I didn't grow up with disco. Like a lot of kids, it was one of things kept hidden from me by my parents, along with my dad's Playboys and the truth about unicorns. And just as I proudly tried to convince my kindergarten colleagues about the existence of strange, horned horses, a significant part of my life has been under the impression that music made specifically for dancing was inherently crappy. Laugh now, but there are still many who believe this. My mother, for one-- of course, she also tends to say things like, "the 70s were the worst decade ever." She grew up in a different era, with different values, but she isn't the only one. We all know people who still shudder at the mention of disco (or prog or jazz or new age or any other suspiciously, popularly maligned genre of music), and for the most part, we give them their space. After all, different strokes, right?
My mother's contempt for disco has mostly to do with the fact that it (just like the decade of the 70s in general) usurped her generation's idea of "fun," transforming her into an outsider almost overnight. Sixties kids thought that having fun meant getting together with people you loved, listening to music that meant something to everyone there and looking forward to a world where a peaceful, open-minded community would have their day. To them, disco was just another reminder that materialism and obsession with self would never really go away, that their dreams weren't necessarily the way the rest of the world thought about things (even though, ironically, polyester-donned boomers were hugely responsible for disco's mainstream success).
However, I think this is different for today's kids. We grew up hearing about how bad disco was, but because we weren't actually there to decide for ourselves, most of the wisdom is second-hand. Thus, claims like "they don't even write their own songs" or "it's fake music," which were arguably valid prejudices (misguided though they sound to me) for a generation hopeful that peace, love, and understanding were universal values, mean something slightly different for us. When I say that uber-producer Giorgio Moroder was the first person to produce an entirely digital LP, it doesn't necessarily mean that his music was "fake"-- in fact, if anything, in light of most of what we listen to, it's a feather in his cap. Today's "rockists" (which is really just a fancy distinction for people who hold onto any particular set of values re: music at the expense of everything else) don't generally bring up truly interesting dichotomies of community versus self or majority versus minority. To them, music has a more abstract relationship to identity, one obscured by inherited judgments and not as easily penetrated.
Moroder is an interesting case because he sidesteps most "disco sucks" arguments due to the fact that he did write his own stuff, did produce it, and even went to so far as to design much of his studio. Like Kraftwerk, he had long been interested in the possibilities of electronic music in pop, and with partner Pete Bellotte, used his background in pop songwriting and arranging to forge one of the most successful production partnerships of the 70s. At their Musicland studios in Munich, Germany, the pair made their greatest claim to fame making records for Donna Summer, though Moroder also worked with Sparks, Blondie, and Japan, among dozens of others. His method, though behind-the-scenes as were most of the great disco producers, was hardly "fake" or dismissive of the history of recorded pop up until then; rather, like ABBA, Lee Perry, or the aforementioned Kraftwerk, he used available technology and his own ingenuity to make music as suited to its era (and beyond) as any artist could.
From Here to Eternity was Moroder's third solo LP (after 1972's underrated, if redundantly titled Son of My Father, and 1976's Knights in White Satin), and is a marvel for disco historians, and a perfect nugget of dance music for anyone else. Its opening sidelong mix predates house by almost a decade, yet would (and did) fit perfectly in the set of DJ aiming to keep people happy via Euro-centric electro beats and angelic vocoder-ized choruses. And that's the trick: there really aren't any choruses (or verses for that matter) on the first side of this record, it's a constantly evolving, perpetually changing suite of music-- which begs the question, "is this pop?" Maybe not. Or, maybe it's just one of the first visions of what pop would become for a generation of listeners who didn't necessarily need messages or refrains or catchy hooks to have fun.
Of course, given that the album opens with such a lengthy mix of music, you're better off diving in with the intention of getting lost for a while. The title track and its reprise mix now-classic Euro-house 4/4 pump (via digital kick-drum, I might add) with Moroder's distinctive, double-tracked tenor and a backing chorus of disembodied sopranos. Disembodiment was probably one of the reasons disco was supposed to suck for my parents, yet in the context of a decade when the boundless optimism and idealism of the 60s seemed suddenly, woefully inadequate, it-- along with punk's related undercurrent of disillusion-- was perfect. It was more than perfect; it was danceable! "Faster than the Speed of Love" brings the mood down from the opening track, segueing into the minimalist, ominous "Los Angeles", using a simple synth motif and striking harmony vocals to impart its momentum. "Utopia-- Me Giorgio" is more lush, with a percolating bass line and long, wistful backing vocals.
The second half of From Here to Eternity loses some of the charge, if only due to its comparatively conventional, disconnected structure. Still, the dark vocoder intro and rising intensity of soprano harmonies during the chorus of "I'm Left, You're Right, She's Gone" is a interestingly compact specimen of Moroder's way with a pop song, and only suffers when you compare it to his work with Summer from the same period. I don't believe there's much point in doing that though, and if the "disco sucks" brigade taught me anything, it's that using pre-formed biases and ideals to judge this music usually misses the point. Different strokes and our own ideals, right? Sounds good to me.
