Photo by Adam Freese, licensed under Creative Commons 2.0
By Art Fredette.
Disco didn’t suck, but it was vapid!
The ‘60s came to an end with more of a whimper than a bang. The heady days of Woodstock and Haight-Ashbury had imploded with Altamont, and experimentation in music had morphed into doe-eyed singer-songwriters and overblown, self-indulgent prog. Meanwhile, under the surface, in urban areas, a new funky dance music was gaining popularity. This music would later be co-opted and turned into what became disco. A true cash cow was born. Rock and roll was under attack by formulaic beats and wispy vocals from the Diva du Jour. Deney Terrio and John Travolta were here for your children or worse, your parents.
Think about it – boomers dumped tie-dye and went out en masse to get polyester wrap-around dresses and the worst fashion curse of all time, leisure suits. Gone were moccasins and in were vinyl platforms. Hair was slicked back, and a plethora of gold chains replaced the peace symbol. Let’s boogie! and do it in the ugliest clothes possible! Hey, while the kids are at home, a couple lines wouldn’t hurt. Also, while we’re at it, let’s have our hero bands cut disco songs to cash in. Nobody wants to miss a payday. We just spent a decade crawling in the mud and worshipping the power of flowers. At least this fad is indoors, and people bathe more.
The Bee Gees, arguably one of the best vocal groups of the ‘60s, went all in. The “Saturday Night Fever” soundtrack was omnipresent. Falsetto sell-out the theme of the day. The Rolling Stones gave us almost six minutes of “Emotional Rescue.” Hey Mick, stuff that fine Arab charger up your ass. The Dead did “Shakedown Street”; hippies gotta eat too. Van Morrison – yes, even Van the Man – fell in line with ‘Wavelength.” Then, of course, the most atrocious example of them all: “I Was Made for Lovin’ You,” by KISS. Really? I knew Gene was a brand manager, and Paul was a bit of a fop, but how in any world could you do this to Ace? UGHHHH! KISS was entry-level metal for my entire generation. How does a band that did “Strutter” and “God of Thunder” betray us like that? Unforgivable! Rod Stewart …”DA YA Think I’m Sexy?” No, but you used to be great! You look like a tart. Dude, you were in the Faces!
And on the edge of it all was Bob Seger. Seger was not a newbie to the music scene. He had been around for a long time, and he believed in rock-n-roll. Listen. I know “Old Time Rock & Roll” is overplayed wedding music. Hell, I did the wedding DJ thing for over two decades; I get it. If I never hear that song again … good! Also, let’s address “Turn The Page.” All I have to say about that song is, yes, please, turn it and shut the damn book. What a whine fest. But Bob never sold out!
While everyone around him was going disco, Seger kept swinging. Was his band the best band technically? No. There weren’t any guitar gods, drum heroes, or keyboard wizards on stage – nope. These guys were a bar band, a good bar band. There were probably better players in the local scene, but that isn’t the point. The point was they cared about rock-n-roll. Check out “Live Bullet” or “Nine Tonight”; it is all there. Nothing programmed, nothing studio-sweetened. Just a band, some good songs and the desire to play. You wouldn’t hear this music on the light-up dance floor as you did your best Travolta moves draped head to toe in synthetic fiber and doused in Hai Karate cologne. This was the music for the people who still bush drank around a bonfire. The music of the guys driving trucks. The music for people who loved real drums, a well-formed lyric, guitar, bass, and rock. Bob never sold out. Songs like “Nutbush City Limits,” “Ramblin Gamblin Man,” and Hollywood Nights” are smokin’. Then there are the story songs: “Night Moves” and “Main Street” are damn good songs. He carried the torch until his contemporaries realized the error of their ways and came back home, because rock and roll never forgets. Thanks, Bob!
