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

The New World: Gotham ’45

Manhattan ’45 is a history filled with love and nostalgia. Written in 1987 by Jan Morris, the book is an impressionistic look at New York City and the island just as World War II ended. Morris begins with the arrival of the SS Queen Mary in June of 1945, carrying nearly 15,000 servicemen and women. Morris ends with a backwards summary, stressing a deep and long-lasting affection for Gotham.

For those of us enamored of New York City, how can we not be attracted to this kind of history?

The end of the war brought tremendous optimism to the world and New York City. The horrors of WWII were ending and not yet fully processed, and to a certain degree a new age of internationalism was still a few years away. Morris paints the city in transition, shaking off an earlier mindset and beginning to think about embracing modernity – whatever that might mean. The chapters are structural, not chronological. On Style looks at manner, moralities, sights and sounds. On System describes government, leadership, the powerful and the structures of order. On Race takes in the key ethnic groups of the city: Blacks, Italians, Chinese and Jews. Celebrities, the wealthy and the less fortunate are recounted in On Class. On Movement describes the subways, busses, ferries and roads, and On Pleasure is about eating, dancing, music and performance. Last is On Purpose, which looks at business and economics.

Morris does outstanding work setting a mood through observation, anecdote and fact. Things that one might find in a history book are complemented with non-academic adjectives and tone. From trivia to important matters, the book is like a Circle Line tour of the island. Morris – whose history is worthy of a biography – wrote travel books as well as history. In Manhattan ’45 the reader is something akin to a time traveler, making sense of the center of the world at moment filled with romance and optimism.

Impressionistic and stylish, Manhattan ’45 intrigued me and made me want to wear a hat, dance at a nightclub, and enjoy the city. Thank you, Jan Morris, for a most unusual work.

David Potash

June 15, 2025 Things someone who grew up in NJ might write

Keep Trying To Make Sense – Gotham Version

New York City, Gotham, a space of opportunity or threat? Or perhaps both?

Brian Tochterman is an associate professor of sustainable community development at Northland College and the author of The Dying City: Postwar New York and the Ideology of Fear. The book is a reworking of his University of Minnesota history dissertation, but it’s not traditional history. This is cultural and intellectual history, with little economics, demographics, political studies – and few “great men.” Tochterman, who is from the midwest, has a provocative perspective on New York City in the latter part of the twentieth century.

The Dying City spans from the end of World War II until the early 1980s. Tochterman posits two discourses about the city: cosmopolis, as exemplified by the optimism of a young E.B. White, and necropolis, as defined by Mickey Spillane. These visions and narratives competed as ways to best understand and define a rapidly changing New York City. White presented the city as open, young, growing and inclusive; Spillane represented the city as dangerous, a frontier with little order calling out for violence and strong men. From these two constructs, Tochterman spins a web of voices, actions, debates and decisions to explain the Big Apple.

The book draws from literature, film, popular culture, criticism, music and media. It’s not comprehensive. Instead, Tochterman’s methodology is more opportunitistic and impressionistic. He crafts arguments of contrast: White and Spillane, Robert Moses and Jane Jacobs, growth versus destruction. Running throughout the narrative is a heightened appreciation of how narratives of fear framed debates, decisions and cultural production. The books makes one appreciate just how pervasive fear is as a justification, a motivator, and as a means of control.

One of the challenges of cultural history is inclusivity. Most people do not get published, do not produce “culture” and their voices and influence may not be recognized. I think that the issue especially difficult in framing what happens in the city, where interactions between people and groups of people spark all manner of creativity. New York City has been a tremendous engine for cultural production. Tochterman’s construct tends to focus on the work made by white and educated professionals. There’s nothing wrong with that focus, but is it the most representative? He could have done something similar but given priority to the origin and growth of hip hop and rap, for example. Who matters more: E. B. White or Grandmaster Flash? There are no easy answers – just different framings.

One could claim, using a more traditional history lens, that there are more “accurate” ways of understanding the sweeping changes New York City faced after World War II. One could pay close attention to demographics, to changes in the economy, to broad political trends, and the general shift of influence to the west and the south. However, that is a different kind of book. Tochterman has crafted something thoughtful in The Dying City. It’s creative and well done. And while it may be a bit too dissertation-like for some, I found it very interesting.

