I love disco. It is just so hot. At work today I started listening to the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack. I dare anybody to come up with a bassline that makes the hair stand up on the back of one's neck the way "Stayin' Alive" does.
To me, these songs are perfect. Having been born in 1975, I admit, though, that there are years and layers of emotional refraction when it comes to my relationship to these songs and, well, the disco experience. My sister, less than two years older; another girl who captured the 1970s falsetto chic enviably well; and I, catapulted into teary, heaving emotional freak-out over these songs--well, Grease more than SNF. (I dare you to find a person born from 1967-1976 who isn't emotionally bonded to Grease.) My sister and I badgered our mother for endless pairs of "Cindy high heels," clear plastic disco shoes marketed to little girls with images of the movie. The musical perfection of "If I Can't Have You" boggled my three-year-old mind.
I "rediscovered" the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack in summer 1996, ashamed I'd allowed kowtowing to the indie rock snobbery bullshit to have separated me from its unbelievable pop splendor. I'm so glad I actually remember the 1970s. I'm so glad I was there. Thank god for the Bee Gees!!