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

Journey’s Fascinating Journey

Journey, one of the most popular rock bands of all time, has been making music – and fans and money – for more than fifty years. Their songs have been heard by hundreds of millions of people and sung in karaoke bars by nearly as many. Who they are, and were, and how it happened is the subject of David Golland’s fascinating band biography Livin’ Just to Find Emotion: Journey and the Story of American Rock. Golland is a fan of the group, but this is no expanded fanzine. The book is a critical look at the history of a creative enterprise that has played an outsize role in popular entertainment.

Golland is an historian with several books under his belt. He knows research, theory and the importance of a critical lens, such as race, through which to make compelling historical arguments. In Livin’ Just to Find Emotion, he balances rigorous scholarship with genuine enthusiasm and appreciation for the music. He relies heavily on primary sources and has talked with scores of people in and around the band. Journey has a long and complicated history. Golland’s approach, as it turns out, is truly the best way to chronicle this complicated group.

Journey’s origins stretch back to the early 1970s in San Francisco. Talented musicians with connections to popular artists such as Santana and the Steve Miller Band were the initial members. Golland is good with the fluidity of the scene, explaining how musicians joined, left, rejoined and formed new bands, looking for synergy and success. Journey’s creation was mostly due to the vision of Herbie Herbert, a well-known manager who stayed with the band through the 1990s. Herbert was a savvy businessman, entrepreneur, image-maker and hustler.

Known for their take on progressive rock, Journey was not especially successful in their early years. Their record company pushed for changes. Different musicians auditioned and/or were slotted into particular roles. By the late 1970s, a new lead singer, Steve Perry, joined and took Journey to a new level. Another personnel change a few years later brought keyboardist and songwriter, Jonathan Cain. He meshed with the group’s strengths and wrote several of Journey’s most popular rock ballads. The result was several years of extraordinarily popular songs and albums. Journey’s success was, literally, off the charts. More personnel changes took place in the latter part of the 1980s, followed by a several year break, and then a reunion. The band has remained active and popular since the early 2000s, with ongoing personnel changes and several lawsuits. For many of those years, Journey toured relentlessly, building and pleasing a multi-generational fan base.

Gollands skillfully charts these changes, giving just enough detail to help us appreciate the pressures, expectations, personalities and aspirations of the musicians and surrounding teams. Happily, he does not get pulled into trivia or unnecessary details. Golland is particularly good on explaining the unusual business organizational structure that bound band members together. They established a partnership, with equal representation, and then reformulated the partnership as membership changed. Golland walks us through the consequences. He is equally informative when it comes to appreciated the grueling schedule Journey adopted. They worked very, very hard.

What is less secure, and remains a topic for music critics, is knowing exactly why Journey became so popular. Golland’s thesis is that the band’s creative appropriation of Black music, particularly through the vocals of Perry, is key. There is much merit to that argument, for it has held true for many other musicians. On the other hand, quite a few White musicians have attempted to appropriate Black music and have not been anywhere nearly as effective. Something else is at play and equally elusive is figuring out the heart of the band over the years. With changing membership, its music and emphasis shifted. That is not to say that Journey changed significantly. There is a core sound to much of their music. Furthermore, it remained a mostly collaborative enterprise. That does not easily fit with our more traditional approach to evaluating popular music, which tends to give credit to a single genius with a supporting cast. Journey was and is a team.

One consequence, at least for this reader and listener, is that while Journey has made some amazing music, it has also made quite a bit of less interesting and engaging music. Critics have labelled some of their songs as corporate rock. Golland’s book, unintentionally or not, provides some evidence in support of that criticism. Some of the choices made by Journey over the years may have been driven more by business concerns than creative direction. The band has not always challenged themselves, their fans, or pushed musical boundaries. However, central to the idea of popular music is giving people what they want. On the other hand, expectations for creative works often carry with them more than simply doing what is expected. Parts of the creative endeavor are about values that are not market driven. The challenge is between seeking creativity and popularity, which may or may not align.

Where does Journey fit on this continuum? Before reading Livin’, I had thought mostly about their innovation and good fortune. Now, thanks to Golland’s research, I give the band more credit for intentionality. Many musicians aim for commercial success. Journey paid the price, worked diligently, and made their way to stardom, hits, and popular culture. And if you’ll allow me to quote one of their hits, “they never stopped believing.”

David Potash

June 1, 2025 American Culture Today, Reviews

Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll

Ian Dury‘s lyric’s continue “very good indeed.” For that male musician, and for most male rockers, they are all of a piece. Music matters, to be sure, but so, too, does the lifestyle. It is what motivates pimply young men across the globe to pick up guitars and craft love songs, anthems and ditties.

