Showing the '70s some love

And Party Every Day: The Inside Story of Casablanca Records by Larry Harris
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I enjoyed this book far more than I probably should have. While it's not perfectly written, it is very entertaining, especially for me, someone who remembers well the rise and fall of Casablanca Records, the Kiss era, Donna Summer, disco, Parliament/Funkadelic, and everything else that Neil Bogart, Larry Harris, et al., begat and bequeathed.

Not all of it was good, but when it was good, it was great, as much for the music as for the fantasy, glamour, and excess it created.

The focus in this book is perhaps more on Kiss than on the others. As more of a disco dolly, I would have preferred more about Donna Summer and Giorgio Moroder. Nonetheless, Harris does a good job of conveying some of what was going on with them and their music at the time. He also touches upon the rise of gay culture in the disco era, not shying away from it, although again, I was left wanting more.

That's not really a criticism. I'm just greedy.

While not a Kiss fan and knowing only a little about George Clinton and Parliament, I was nonetheless enthralled to read about their personalities, work, and vision, and how Casablanca hustled to unleash them on a receptive, if unsuspecting, public.

I was a teenager during this era, a time in my mind's eye, when America was still on the move, when the angst and anger of the late '60s had somewhat subsided and the conservatism and consumerism of the '80s had not taken over. So there's a special place in my heart for the people, places, and events described within. People often say the '70s were about nothing, but I think they were about a number of things: harmony, unity, diversity, fun, working out our past social kinks and moving on to a better, more liberated culture. An idealized take on the decade? Perhaps, but I'd match it any day to the accomplishments of the '80s.

Having said that, from some of the events described in these pages, I'm not sure I would have survived if I'd been on that '70s scene. In fact, many didn't. Drugs, decadence, and disease took their toll.

Thus it's great to have Harris's stories about Paul Jabara, Marc Paul Simon, Jacques Morali, Henri Belolo, Casablanca FilmWorks, Donna Summer, George Clinton, the four Kiss solo albums, radio promotion, marketing music, and all the rest. It's a terrific chronicle of a lost time and place and a loving but honest look at the genius and the folly that was Neil Bogart.

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Into the groove

Some over-the-weekend record-shopping with my friend The Music Lover at Jerry's Records in Squirrel Hill resulted in this inexpensive discofied and soul-fired gems.

1. A special edition Donna Summer 12-inch disco single featuring the full-length version of "Love to Love You Baby" on side A and "Try Me I Know We Can Make It" on side B.

I vaguely remember seeing this years ago when I was but a mere ovum. An odd little item but Casablanca Records was nothing if not excellent at marketing new versions and offshoots of their highly successful catalog. Remember when On the Radio: Donna Summer's Greatest Hits, Parts I and II, were repackaged so you could buy each volume separately rather than together?

Neil Bogart was a music, marketing, and merchandising genius, I tell you what. Legend has it that he was the one who came up with the idea to change "Love to Love You Baby" from a 3:30 single into a full 16-minute plus symphonic, orgasmic opus. And thus a galaxy of stars were born--Donna Summer, Giorgio Moroder, Pete Bellotte, Neil Bogart, Munich's Musicland Studios, Casablanca Records, and disco as a cultural phenomenon.

One funny thing about this record--it's a gatefold, so when you open it, you'll find in very creamy, romantic script the lyrics to "Love to Love You Baby." Which begs the question--people used to sing along to this in the '70s? It boggles.

2. A "Spécial Instrumental" edition of French disco band Voyage's first two albums, featuring instrumental versions of various tracks--including hits such as "Souvenirs" and "From East to West"--some of them greatly shortened from their original takes.


I have to admit I don't get the purpose of this record--the originals were fantastic with superlative vocal work chiefly by Sylvia Mason-James. These perfect little gossamer-winged angels of pop, Balearic in style long before Balearic was cool (in the mid-'90s, if I recall correctly). Oh la la. Probably some DJ concept that I don't understand--or the French label Sirocco was picking up ideas as it blew past Casablanca.

3. An early Bohannon album, Keep on Dancin', appearing on the Dakar label in 1972 (according to the record itself) or 1974 (according to Wikipedia). Regardless of the exact year, that album cover so clearly tags the release from the early 1970s: A lovely young woman in the fugliest sort of "Cherokee People" corduroy-chic ensemble you could ever imagine. With a tambourine and one maraca!

I never listened much to Bohannon at the time (covers like this might explain that). I knew about him, saw his discs in the stores, but didn't have enough curiosity to explore further. Even after hearing him name-checked in Tom Tom Club's "Genius of Love" ("Bohannon, Bohannon, Bohannon, Bohannon . . ."), I smiled knowingly but ventured squat. Only recently when another good friend requested one of his albums (impossible to find his work on iTunes, please note) for Christmas did I start to check out his music.

Here's one not on the album, 1975's "Bohannon's Beat," which should give you an idea about his barebones, funk-dance style.

4. and/or 5. Alas, I did not buy--a choice between Donna Summer's Four Seasons of Love album (with poster!) and Biddu's Rain Forest, assuming I had both at home. What an unpleasant surprise to realize that I do not, in fact, own these records--although I still think Four Seasons of Love is tucked around here somewhere. Hopefully they will be there when I return after payday.