It Was Special! I Was There!

We are hard wired, the experts say, to prefer the music of our teens – regardless of its quality. My bias, accordingly, is for the late 1970s and early 1980s. But not all music from the period. I like new wave, ska, hip hop and rap, rock and dance music – the things that you might find in on an alternative radio station. It seemed to me at that time – and it does now – that it was an unusually vibrant period of musical experimentation. There was just a going on, especially if you stayed away from the “I hate disco” vs. “Rock” debates. Boundaries were blurred and labels did not matter. While I do not think of myself as especially nostalgic, I still believe it to be very exciting period for music and culture.

My assessment is not unique. While more than a few have agreed with me it the years, it was particularly gratifying to read Tim Lawrence’s Life and Death on the New York Dance Floor, 1980 – 1983 as scholarly confirmation. It was a special time and Lawrence does outstanding work tracking the hundreds of artists, the scores of nightclubs, and the rebirth of Gotham as a creative force in nightlife. This is a time of inexpensive real estate, shifting tastes, resistance to President Reagan, and a rejection of high status disco (Studio 54). What transpired – in a period before AIDS, before high rents, a raised drinking age and ATMs east of lower Broadway in Manhattan – was a flourishing of music and dance.

Tim Lawrence has written three books about music and dance. He’s a DJ, podcaster, producer, party-thrower, and professor of Cultural Studies at the University of East London. Not only does he know the music, he appreciates and values the music and the scene around it. Lawrence not a critic, keen on squeezing the life out of track or artist to make a point about theory. One of the lovely features of Life and Death on the Dance Floor are the song recommendations/references from key djs at their clubs. Many of them were deep in the crate of vinyl, too. This was, after all, before CDs. Lawrence clearly spent hundreds of hours interviewing to make the book possible.

The Mudd Club anchors the start of the book, as Lawrence’s prose is organized chronologically and roughly by nightclub. He tends to give more attention to disc jockeys than to musicians and groups, which makes for an unusual focus. It fits, though, with his overarching message of blurring and dynamism. The true superstar DJs would surprise crowds, creating memorable soundscapes. Lawrence is also good on the crossover between music and other arts. Warhol and Basquiat, for example, were often in the clubs. The story is very Manhattan-centric.

There’s a journalistic feel to the book. Chapters are brief and the structure is who, what, where, when and why. Record companies, real estate and politics are present but not fully accounted for; they lurk, appearing in some acts but not others. Missing from the work is a sustained long argument. Lawrence advances shorter arguments, and explores conflicts and resolutions, but there is no big cultural studies claim about the New York club scene in the first years of the Reagan presidency. Not that one could not mount such an argument . . . .

Lawrence’s approach is appropriate for the scope of the book, for the scene could only flower for a short period. Rising rents, changes in local laws, economic development and AIDS had a tremendous impact. It took place in a time of transition. People still went out to dance in the mid-80s, as they do today, but so many things changed.

As for the music, artists include Afrika Bambaataa, Art of Noise, Beastie Boys, B-52s (who were quite the presence in lower Manhattan), Black Uhuru, Blancmange, Blondie, Kurtis Blow, David Bowie, Bow Wow Wow, Laura Branigan, Bush Tetras, The Clash, The Contortions, Cristina, Culture Club, Devo, D Train, Ian Dury, Brian Eno, Marvin Gay, Grandmaster Flash (with and without the Furious Five), Eddy Grant, Gwen Guthrie, Herbie Hancock, Billie Idol, Rick James, James White and the Blacks, Grace Jones, Kid Creole and Coconuts, Kraftwerk, Cyndi Lauper, Liquid Liquid, Lydia Lunch, Madonna, Malcolm McLaren, Medium Medium, New Order, Klaus Nomi, Yoko Ono, Richard Hell and Voidoids, Run-D.M.C., The Smiths, Spandau Ballet, Sugarhill Gang, Talking Heads, Thompson Twins, Tom Tom Club, Was (Not Was), Jaw Wobble, and Yaz/Yazoo. There are others as well.

Life and Death on the Dance Floor is an excellent book for those looking to learn more about a particular scene in a particular period in New York City. If you knew nothing or very little, I cannot imagine a better guide. I wonder, though, about what those who were on the dance floor would think of the book. I was. Growing up in northern New Jersey, my first New York City club experience was in the late 1970s. By the early 1980s, every chance I could get I was in lower Manhattan, looking for bands and music and opportunities to dance. The talent, the diversity, the possibilities were extraordinary, inexpensive, and in constant flux. Most of all, it was great fun.

