Now that I’ve written about Donna Summer and Chuck Brown, I would be remiss not to mention the passing of Robin Gibb of the Bee Gees.   Far better known than Washington D.C’s Go Go Music, which was popular during the 70s and 80s but remained a more regional genre,  the Bee Gees–formerly a blue-eyed soul trio called the Brothers Gibb–skyrocketed to stardom, along with John Travolta, because of their soundtrack to Saturday NIght Fever.  The Bee Gees are up there with Donna Summer in being the biggest stars of disco music.  And just like Donna Summer’s famous dance songs, songs like “Stayin’ Alive” still get plenty of rotation on dance floors around the world and will never be forgotten.

Punk didn’t kill disco.  Neither did the closing of Studio 54.   Au contraire. disco foreshadowed electronica, production values, and modern dance music everywhere.  In this photo Robin is on the left.

A lot of articles are now paying tribute to the Queen of Disco, the singer who started it all and influenced everybody from Madonna to Janet Jackson to Lady Gaga, Beyonce and beyond:  Donna Summer, who died this week after a battle with breast cancer.

But where does the word come from?  It’s not surprising that it started in Europe, when Giorgio Morodor discovered Summer in Germany when she was part of the touring version of the hippie musical Hair.  Discothèques go back to Paris underground jazz clubs during World War II.  It was where hip Parisians and German soldiers commingled to hear the latest American jazz on 78 rpm records, songs like “In the Mood” and Duke Ellington classics, all verboten by the Nazis but secretly adored by all.   Hitler and his top henchmen all hated jazz.  His soldiers in occupied Paris loved it.

The word “discothèque” probably comes from another French word, “bibliothèque”, which means “library”. Disque is the word for phonograph record, so discothèque is where you go hear records.

It’s no accident that I first heard the 17 minute version of “Love to Love You Baby”, the song that started it all in 1975, at a Parisian discothéque.  I wondered at the 23 orgasms the singer was having. It formed a kind of musical counterpart to Deep Throat and Behind the Green Door,  the first X-rated movies to go mainstream.   I was in the club because   my billfold had been lifted that day while at the Crédit Lyonnais, along with my passport, traveller’s checks and cash.  I went to the disco to drink and dance my problems away.   And discovered this strange new hypnotic dance music called disco.

While many are mourning the loss of Donna Summer today,  a lesser known artist is not getting much attention outside of Washington D.C.

Chuck Brown, known as the Godfather of Go-Go, immortalised on the classic Go Go Crankin’ lp from the mid-1980s, died Wednesday at the age of 75.  Along with the band Trouble Funk,  Go Go music started in Washington, D.C. during  the 70s and reached its peak of popularity in the early-mid 80s.  Chuck Brown and The Soul Searchers had classic songs like “We Need Some Money” (KCRW played that during fundraisers back in the day when I was Music Director).   Another popular Brown song was “Eye Candy”.  The hit I remember best is “I Feel Like Bustin’ Loose”.  I never saw the film with Richard Pryor and Cicely Tyson of the same name that featured the song, but certainly that brought the go go sound to a bigger audience.  The song “Bustin’ Loose”  has proved its longevity:  itstill feels very contemporary and keeps bodies moving on the dance floor.

Chuck Brown and Go Go Music remained pretty regional, and the zenith of its popularity always lay in the D.C. area.

“Chuck Brown made go-go to D.C. like jazz to New Orleans,” said D.C. Council Chairman Kwame R. Brown (no relation), 41, who grew up watching the musician perform. “He put it on the map. I still have live Memorex tapes from ’83, ’84, ’85.” (Washington Post Thursday, May 17th, 2012.)

Chuck Brown, RIP.   If you’re in D.C, you might see the street named after him:

A gorgeous new cd has just come out, called Amanké Dionti, by a Senegalese kora virtuoso, Ablaye Cissoko, and a German trumpet player, Volker Goetze.  It’s a follow up to their successful earlier album from 2008, Sira. It proves (once again) that the kora:  a traditional West African 21 string harp-lute, can go with anything.   An another cd, called Chamber Music,  features Ballake Sissoko (no relation), another kora maestro, with French cellist Vincent Segal.  It is an equally successful duet record. Such a successful melding of African and European traditions isn’t far-fetched at all.   This music is both soothing, beautiful, heartfelt and virtuosic.

