On the one hand, I know there are a million more important things than music.

But on the other hand, what other art performs even a tenth of the service? What else drives, inspires, reflects and amuses like music? A film can be great art while it's shown - but why watch it again? Unlike music, to repeat the experience only lessens the rewards. A book comes a close second, particularly in terms of inspiration - but a book can't offer the whole instant immersion that music can and does (and this from an enthusiastic writer).

All of which only begins to explain the almost spiritual conversion I've recently had to disco music.

Let's just write that again.

Disco music

How did this whole genre, which itself can be split into a constant mutation of sub-genres, which has led and developed into the finest music of the latter two decades of the 20th century and way on into the first decade of the 21st, how did this music become so maligned? What weird prejudice occurred and set (like an odd Fascistic Glue)?

For me, the conversion began in earnest maybe three years ago, from a long foundation of only the briefest pebbles and seeds. And, perhaps like disco music itself, it began with Mr James Brown.

For many years I owned three records which I enjoyed but didn't consider particularly important: JAMES BROWN Sex Machine - The Greatest Hits, Classic Funk Mastercuts Volume 1 and Classic Salsoul Mastercuts Volume 1(a record I only bought because I was having a rich week and thought the previous Funk album was okay).

As I began replacing old vinyl with CD - due to space more than any other concern - I eventually came to these two. Should I replace them?

I ebay-replaced Classic Funk Mastercuts Volume 1. Not having been enthused by anything like this for years, I replayed The JB's and JAMES BROWN tracks ('Gimme Some More' & "Stone To The Bone") almost endlessly and wondered: What makes these grooves work? What spirit drives this music past intellectualism? If you choose not to dance, then the music just transcendentally grooves you. The music bonds - it isn't difficult to learn or play but it's difficult to play together. It's difficult to do so well.

A bass-line as simple as Stone to the Bone - maybe four or five notes in total for ten minutes - has to rest with the drums to move your feet. It has to draw only the slightest attention to itself to allow the guitar and horns room. It has to be there so that Mr Brown can in turn both shout inspirations and make yousmile. In other words, the twin aims of dance - spiritual elevation and, gosh darn almighty, fun!

Mr Brown was, of course, the hardest working man in show business, and a quick examination of his peak years shows that this wasn't just hyperbole.

Between 1965-1975 James Brown released a seemingly infinite number of recordings under his own name, under his backing band's names, under various pseudonyms while also performing production duties for other artists on various labels, which are basically James Brown records with different (often female) vocalists. (At the same time, James Brown maintained not just one of the toughest performing schedules ever, but various businesses not directly connected with the thing they call "show". How the man survived as long as he did is anyone's guess.)

A lot of this music is still difficult to get hold of or spread among various CD anthologies of varying qualities… But, suffice to say, much of James Brown's best stuff from this period is on compilations - "In The Jungle Groove", "Foundations of Funk 1964-1969", "Funk Power 1970", "Make It Funky 1971-1975" and The J.B's "Funky Good Time: The Anthology" are all essential.

During 1965-1975 James Brown had too much going on to be concerned with consistent whole albums. His thing was 7” singles spread out into "Part 1" on the A-side and "Part 2" on the B-side. On the above compilations, most of these are re-edited back to their original long form, making the tracks into some of the best 12” singles never made.

Out of the actual original albums I own by James Brown, only two are truly consistently great: Damn Right I Am Somebody by Fred Wesley & The J.B's and the ultimate James Brown masterpiece: 1974's The Payback.

The fact that The Payback is still only widely known among funk/dance fans is as great an example of the prejudice against black / dance music as any. When those all-important "Best of" lists are compiled on a monthly basis, if any James Brown album gets mentioned at all it's his first Live at the Apollo album. A great album, an uncompromising album - but not an album which has stood the test of time very well. Like a lot of Ray Charles, one has to squint one's eyes almost shut to see what was / is (?) so great about it.

But whereas one can only see the Live at the Apollo album through nostalgia, with the absolute knowledge that it's music from the past, The Payback offers no such concessions. The prejudice against it is often hidden behind jocular fears of its tough reality (The 1970s! Afros! Slip me some skin brother!). The Payback is raw, contemporary and dangerous. Yes, dangerous - an adjective difficult to reconcile with the later James Brown parody of the 1990s and early noughties.

At times, The Payback sounds like rap - and not a nice version of rap, but an ugly, bitter, streetwise version. At times, it sounds experimental - but not an aural white recording experiment, but an experiment into a collective unconsciousness, at times a dark unconsciousness - where a nearly 13 minute piece has no lyrics save for Mr Brown's occasional Samuel-L-Jackson-voicing-Speedy-Gonzales impression and the uncompromising title Time is running out fast. And then there are the relentless grooves - where James makes up a whole four minutes worth of lyrics on Mind Power and succeeds. Even when he fucks up, he doesn't; he just knows.

Damn Right I Am Somebody was released very soon after The Payback. It is credited to Fred Wesley & The JBs, but you may as well read that as James Brown & Fred Wesley - just like The Payback. (Another good album with the same team credited to Maceo - "Us" - was also concurrently released; James Brown & co. just didn't stop.)