David Potash

October 27, 2025 Things someone who grew up in NJ might write

Alligator Pears Never Had a Chance

One of the best bowls of guacamole I ever ate was prepared in Texas by a fifth generation German whose family settled in the hills country around Austin in the mid-1800s. He told me that his family had loved Mexican food forever, explaining that Texas culture was a wonderful mash-up of different heritages. It was a tasty reminder of how much of what we consume and enjoy has a fascinating history.

Towards that end, if you only read one book about avocados, please reach for Green Gold: The Avacado’s Remarkable Journey from Humble Superfood to Taste of a Nation. Sound silly, I know – but hear me out: the story of avocados is extraordinarily interesting, surprisingly complicated and it comes with lessons, too. Written by Sarah Allaback, an architectural historian and Monique F. Parsons, a journalist and avocado farmer, Green Gold mixes agriculture, botany, business, economics, global exploration, history; international trade, personalities and recipes most effectively. The authors, who have been friends since childhood, seem to have had fun researching and writing the book. A genuine enthusiasm for the subject is threaded throughout.

Avocados are the fruit from an evergreen tree that grows in warmer climes. Known as the “alligator pear” in the English-speaking world until the early 1900s, the aguacate (in Spanish) was a key component in the diets of Central and South American people for centuries. It was “discovered” as a potential crop for white Americans in the late 1800s. A fascinating cast of characters grew, modified, and promoted avocados. Foremost among them and a hero to the authors was Wilson Popenoe, a USDA employee and inveterate avocado champion. Through his work and others, strains of avocados were developed, promoted and organized through a growing group of associations and partnerships. There were genuine avocado influencers and scientists across the globe.

Avocados are a complicated plant and it took many efforts (and quite a bit of science) for growers and agricultural scientists to develop strains that withstood cold weather (a problem for US growers), remain shelf-stable (an issue for wider distribution), and would yield consistently tasty fruits (an issue to everyone who likes eating them). Expanding the use and popularity of avocados was also about education, experimentation, and widening palates. The American food market needed to learn what to do with the fruit. It took decades up decades of marketing and outreach to get the public even to accept and use the term avocado. Many generations thought of it as an alligator pear. Add to that the distrust of “foreign” foods, something that has been an ongoing concern for centuries, and the challenges facing avocado growers in Florida and California are formidable. Avocados were not an overnight success. Expansion was slow through much of the twentieth century.

It was not all marketing campaigns and publicity. Allaback and Parsons’ work demonstrates that great generosity and collaboration shaped the avocado industry. Central American growers shared cuttings from their trees. People traded information and assistance, helping to advance the fruit’s popularity. Celebratory meals and mutual gratitude stand out as highlights in the book. The popularity of avocados was a collaborative effort.

A significant portion of Green Gold looks at the latter part of the 1800s and early 1900s, a dynamic period in terms of international agricultural exploration and promotion. The world became smaller and better known. However, in 1914, as relations between the US and Mexico worsened, a seed weevil threat became the basis for an American ban of Mexican avocados. Bans had happened before, but this ruling hardened into decades of exclusion. Mexican growers had to find alternative markets and the US avocado industry profited. The ubiquitous Haas avocado was developed and promoted. It is a type that does well in American climes. The book tells the story of the Haas family and their tree whose cutting changed growing patterns and expectations. Individual trees, in fact, are very important to the development of particular avocado strains.

The United States lifted the ban of Mexican avocados in 1997. Mexico, unsurprisingly during the latter half of the 1900s, had been supporting a growing avocado industry. The change upended the avocado market. From the early part of the twenty-first century, the popularity of avocados exploded. It is now a $20+ billion dollar market in the US and the world has a taste for avocado toast and guacamole. The US is a major importer and the domestic avocado industry has peaked. Avocados are grown around the world, in Central and South America, Asia, Africa and Australia.

Consider reading Green Gold. It will change how you look at the produce section in the grocery store, and give you a little frisson of knowing when you enjoy guacamole or an avocado toast.

David Potash

October 5, 2025 Curiouser and Curiouser