Since everyone's talking about the Big Dance, let's look at some dancing. As always, my musical consultant Fearless Maria is in the house and she has helped me select some oddball stuff for your dancing pleasure. And Maria would like everyone to know that she has written a new post, which you can find right here. So go read it, okay? But wait until you're done with this one. We'll remind you about Maria's post later. Right, Maria?
You'd better, Dad. How about some music, okay?
Good point. As fans of this feature know, we are especially fond of go-go dancing. While we were looking for something else, we found this one, which shows some state-of-the-art go-go dancing done to one of the greatest Chuck Berry songs of all time. Check this out:
Hey Dad -- those girls swishing their hair back and forth will have a bad hairdo tomorrow. That's for sure!
Well Maria, there was a universal cure for bad hair in the 1960s. And if you don't have an ozone layer some day, you'll know whom to blame.
Meanwhile, we found this one. I'm not even sure who is singing this -- it might be a guy named Vigon, but it doesn't matter. It's a song that the Stones covered much later, but we're all about the dancing here and this is primo. I think this about 1967. Most excellent boots on this one.
As we entered the 70s, things got less free-form and more stylized. For example, this classic from the heart of darkness. It's our old pal, Van McCoy, suggesting that you "do it."
Maria, as a young lady of the new era, how do you feel about some of the, ahem, vintage fashion choices shown in that video?
If you ask me, those men and ladies are humiliating themselves and apparently don't know it. The freaky white baggy pants outfits look like bloomers from the 1800s, waaaay back! I am glad that the guys in this video were able to give their hats to the New Kids on the Block, though -- my teachers have told me that recycling is a good idea.
Good insight, Maria, although you should probably know that people in the 1970s weren't capable of feeling humiliation, for reasons that I'll explain to you when you get older. Put it this way -- there was a lot of behavior going around in those days that your teachers will warn you to avoid.
By the time we got to the 80s, disco had returned to the underground clubs from which it sprang and, truth be told, a lot of people didn't miss it very much. But there was dancing going on. It just didn't quite play out the same way. But I remember this one very well:
And if that didn't work, you could always do this:
And by the end of the decade, it started to get weirder, but at least we got Bootsy:
Any thoughts, Maria?
Weird is right, Dad! I like the last song, but what's with the weird outfits? Here's an idea: why don't you play this version of the song? Looks like a Cartoon Network dance party!
Works for me, Maria. Meanwhile, we'll stop the party here, because contemplating dancing in the 1990s is just too painful.
So pick yer poison. Any last thoughts, Maria?
This is why I take guitar lessons, Dad. That way I can play rock and avoid this stuff! And remember, you're supposed to read my new blog post, buddies!
4 comments:
Tim Geithner couldn't do any worse than y'all just did. My eyes burn! Out of a deep sense of responsibility I will cast my vote for someone. Who was the least bad? Chuck Berry go go dancers, come on down!
no way...
The Gap Band rules this round,hands down.
I'm still singing this song so many years later
"You were my pills, you were my thrills
You were my hope, baby, you were my smoke"
awesome.
Well, to celebrate that the corporate blog embargo appears to have been lifted (perhaps only for today), I'll cast my vote for Johnny B. Goode.
As for dancing in general, I have more of a Leo Sayer "I Can Dance" sentiment. And when I see "You Dropped the Bomb On Me" I can't help but think of Screamin Jay Hawkins screaming about "I Put a Spell On You".
In 1999 I actually had the chance to see the Gap Band open for Kool and the Gang. I can not hear that song by the Gap Band without singing along and dancing. This comes from someone that can not dance, and can not sing. Johnny B. Goode will always make me think of that Marty McFly Flick. That is never a bad thing. That little diddy by Dee-Lite is another guilty pleasure.
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