When I was a teenager, I was in love with Bianca Jagger. I was introduced to her by our then prime minister’s wife who had escaped Ottawa, the town that fun forgot, to go native at Studio 54. Maggie Trudeau never did anything for me but Bianca, oh Lord. Mick had moved on but Halston and friends helped Bianca make it through the long nights in the VIP lounge. At the same time, I fell in love with early crypto-trance music of Giorgio Moroder, made on a giant Moog. I Feel Love and MacArthur Park Suite are timeless. Years later, when house music came to be, I was right there at the velvet rope, ready to shake my booty and find a disco goddess like Bianca. Now in middle age, I still hold onto all the positive vibrations of house music and nights spent on the dance floor. Chicks dig a dancer. Unlike the punk rock mosh pit, the disco is a place where all are welcome to move, to groove, to canoodle, to shag. If I am ecumenical about others’ sexual orientation, it is because, as an equal opportunity dancing libertine, I can’t see how my straight fun is any different from the fun of gay gents and ladies.
And then there’s the music, still being made by some big names and the unsung geniuses of Soundcloud and such. Check out this beautiful interpretation of a rather lugubrious ditty from DJ Shadow. This must work wonders in the Castro and I doubt the dorks in Silicon Valley can resist its charms either. Fantastic for a winter’s day.
I swear I saw blue light
My feet followed it outside
And I thought I heard someone say
Fly far away
And when you reach up the sky is there