Disco and Young
DISCO drove me crazy as a teenager. I couldn’t escape the music and culture--it was pervasive, it was everywhere, it was like McDonald’s (“Get down, get funky: Disco gets its due,” by Scott Martelle, Nov. 26). Plus, it was gaudy. Put it this way: We thought the whole thing was just gross.
The awful, repetitive slickness of disco music did actually motivate me, though, and for that I will be ever grateful. In the middle of 1977, in desperate search for something real, I impulsively purchased Neil Young’s raggedy “American Stars ‘n Bars” album. Now there’s an “anti-disco” album if there ever was one--full of sad tales, lumbering rhythms and cranky guitars.
And for all of this, disco gets a museum exhibit and “American Stars ‘n Bars” is not even available on CD. There ya go.
Paul Gase
Torrance
Sign up for The Wild
We’ll help you find the best places to hike, bike and run, as well as the perfect silent spots for meditation and yoga.
You may occasionally receive promotional content from the Los Angeles Times.
