In 1976, I was a painfully shy, clumsy, skinny, glasses-wearing high school freshman, occupying that no man's land between Tiger Beat and Seventeen, trying desperately to find some place, any place, to fit in. It was a time of satin bomber jackets, Love's Baby Soft, Bonne Bell Lip Smackers, feathered hair...and disco.

Disco is, of course, one of the most maligned musical genres in history, at least among straight, white people.  Who can ever forget Disco Demolition Night at Chicago's Comiskey Park in 1979, and the near riot that ensued?  Yes, disco brings out some powerful emotions in Americans, and I am not immune.

Many Saturday afternoons were spent fruitlessly practicing the hustle or some other new step in a friend's paneled rec room, or watching the dancers strut down the Soul Train line. Older sisters primped to go out for a night of dancing, looking for all the world like Charlie's Angels in their platform-soled, bell-bottomed glory.  That chasm between us, barely more than a few years, seemed infinite at the time.  Would I ever be that cool, that sophisticated, that beautiful?

When you're 14, every pimple, every bad hair day, every unrequited crush, and every school mixer spent standing in a corner, is perceived as an existential failure, bringing the sure knowledge that life will always be miserable and you will always be a loser.  You remember that scene at the end of the movie Big, when Tom Hanks gets his wish to become a kid again and asks Elizabeth Perkins to come back with him?  That "no-way-in-hell" look on her face is surely one with which most of us can identify.

Luckily, I found acceptance and identity a few years later in punk and new wave music, which didn't require that I dance a certain way, or look feminine, or wear my hair like Farrah Fawcett. Disco had made it very clear that it didn't want me, and so I, a woman scorned, became the walking antithesis of disco in just about every way possible. Colors gave way to black. Bell bottoms became jeans so tight at the ankle that trying to get out of them required contortions that I'm certain I could no longer master. Long, soft, layered hair became short, hard spikes. Dancing consisted of simply jumping and flailing. Lush, symphonic musical arrangments were replaced by two-and-a-half minute jangling guitar and bass riffs that left you gasping for air. I had been re-born.

But a reunion with an old friend last year around the holidays made me take another look at the music of my painful early adolescence. I met Michael in college, and he was the first person I had ever seen who had two turntables and a mixing board. He was more knowledgable about music than just about anyone I'd ever known, and he made me a couple of mix tapes back then that I still cherish to this day. His abiding love was dance music, and he went on to spend almost ten years as a senior writer at Billboard, specializing in dance and electronica.

After our re-meeting and subsequent friending on Facebook, I noticed that he would sometimes post videos of dance music gems, some known to me and some not. I was struck by how much I found myself liking many of these songs, despite some of the awful feelings they dredged up from my past. And when I listened to the song below, which I hadn't heard in ages, I was willing to let bygones be bygones forever and give myself over to the groove.

Here's a song that embodies just about everything that was wacky, wild and wonderful about the disco era:  Disco Inferno by The Trammps.

Let's discuss what is so good about this, shall we?

• Listen to the combination of bass guitar, keyboard and high-hat cymbal that produces such an infectious bounce. If you don't find some part of your body moving, you are either deaf or dead. I have heard disco minimized as simply "dance music," but I can scarcely think of a more noble calling for music than to make you want to use your body to express what you're hearing. There are many cultures which regard dancing as divinely inspired, a way to commune with god. Disco Inferno, and other disco music, may not be "sacred," but it certainly makes us feel the incredible power of rhythm and allows us to tap into that primordial space where music frees us from some of our earthly and bodily constraints.
• That keyboard player is making the most awesome boogie face throughout.  He is grooving, people, and he doesn't care who knows it! (Actually, they all look like they're having fun, and I like that. I think, overall, disco was largely a "feel-good" kind of music, which certainly has its place. Sometimes you just want to par-tay.)
• Look at all the people on that stage! Disco's lush arrangements required the talents of many people. Real string and horn sections meant lots of work for musicians, as well as producers, engineers and recording studios. I think disco singlehandedly kept the music industry afloat for a decade or so. One can argue whether or not that's necessarily a good thing, but lots of people made an honest living. That's all but gone now.
• This is a powerful lead vocal performance. I think many of us tend to forget the formidable pipes on these singers. From Jimmy Ellis in the video above, to Donna Summer, to the sisters of Sister Sledge, to the brothers Gibb, better known as The Bee Gees, who reinvented themselves into one of the most successful second acts in music history, these people could sing.  Burn that mother down y'all, indeed.
• Listen to that soaring bridge that starts at about 2:24. With those harmonies, it's clear that there is an unbroken line between disco and the Philadelphia Sound of the early and mid 1970s which, in turn, owes its roots to 1960s R&B and the jazz that came even earlier. Urban music has drawn on the talents of countless African-American musicians, and disco is very much a part of that heritage.
• The importance of disco to gay culture simply cannot be overstated. I'm sure that's worthy of a blog post by someone more knowledgeable than me, but it's hard to imagine one without the other. Disco music and disco clubs helped to establish and nurture a solid gay presence and identity in America that have only gotten stronger.
• This is just a well-written song. Period. Of course there were awful disco songs, just as there have been awful works in every other genre. It would be wrong to hold disco to a higher standard. For every "Disco Duck," I can give you an "Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini." Let's not lose sight of the fact that some of the greatest pop music craft can be found in disco - lyrics, melodies, arrangements, musicianship and production.

I am thrilled to have rediscovered this music with open ears, mind and heart. And so, I have decided to call up Tony Manero (or maybe even Disco Stu), check my baggage at the door of the 2001 Odyssey, and embrace that spinning mirror ball in my mind. Care to join me?