The thing about Disco is that it is fun music. It never took itself too seriously. I appreciate it more and more as I get older. Unlike so much highly polished music that came after it, it doesn’t lack for a soul. There is a profound difference between the flashy indifference of a performance of “I Dreamed a Dream” and the flashy silliness of “Disco Inferno.”
So this morning, we listen to Commodores doing “Brick House” off their self-titled album. There is a very funny — and dare I say feminist — video and remix of the song from the 1990s. It’s worth checking out. But I present the band here live (but I think they’re not really playing), in all their 1970s silliness. It’s mighty mighty:
Great song! But it’s ruined for me. I lived once in a roach-ridden week-by-week rental house, and one of the mentally ill people there played “Brick House” on his stereo constantly. (Along with “When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Get Going,” a far inferior tune.)
Aside from the roaches (they’d drop on your head while you were showering), the repetitive music, and the crazy lady who called the FBI on everyone for being “terrorists” all the time, there were some nice people there. Week-by-week rentals are for anyone who can’t get an apartment, for whatever reason, and many of them were really terrific. I had a bicycle, a dress suit, and a good pair of shoes given to me in the six weeks I lived there. But sharing a kitchen and bathroom sucks. I can’t say the Commodores suck, and I suppose giant attack roaches are just trying to live.
Yes, they are just just trying to live. But now I feel like roaches are crawling on me! I’m sorry for bringing back bad memories, but you have certainly paid me back! ;-)