The title Amanké Dionti  means “She is Not Your Slave”.   This refers to young women coming from impoverished villages to work for wealthier families in the cities, but rather than being provided by gainful employment and decent treatment,   they are often unpaid, held hostage, and treated like slaves (sadly, this is also the case in India, Mauretania, Northern Thailand, and many other countries).  Griots normally tell stories, relate history, and sing praise songs..   Cissoko tackles social concerns outside of this traditional role, something griots are not reall supposed to do.

Goetze’s muted trumpet provides beautiful musical synergy to Cissokos singing and kora playing.  Together they have toured many countries and enchanted thousands of listeners.  They were in LA this past fall for the World Festival of Sacred Music as well as other U.S. cities.   This new cd  will surely expand their audience.

Check out the video from a film that is being made about the pair, based on the song “Haiti”, part of the new cd.  It pulls together the historical connections between Senegal, Gorée Island (the island where slaves were processed and shipped out to the new world), Haiti, Brazil, and Cuba.  It is very moving.

Synedoche:  figure of speech wherein part represents  whole, e.g. “crown” stands for “king” or “queen”.

Objective Correlative:  T.S. Eliot’s literary device, akin to metaphor, where an object or thing  represents an emotion or feeling.

How do I know such obscure things?  Rather than following my dad’s advice to pursue a more practical career as a doctor or lawyer, I studied literature, finally taking an M.A. at UCLA.  Later I was in the Ph.d program, but when confronted by an obscure question about a lesser-known English poet named Charles Lamb in the part one written exams,    I walked out of that UCLA classroom room and away from the Ph.d program.  I left three months later for Paris with $400 in my pocket, a big smile, and no real plans.  I had gone to school in Paris a few years before so the City of Light was no stranger.

When I returned to the States 2 years later, it was tough getting a decent teaching job, even though I had three teaching credentials and  plenty of teaching experience.   So I took an even more risky career detour into music.  I would have been a terrible lawyer and could have never gone to med school and cut up a cadaver anyway.

But going back to seldom-used literary terms, occasionally they crop up in real-life situations.  For synedoche (sin-ek-dough-kee), I pulled into the SMC parking lot last Sunday to do my show.  I beheld the 1964 Chrysler New Yorker sedan, blue-green and in glorious original condition.  It belongs to Jason Groman, who runs logistics for KCRW, and also handles the KCRW mail and fulfillment departments, both crucial links between KCRW and its members.  The Chrysler harkens back to the era of great Amercian cars and embodies the taste and sensibility of its proud owner, who loves classic things, whether they be Paper Mate pens, Lawry’s Prime Rib, classic Magnavox hi fi consoles, and Sinatra ballads on the original vinyl.  It made me happy to see Jason’s car and to know I would also soon be seeing him.  Everybody at KCRW loves Jason Groman.  He’s a great guy and a unique human being.  The Chrysler New Yorker truly reflects him.

As for Eliot’s objective correlative:   I used to think that Sinatra’s Only the Lonely was his best album of torch songs.  Then I heard In The Wee Small Hours, and that trumped Only the Lonely.  Then I discovered No One Cares, and realized that this was numero uno.     On the cover of No One Cares, we see a photo of Sinatra in a club at the bar, alone, down and depressed, nursing a glass of whisky, smoking cigarettes while others gaily dance and romance in the background.

Then you look at some of the song titles:  ”A Cottage for Sale” is about a failed marriage.  ”Stormy Weather”, captures his tempestuous marriage and divorce from Ava Gardner.  These two song titles capture the essence of the album.   T.S. Eliot’s term, originally meant for aspiring poets,  actually comes up a lot in music.  These are just two examples.

So even though obscure literary terms do not have much use in daily life, occasionally they spring back to enliven the little things that make life more interesting.  And you don’t need a Ph.D to appreciate them.