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This video, which shows multiple C-3POs dancing with multiple Darth Vaders to disco versions of Star Wars theme music, is allegedly from an 80s French TV show. I’m not sure if it’s fortunate or tragic that the original trilogy didn’t take advantage of disco music’s popularity.
-via Comics Alliance
The
reports of the death of disco are greatly exagerrated. Disco, that funkadelic
music of the 70s, didn't die ... it just went silent. In a hip way, of
course.
Witness the new happenin' music scene: Silent Disco.
On a Saturday evening in June, the dance floor at Santa Monica's Central Social Aid & Pleasure Club was packed with patrons enthusiastically dancing, singing and doing call-and-response with the DJ. It's a scene that could have been unfolding on umpteen dance floors across the city, but in this case, something very different was going on.
The cool-kid crowd was moving and grooving to silence. Or so it seemed.
Actually, the revelers were taking part in a phenomenon known as "silent disco," a dance party where the booming music is both private and shared. Instead of getting their audio fix from the massive speakers found at most dance clubs, partygoers donned custom wireless headphones to tune in to a live DJ broadcast.
Rachel B. Levin lets us in on the groove in this LA Times article: Link (Photo: Adam Warzawa/EPA)
SuperSeventies has a nice index of the top ten songs of each year in the decade I discovered music. That was mostly via radio, and that decade saw quite a shift in popular styles, as you can see at the link. Each song is linked to an informative bio, with links to other information.
I was surprised to learn that John Denver’s hit “Sunshine on My Shoulders” was conceived for a made-for-TV movie.
The feature was called Sunshine, and was a character study based on a real-life journal excerpted in the Los Angeles Times. It told the story of a terminal cancer case: a nonestablishment couple and the doctor who tried to save the young woman. CBS drew high ratings when they aired the film on November 9, 1973.
The soundtrack version was re-recorded in time for Denver’s greatest hits album, and became his first number one hit. For my money, his best song will always be “Rocky Mountain High.”
What do you get when you cross Star Wars with disco and canned tuna? This ad for Hagoromo sea chicken tuna from Japan screams "crazy" in so many ways in just 30 seconds.
Too strange too miss. The Zeray Gazette has the YouTube video clip: Link | And if you like that, check out Star Wars Medley by Meco (1979). Now that’s music!
Break out the leisure suits, because French artist Michel de Broin used a crane to heft a huge mirror ball 50 meters over the Jardin du Luxembourg in Paris. It measures 7.5 meters across and is composed of a thousand mirrors. Can you dig it?
Link via Gizmodo (where there’s a video) | Artist’s Website | Photo: Michel de Broin
I’ll tell you what it equals…it equals awesome, baby! A mighty and fitting homage/tribute to the gruesome blood chilling movie The Thing using GI Joes and crazy Disco-Dance music from the Parisian band Zombie Zombie. If you don’t enjoy the music I suggest hitting the mute button though I do believe the music lends this clip a certain sense of anxiousness and suspense similar to that felt throughout the John Carpenter movie.
via BoingBoing – Link
Zombig Zombie band – Link
The following is reprinted from the May - June 2007 issue of mental_floss magazine.
PARDON OUR FRENCH What do D-Day and disco have in common, besides the letter D? Nazis, of course! During World War II, when the Third Reich occupied Paris, jazz clubs were closed and live music of a liberal nature was strictly verboten! But Parisians couldn't live without their jazz, so they took it underground, opening illicit cellars where they could drink booze freely and listen to pre-recorded music. One such club, on Rue de la Huchette, called itself La Discothèque - coined from the French words for "record" (disque) and "library" (bibliothèque). ALWAYS STARTIN' SOMETHIN' Many elements of what we now call disco music appeared in songs like The Jackson 5's 1969 smash "I Want You Back" and Isaac Hayes' 1971 hit "Theme from Shaft." (Actual movie tagline: "The mob wanted Harlem back. They got Shaft ... up to here.") Chubby Checker even released a song back in 1964 titled "At the Discotheque."
But most historians agree the first real disco record was 1972's "Soul Makossa" by the Cameroon-born sax player Manu Dibango. In the song, Dibango can be heard chanting Mama-se, mama-sa, mama-koo-sa. Sound familiar? It should. Michael Jackson used it 10 years later in his song "Wanna be Startin' Somethin'" BEE KEEPING
Oddly enough, members of the disco super-group The Bee Gees never dug their moniker. In fact, after Robert Stigwood signed on as the band's producer in 1967, the group lobbied to change its name. But what could possibly be better than The Bee Gees? The band suggested Rupert's World. Luckily, their manager nixed the notion. Years later, singer Barry Gibb remarked, "It was like changing your name from Charlie S--t to Fred S--t."
The success of "Saturday Night Fever" changed the face of disco forever. Suddenly, everyone was sporting white polyester suits - and not just Travolta wannabes. Rod Stewart, Cher, Bette Midler, The Rolling Stones, Dolly Parton, Andy Williams, David Bowie, Neil Diamond, and, yes, even Cookie Monster all donned disco-wear. (Disco Kermit via Jonathan Mc [Flickr]) HEY MISSUS DJ, PUT A RECORD ON Sometimes, bold experiments result in mundane things like polio vaccines (yawn.) But other times, they result in wild, earth-shattering breakthroughs! Case in point: 1953's birth of the DJ. That's when 24-year-old Regine Zylberberg, manager of Paris' famous Whisky a Go-Go, undertook an experiment to replace the club's jukebox with two turntables and a microphone. In no time, DJs were pumping up the jam at parties the world over, as was Zybelberg. By the 1970s, she was running 25 clubs across Europe and the Americas. In fact, you could boogie down at Regine's establishments somewhere in the world 17 out of every 24 hours - assuming you could get in. FIELD OF FLAMES
Album-oriented rock (A.O.R.) stations also fueled the anti-disco fire. On July 12, 1979, Steve Dahl, longtime DJ at Chicago's WDAI, staged Disco Demolition Night at Comiskey PArk, where the White Sox were playing a doubleheader. Fans bearing disco albums were admitted into the stadium for a mere 98 cents. Then, between games, they stormed the field to set their records ablaze. Some even detonated them with bombs. As the fires roared, the masses chanted "Disco sucks!", whipping the stadium into a chaotic frenzy so threatening, the second game of the doubleheader had to be cancelled. Fittingly, more records were broken on July 12, 1979, than on any other day in baseball history. "SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER": DISCO INFERNO OR DISCO INFURIATING?
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The article above is reprinted from Scatterbrained section of the May - June 2007 issue of mental_floss magazine. Be sure to visit mental_floss' website and blog for more fun stuff!
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"D"
IS FOR DISCO
Because
1970s discos were often frequented by African-Americans, homosexuals,
and working-class white women, the scene was perceived as a threat to
the rock 'n' roll community, which had long been a Viking ship of straight
white males. Their establishment's witty, orginal slogan - "Disco
Sucks" - became popular in the later part of the decade and was available
for purchase wherever fine rock T-shirt were sold. (Photo: Rich.lionheart
via 
