Six Degrees of Chic
It used to be easier to pretend that an album was its own perfectly self-contained artifact. The great records certainly feel that way. But albums are more permeable than solid, their motivations, executions and inspirations informed by, and often stolen from, their peers and forbearers. It all sounds awfully formal, but it's not. It's the very nature of music — of art, even. The Six Degrees features examine the relationships between classic records and five other albums we've deemed related in some way. In some cases these connections are obvious, in others they are tenuous. But, most important to you, all of the records are highly, highly recommended.
The Album
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"What was open to us was punk rock and disco," Chic guitarist Nile Rodgers once told writer Rick Hollomon. "We tried punk rock, (but) in order to be big in punk you had to beat up everybody. So, we started hanging out at New York discos." Punk's loss became disco's gain as the combo of Rodgers' silvery guitar lines and Bernard Edwards elemental and canyon-deep bass became the gold standard for disco (the latter birthing hip-hop with just a few bars). Chic proved that beyond the cabal of producers, clubs, DJs, and chanteuses, disco could also be a rocking band. Their self-titled debut breezes through Brazilian bossa nova, Harlem jazz, urbane r&b and even pillowy eurodisco with deft assurance that altered all of what came after. And while true Chic ubiquity lay just one year ahead ("Le Freak" would follow on their second album, C'est Chic while "Good Times" would appear on 1980's Risqu) not to mention total saturation of early 80s radio (catalyzing everyone from Diana Ross, Madonna and Grace Jones to Queen and Talking Heads) the party starts right here. Yowza yowza yowza!
Behind the Velvet Rope
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While the sleek sophistication of Chic evokes the uptown club scene of '70s New York (even if "Le Freak" was concocted as a "fuck you" to the Studio 54 doormen), a half-hour ride down the 1 train would plunk you at the Paradise Garage, where Larry Levan was keeping it sweaty and street level. Nothing can quite encapsulate a weekend at the venerated club, but this massive two-disc set puts you close. It matches Levan's penchant for spinning pliant, ineffable tracks as well as juxtaposing wholly different types of music (synth duo Yaz into the twitchy new wave of Talking Heads on into jazz trumpeter Donald Byrd not to mention a few of the other artists on this list) to where, much like the dancefloor itself, (genre and personal) tags become meaningless.
Afro-Cuban Le Freaks
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One of Chic's deftest tricks was bringing the chord complexity of jazz to dancefloors, a heady listen commingled with the slick footwork. Taking the cue from Rodgers-Edwards (and no doubt with an eye on replicating their mainstream success) jazz pianist Patrice Rushen moved from sparring with jazz players like Joe Henderson and Ramsey Laws (as she did on her 70s Prestige albums) and edged towards the R&B charts, where she resided throughout a good part of the 80s. While her voice was more limited than her nimble piano playing, her sweet, girlish vocals and crafty hooks provided innumerable thrills to a new audience beyond jazzbo snobs. This fine effort has one of her biggest hits "Haven't You Heard?" as well as the bouncy "Call On Me," and throughout, traces of Stevie Wonder, Earth Wind & Fire and others abound, yet Patrice's voice remains singular in the space between jazz, funk, and R&B.
The Funky Jazz-Pop Fusion
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Writing about the release of Chic's "Le Freak" single the week of October 21, 1978, disco scribe Vince Aletti cedes that it "is likely to be the most commercially successful of the 'freak' records released so far if only because the others were too genuinely freaky." Harlem's own Adams should've copyrighted "freak," as he evoked that funky sensation on every track, be it with his Universal Robot Band's "Freak With Me" on down to this studio creation (as well as the massive cut here, "I'm a Big Freak [R*U*1* 2]." With a production legacy stretching back to late 60s soul on into early hip-hop, Adams' productions remain instantly recognizable: orgazmo synth spurts, block party percussion breaks, and that everpresent perfume of "le phreek."
The Overlooked Nu-Disco Classic
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By the time New Jersey duo Metro Area (DJ/ producers Morgan Geist and Darshan Jesrani) dropped their fourth exquisite nu-disco 12" as Metro Area, "Death From Above" meant airborne rangers and not the disco-punk label, "Losing My Edge" was still just a laundry list compiled by a frustrated drummer named James Murphy, Norway was internationally known for its salmon, and disco singles gathered dust in the 50-cent bins at record shops. As sexy and intricate as Chic's finest moments, the sumptuous amalgamation of strings, analog keypads, canned handclaps with warm sprinklings of femme ululations, flute, and live drums by Metro Area set the table for disco's resurgence in the 21st century. Nearly ten years on, it sounds like it'll still be the blueprint for the generations ahead.
