The Politics of Disco and Pride
Make no mistake that the backlash against disco in the 1970s was, in part, fueled by homophobia. In part because there was legitimate criticism coming from the residents of America’s neglected cities, many of whom were African American. They felt no connection to a genre of music that was firmly rooted in the theme of celebration when there seemed to be very little to celebrate. Disco also was very much a producer’s genre and even though there were many African American performers, they were often interchangeable parts.
However, a larger element of the “Disco Sucks” crowd, who demonstrated their solidarity with their fellow disco haters by wearing T-shirts with that very slogan, was the young white heterosexual male who was threatened by the very existence of disco. Why? The existence of disco verified the existence of queer people. In fact, for a straight white male to have any knowledge of disco was to bring suspicion on himself.
This hatred of disco was fuel for album-oriented rock bands such as Cheap Trick, Boston, and Journey. The music was loud and it had to be in order to be heard in the back of the arena. This was “real rock” as far as white guys were concerned. A man’s rightful place was in that arena, dressed in jeans and T-shirt, fist raised in the air, shouting out the lyrics. Bonus points if you had a girl wearing a tube top or a halter top on your shoulders.
The discotheque and the musical genre, disco, offered a haven for queerness. When David Mancuso opened up his personal space, The Loft, on Valentine’s Day 1970, it was an offering of a safe harbor for self-expression. Other clubs soon followed, notably the Paradise Garage and the Gallery, and because no bands would play in clubs where people of the same sex gathered to openly dance with each other, disc jockeys were hired to play records. It was only when record companies came to recognize that DJs dictated record sales and could make a song that was pressed into acetate on Thursday a sought-after hit by Monday at dawn, that music was created for the disco. Prior to that, DJs strung together songs — mixes — that kept the dancers on the floor. The best DJ could could quite literally control the emotions of the crowd.
Disco’s reach extended far beyond the Manhattan clubs where it began. In Small (or Medium) Town USA, queer people of all stripes were likely to refer to themselves as “gay,” with no gender distinction. They generally frequented the same bars and clubs because options were limited. There might not have been a DJ and maybe it was a little more challenging to score some poppers to keep the party going, but there were jukeboxes and there was alcohol and there was dancing. Drop in a dime and you, too, could get lost in “Disco Inferno” or “More, More, More” even if you were miles from Manhattan.
It is something of a testament to the progress in the gay rights movement that many people have heard of the Stonewall Riots, even if they are not understood. It is recognized that the riots happened, although for many people, what exactly happened and why is a bit murkier. The least you need to know: Before the creation of the disco in the 1970s, many queer bars in bigger cities were owned by the Mafia, who operated these establishments to fill a need and not out of any sense of being an ally. Police raids were common, as were undercover sting operations in which an officer would pose as a gay patron of the bar, flirt with a real patron, and then make an arrest if their target showed an interest in a sexual encounter. The Stonewall Riots resulted from one police raid too many at the Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village on the last weekend of June in 1969.
Disco was a multi-billion dollar industry by the time Diana Ross scored a Top 10 hit in 1980 with “I’m Coming Out,” an obviously gay anthem to all but the most obtuse of pop music aficiandos of the Reagan era. It’s demise came from oversaturation, which many trace to the movie, “Saturday Night Fever,” which was not nearly a good of a movie as the soundtrack it spawned. Top 40 radio was littered with Bee Gees hits, making it a challenge for rock musicians to get any airplay. Even The Rolling Stones decided to take the “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em” approach with “Miss You” in 1978.
I tend to believe that disco jumped the shark with The Village People. Not the original Village People, which pretty much only the queer community knew about, but the second incarnation of performers who shook their hips in all manner of gay male fantasy costumes on televisions across the land. It would be hard to blame any fan of The Ramones or Iggy Pop and the Stooges or even Foreigner for thinking that The Village People were anything other than pop radio schmaltz. The second Village People made a mockery of disco and its importance and turned it into a fad. All fads come to an end and disco’s days were numbered by the time your grandma was throwing her hands in the air to “YMCA” at your cousin’s wedding in Cleveland.
None of this negates disco’s importance. The music was the embodiment of freedom of expression and the clubs were the hosts. Songs like “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor and “Don’t Leave Me this Way” by Thelma Houston took on even more importance when AIDS began its death march through the gay community in the 1980s.
Pride is an important now as it ever was. It brings the safety of the disco to the streets. It still exists out of necessity. There are stories here and here and here to prove it. The same can be said for the music. While John Travolta’s white suit and dance moves in “Saturday Night Fever” might seem passe know, understand that disco’s place in history is secure.
Learn more about the music of Pride on the podcast, “For the Record: The 70s.”
