And somedays all we want to do is dance.
Over in good old Albion, we’re currently existing in that bright moment of detonation where we’ve all been bathed in the flash but neither the sound or fury have reached us yet.*
The populace of Albion shuffle about, split into competing ‘it’ll all be fine’ and ‘I’m pretty sure that flash was bad’ camps. Tents pitched, we all await salvation or destruction (or both). Under the black canvas of the 20JFG tent we nervously glance out across the nighttime desert, mushroom cloud on the horizon, idly calculating the moment the shockwave will reach us. And at times like these — times were time itself slows as the waves of shock and sound move in a stately dance across the desert floor — we have nothing better to do than dance.
While listening to Nite Jewel’s excellent mix for The Fader we were reintroduced to Ströer’s delicious Don’t Stay till Breakfast. Which first hit out ears during the heady days of nu-disco as part of Elaste’s Space Disco comp.
It’s all glistening disco-funk. Almost as if it’s the idea of what disco should sound like, in those perfect black and chrome clubs with beautiful people wearing beautiful things moving in beautiful ways. It’s got that Euro edge too (as the umlaut suggests, Ströer are German), with the slightly accented vocal making all sorts of existential invocations in advance of fucking. It’s a wonderful double hit of nostalgia then, and when the future’s so bright it’ll rip your face off, what’s wrong with that?
Get the reissue from Juno right here (other record stores / websites are available).
* Well unless you look or sound different, then the fury you’re experiencing is merely the fault of the rats. The rats that have emerged from underground to witness the flash. They’ve always been there, they’ve just been drawn to the flash. Honest guv’.