THE RISE of dance music called disco—named for its popularity at the growing number of discotheques around the nation—became the hottest musical fad starting in 1974 and peaking three years later. Musically, disco took liberally from the sophisticated soul sounds of Philly International Records and Barry White, styles that took the rough edges off R&B, maintaining funk underneath a rich, orchestral tapestry of strings and horns. From 1973 to 1975, the Soul Train theme song, “TSOP (The Sound of Philadelphia),” was definitely one of the songs that inspired the disco movement. Over time the sound of disco would evolve, with lesser hands turning the innovations of the Philly Sound and White into bland formula, while keyboard-driven European dance music, or Euro disco, rhythmically flattened out the sound.
But disco was about more than music. It gave license for white people to couples-dance to pop music for the first time since the rock revolution of the late 1960s. Out went tie-dyed shirts, unruly hair, and shaking awkwardly to guitar solos. In were platform shoes, upscale fashions, and cocaine. The hustle, a touch dance with elements of Latin salsa and traditional ballroom, became the first dance associated with disco.
This combination of music and dance, which awakened a generation of white Americans to the pleasures of the dance floor, generated scores of dance shows—both on local television and in syndication—but Soul Train survived in large part because it was already way ahead of the dance-music curve. Though crafty white groups like the Bee Gees prospered by exploiting discomania, many of the musical acts featured on Soul Train were already making tracks being played at discos. While disco definitely sucked a lot of soul out of popular black music, it didn’t diminish Soul Train. In some ways, it helped the show.
Cornelius: Well, the key ingredient for the success of Soul Train was that it’s very solidly based on black music. These were the best dance records made for our beginning period, our second decade, our third decade, and any future decades. The best dance records made during those periods were black records. Made by black artists, black singers, black musicians. The best dance music was our folks, okay? And it took us to a point of decision when disco evolved. We didn’t know whether to join the bandwagon and say this is a Soul Train disco show. We didn’t know what to do, because disco came in strong. It was intimidating. And we came to realize that the best disco records, the very best, invariably—almost invariably—were black records. And so we made a commitment to just play the best black records we could find, during the disco era or not, and we remained okay. We just played the best dance records possible. You want to call it disco, fine. I’m playing the best dance records I can find, and most of the best disco records, if not all of them, were actually black records.
Disco would have a variety of impacts on black music. While rawer-sounding records never went away (with bands like Parliament-Funkadelic, Slave, the Bar-Kays, and Cameo staying true to the funk), the sophisticated sounds of disco were viewed by many record-industry executives as an easier way to reach white audiences. Some R&B stars found success adapting to disco flavor (Johnnie Taylor’s “Disco Lady” in 1976 was the biggest hit of his long career), while many great talents made their worst records chasing the trend. (Aretha Franklin’s 1979 album La Diva was her poorest-selling record ever.)
Disco also introduced a number of new acts to Soul Train. A few, like the New York–based band Chic, would have staying power. But most were one- or two-hit wonders (the Trammps, South Shore Commission, First Choice) who never sold many records outside the East Coast. More enduring was the impact disco would have on dancing on the show, as the hustle began sharing the dance floor with popping and locking. The long-legged individuality that dancers like Damita Jo Freeman had introduced to the show wouldn’t go away, but less funky, more self-conscious sophistication in movement and dress became part of the weekly mix. Soul Train was never overrun by the faux glitz of Saturday Night Fever, but dance culture was changing, and the show reflected that evolution.
But Don Cornelius would do more than accommodate disco acts on his show. He’d use disco as a springboard into his own label by plucking a couple of stars off his dance floor.