David Potash

April 18, 2019 American Culture Today, Reviews

Voyeur Ethnography: Everyone Wants Something

In 1978, while Keith Richards was embroiled in legal troubles, Mick Jagger was living in New York City and working on Some Girls, a superb Rolling Stones album. In the album’s last song, Shattered, Jagger sings of Gotham:

Pride and joy and greed and sex
That’s what makes that town the best
Pride and joy and dirty dreams
Are still surviving on the street

The Stones captured something essential about NYC in the rough 1970s in about three minutes. Much has changed over 35 years, but much has remained the same. It would have been helpful if Sudhir Venkatesh, rogue sociologist from Columbia University, knew this when penning his exploration of the underside of NYC, Floating City. It is a deeply frustrating book, made doubly irritating because hidden away, amid a self-referential narrative, are valuable observations about an important topic. It should be more substantive.

Venkatesh made his academic and literary name with Gang Leader For A Day. That is a compelling study of the South Chicago drug economy made possible through the sociologist’s friendship with a gang leader. Through charm, persistence and a non-judgmental profile, Venkatesh earned a place of privilege in a violent urban subculture. His vantage point provided more than enough material for a provocative book.

Floating CityNow in New York City and with a professorship at Columbia University, Venkatesh tries the same approach in Floating City. Problems quickly multiply. New York City’s off the books economy is very complex. He is unable to define his research or the project. He befriends a drug dealer and prostitutes, but friendship does not necessarily translate into ethnography. His academic peers describe his work as journalism. Venkatesh may embraces a “rogue” title but his confidence rings hollow. His marriage dissolves. His subjects are beaten and arrested. They are all in distress. New York City is not afloat – Venkatesh is.

If we bypass the prurient in Floating City – and Venkatesh’s fascination with prostitution and prostitutes borders on the obsessive and exploitative – and the author’s all too frequent discussions about himself – what remains are some interesting stories of how legal and illegal blur. What makes for cultural capital in a constantly shifting city? It is well-trod ground and reminded me of one of my favorite neglected books about Gotham.

In 1850, a reporter for the New York Tribune, George G. Foster, wrote New York by Gas-Light and Other Urban Sketches: With Here and There a Streak of Sunshine. He describes prostitution, drinking, gambling and the evening economy and lifestyle in a rapidly changing city. Foster focuses on more than explaining and exploring. He draws attention to the hypocrisy of respected political and civic leaders who criticize the underground culture while enjoying and profiting from it. Foster identifies with those that work at night. It is a strange book that captures a city becoming modern.

The dynamic interdependence of legitimate and illegitimate is extremely interesting. Patient readers can glimpse it in Floating City. More than the interplay of legal and illegal, it is the interplay of competing economies and cultures. An area of tremendous vitality, that interplay leads to Bronx hip hop becoming a global phenomenon, or Brooklyn street fashion travels European runways. Grasp it and you have a sense of what makes New York City such a special place.

David Potash

July 14, 2015 American Culture Today, Reviews

Gotham Locavores Rejoice

Robin Shulman’s Eat the City is a cheerful account of the idiosyncratic passions that allow for the making of food in New York City. Lightly mixing history with contemporary interviews, Shulman makes it clear that the city has always been a place where some make, find, grow or catch their food. Further, while many of us no longer thing of New York City as no longer playing that role, it is.

Broken into chapters by food group – bees and honey, meat, wine, sugar, vegetables, fish and beer – the books nimbly covers the geography and history of the city. Shulman is more interested in people and tastes than production or society. Restaurants rarely rate a mention and it is mighty difficult to find a recipe in the pages. It is difficult to tell is Shulman is motivated by curiosity or a deeper love of food. I would have wished for the latter, even at a price of her professionalism. Her subjects all display a singular passion for their pursuits, be they ale or smoked pig from a Queens farm.

The book’s structure reflects the long shadows of John McPhee, for narrative description, and Michael Pollan, for argumentation and structure. But this is no polemic. Shulman’s text is grounded in close observation. A practicing journalist who has spent extensive time overseas, Shulman has an eye for detail. Implicit in the work is an ideological agenda, however, these people are doing something important and interesting. But that raises questions. Are the locavores merely characters? Hipsters?  Or do they represent something larger or something more important?  I would argue that they do, but Shulman shies away from bigger arguments. She could have – but reading this one has the sense that she never really settled down with a clear of idea of what she wanted the book to say.

It is, however, a tasty read – particularly the chapters on bees and meat. And a welcome addition to the study of the world’s most interesting city.

October 29, 2012 American Culture Today, Things someone who grew up in NJ might write