Old Punk Moment 387
In the 1970s there were dance clubs where white people awkwardly moved to Led Zepplin and and Queen. I think they were generically called Rock Clubs. Then in 1977 Saturday Night Fever appeared and disco fever swept the land, turning every other loser into Disco Stu, Disco Sally, disco ducks and overall hairstyle and fashion victims.
Sure, other people might have existed, but if you were a teenager you had to choose between rock and disco. It was war.
In 1979 the Chicago White Sox sponsored the infamous "Disco Demolition Night", where disco records burned in the outfield of Comisky Park as a riot broke out. The fumes were toxic, exacting an ironic revenge on the rockers.
After many years and battles we finally got the morning music changed at my gym, L.A. Crapness. Instead of all (c)rap or slow jam they play a station with a variety of middle option tunes, so I often hear "Rock Lobster", "The Devil Went Down To Georgia", "Blister In The Sun" and helpings of disco cheese from back in the day. It's still cheesy and laughable, but, to be honest, compared to what's out there now, what I once thought was a sign of End Times is now quaint and goofy.
I didn't admit liking The Spinners' "Rubberband Man" because it was a hit at the disco. Hearing it now I realize it's a Motown classic and not disco at all. So I am, was, and forever shall be, Hard To The Core!
(Here's how to say "Hard To the Core" correctly. Start in a neutral stance with your hands to your side. Say in a normal, slow voice "I'm Hard", pause, then pump your fists in front of your chest, your tense forearms crossing into the Straight Edge "X" while saying in a louder, faster tone "To-The-Core!", dragging out "core" for appropriate effect. Now you try it!)