, Freddie Thomas, Queen Maxine, Kath McDermott, Luke Una, Sophie, Michelle Manetti, the list as endless as the memories they created for us.
'A lesson of diversity and inclusivity and a fucking good time'. |
Of course, for memories to exist and those connections to disco to continue, we'll forever need nightclubs, DJs and queer parties but with the COVID pandemic jeopardising their future and the LGBTQ+ community who call them home, I'm very aware of the triteness of declaring disco is the only connection we need this Pride Month. We need to ensure the spaces that house those glitterball spinning parties, including Horse Meat Disco, Bitch, Please!, He She They, Homoelectric, Little Gay Brother, Glitterbox, Femme Fraiche, House of Go Bang! and Downlow, can survive.
We fought off the bigots who believed disco sucks, now we need to save our communities from those who believe disco is disposable. Yes, we can tell our tale of when disco conquered the world, helped create a thing called house and turned on a beat called techno, but we must always shout loudest about the open-minded disco dancing homos, dykes, trans, non-binary folks and queers who made it so. The lessons are there, the glitterballs are waiting, the talent we have today is outstanding and the venues can be saved, we just need to keep on being there. Loud and forever proud of our contribution to dance music, proud of our disco history, proud to dance. Together.