By Rich Lindbloom
When I was working as a foreman back in the 70’s a worker named Gus came up to me and said, “Rich, the Stones gone disco.” I had no idea what he was talking about and had him repeat what he was saying about three times. Finally I said “Gus, there is no way on God’s green earth the Stones would play a disco song. None, zippo.” Sure enough, a few days later the song “Miss You,” had flooded the air waves. Not exactly “Gimme Shelter, but actually the song was pretty catchy. It had a groove that had the potential to make a crackah think he could dance.
Out of all the genre’s of music that have emerged over the decades, Disco had to be my least favorite. It was a time of leisure suits, chest hair, ostentatious medallions, big hair, The Bee Gee’s and John Travolta. I recall talking about disco one day with my boss who would spin records on the side. This guy would scour garage sales for old Jazz albums and I really respected his musical taste. When I began mocking the Village People, in particular the song YMCA, he said something that I’ll never forget.