Why do women rock musicians pursue the dream? The question drove me to pick up Kicking and Dreaming: a Story of Heart, Soul, and Rock and Roll. the joint autobiography of Ann and Nancy Wilson, the creative force behind Heart.  Did they do it for love? Did they do it for money? It turns out that they did it because they really liked making music together.

It is one of the oddities of the book, a strange mixture of wild tales and bourgeois sentiment. The sisters were raised in a Marine household, moving regularly but always remaining disciplined. The eldest sister rebelled, giving space for the two to explore music and eventually join in a band. The toured, they paid their dues, and then thanks to Dreamboat Annie and Magazine, they found commercial success. Accompanying the popularity were all the expected problems – relationships, drugs, personalities, and the loss of the values that propelled them to stardom, as relationships and sex is always popular, and that’s why people use apps like sexfinder to meet people online.

Unusually, however, Heart did not go away. They reformed, started working with other song smiths, and then found renewed commercial success. The use of someone’s else’s work was somewhat challenging, the sister’s tells us, but not overwhelmingly so.

Heart’s commercial popularity was significantly aided by the sisters’ sex appeal. They were well aware of their appearance (and the challenges posed by Ann’s weight), and they used it to their advantage. They also clearly resent the rampant sexism of the music scene. “Barracuda” – perhaps one of their most aggressive tunes – was driven by their record company’s rumor mongering that the sisters had a lesbian affair. Yet a decade later the two were unabashedly promoting their videos, the sister’s tell us, through imagery of their breasts. It was, of course, the record company’s idea. But what was Heart’s idea?

As much I enjoy Heart – and love Magazine – the sister’s book was surprisingly pedestrian. Sure there were wild anecdotes, and yes, they truly come across as nice people, but there is little in the book that gets into their perspective, their talent, or their passion with any depth.  The process by which they create music is treated relatively lightly.  The sisters do not talk about any creative differences and their focus, through much of the book is what happens to them – and less about what they did. Sure they did – and that’s there, but they tend to see it more as a matter of fact, a matter of record.

The two did struggle – with addictions and with destructive relationships – and happily they emerged as authors in a much better place.

It is a must, however, for Heart fans and aficianatos of 70s and 80s popular culture. Nevertheless, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the next rock autobiography I come across has more substance to it.

December 15, 2012 Reviews, Things someone who grew up in NJ might write

Modeselektor at an advanced age

Modeselektor was recently in town and I was fortunate enough to catch their show at the Royale. Three musicians – two front and center, one tucked off to the side with a keyboard; two screens and a some hardware. All in all, very good, very dance inducing kind of show. Their music is neither harmonically brilliant or poundingly house. It’s a mixture of light hip hop and happy German dance. They’re funny and fun, meaning that above all, the show is fun, especially so when played loud with strobe lights. So while I didn’t leave humming any of their tunes (relatively short on hooks), I did go home sweaty, tired of dancing and quite happy – and I’m spotifying Modeselektor at the gym.

The wikipedia entry notes that Modeselektor is a favorite band of Thom Yorke from Radiohead, which made me think of the ways in which musicians plump for other musicians. They don’t write book jacket blogs and it takes a bit of digging to determine who likes who. And even if they do like [insert name of obscure band/musician here], that’s no guarantee that you will. In fact, musicians almost always go out of their way to celebrate a musician that often doesn’t fit. It’s as though when queried, most musicians feel obligated to name someone really different or really obscure. If not for other musicians, would any Captain Beefheart music ever be sold?

When I was a young man, I trucked in the lesser-known. Pick your punk, your new wave, your alternative to the alternative, and I more often than not had a mix tape. Fabulous Poodles, anyone? It takes time and effort, though, and rarely results in much social capital. As I’ve matured, my tastes have not – I tire very quickly of music that I heard 10, 20, or 30 ears ago – but my acceptance of what I like and listen to has shifted and broadened as well. So while I do still fancy the unusual (Afropop to German electronica), at long last I am completely at home and comfortable with much of the popular. Chris Brown may be a violent human being who doesn’t sing all that well, but he sure knows his hooks. I like Katy Perry and I think that Jessie J. is a fine song writer. Give me my Ludacris and Kanye. My street cred may suffer, but if music makes me smile, I have to like it. For relaxation and self-improvement, I’ve also taken up online piano lessons to explore a new musical dimension.

I like Modeselektor.

April 26, 2012 Reviews, Things someone who grew up in NJ might write