Possibly James Brown's most extreme album, Damn Right features 5 straight consecutive tracks of sonic adventure - the Krautrock or Miles & Teo of I'm paying taxes, what am I buying, the ecstatic proto acid-house Blow your mind, the disembodied sampled preacher's voice (Jessie Jackson?) that graces Same Beat - before a foray into the then-emerging Philly sound and a simultaneously amusing and sinister cover of Marvin Gaye's You Sure Love to Ball.Only an over-long Hank Ballard sung track spoils the fun. As with most JBs tracks (or Fred Wesley & The JBs, or The Last Word, or The Devils, or Maceo & The Macks, or AABB & other spur-of-the-moment names) the focus is on the instrumental, the dance floor. But Damn Right I Am Somebody creates a world within itself, with the concept laid out in both the Bitches Brew/Sextant-like sleeve, and the jazzed guttural screams of Make it good to yourself that segue the album like a continuous dancing dream. And for all the prejudices against The Payback, they are as nothing compared to the prejudice against Damn Right I Am Somebody: it's only available in Japan / on expensive Japanese import. (And to think of the crap that stays in print…)

But then, even among the fans, there is a general consensus that James Brown lost steam from the mid-70s onwards.

Not true: a compilation called Dead on the heavy funk 1975-1983 shows that James Brown may have lost popularity but he remained consistently forward. His voice was unchanged, and the grooves of I Refuse to Lose, For Goodness Sakes, Eyesight and A Man Understands show undiminished powers and even, at times, the effects that Disco was having on James Brown (after all the vice versa-ing). Naturally, the full albums from this period are NOT currently available and becoming rarer than a sincere politician.

But (with The J.B's tracks in particular) James Brown left so many breaks that (latterly) just beg to be sampled. And when one begins to dig the power of that break - be it the long bass & drums section of Giving up food for funk, thealmost empty extended groove of You Can Have Your Watergate, the ecstatic anger of Let a Man Come in and Do the Popcorn - is when one begins to see music. The feelings may be personal, and they aren't (they ain't!) spelled out like some pedagogic folk preach - but they're there to be captured and drive you to new heights. Somewhere, I imagine that James Brown knew this. He must have felt it. What else kept him going for so long at such an impossible pace? And if James Brown didn't feel it, then there were plenty of others who did…

It is arguable which DJ first worked the break - the drum break (sometimes drum & bass break) - of a record. It isn't arguable by me you understand, I can just tell you what I've read elsewhere (Nicky Siano, Kool Herc, David Todd, et al). But among the first (there's no arguing with that), was Mr Walter Gibbons.

A pioneer, a visionary and a genius, Walter Gibbons was given the opportunity to work his skills at "blending" - re-editing, basically - in the studio by record label Salsoul's head Ken Cayre, who'd seen Walter do much the same thing in clubs with 7”, 10” & later 12” promos & obscure album cuts. This was the first time a mere DJ had been given such an opportunity, and Walter seized it with both hands.

The resulting track - a 9.45 version of Ten Percent by Double Exposure - was a revelation. It was so good that Salsoul released it as the first commercial 12” single (considered a gimmick at the time). Today, the track doesn't hold up quite as well as its reputation or other Walter Gibbons mixes - but to compare the 7” mix with the Walter Gibbons version is to see how Walter gave the track a trance-like power. He added the spirit of James Brown, of something urgent and tribal. He repeated what needed repeating for the dancers, knowing that the dance was the most important thing. He teased the beat out to its correct length. Yet, because the original track was so full of Philly Soul (Salsoul & Philadelphia International Records often used the same musicians), Ten Percent was still light and fun. Yes, fun. Now there's a word that makes the rock scribes sneer. It was a fun that Walter knew could bring both spiritual and ecstatic revelations - a fun to work at and make perfect.

And after that, Walter Gibbons just got better & better.

Walter mixed Catch me on the rebound by Loleatta Holloway thrice - Once as a gospel induced ecstatic 10 minute mover, twice as an instrumental which begins with the bass and then adds, adds and adds (surely a work for other DJs of the time) and thrice as part of his experimental album "Disco madness". And the gaps between the mixes only serve to illustrate Gibbon's artistic growth, which then, as now, was sneered at as impossible for a mere DJ. What began as a Phil Spector pop song crossed with a James Brown beat with a dash of Philly soul to dance dance dance, gradually became an analysis of sound and movement. By the final mix, Walter's penchant was to do away with the bass and let the drums carry effected vocalisms or echoed snatches of instrumentation, a uniquely visual dub-influenced take on dance/disco music that still hasn't attained the popularity of, say, Larry Levan.

Walter created famous mixes of The Salsoul Orchestra's Nice & Naasty & Loleatta Holloway's Hit & Run - both of which showed (and continue to show) the potential and craft of mixing a record, and both of which equally show a debt to that other mix pioneer, the wonderfully soulful Tom Moulton. But the true genius of Walter Gibbons lies in his bizarre work - Moon Maiden by Luv You Madly Orchestra, It's Good For The Soul by The Salsoul Orchestra, (Dance with me) Let's believe by Cellophane. All records that stand up to scrutiny under any microscope, all records that put many other "classic" records to shame, and all records that wouldn't be a quarter of what they are without Gibbon's touch. (And all of which are available on the superlative 3CD set Mixed With Love - The Walter Gibbons Salsoul Anthology, a CD that should be in AT LEAST the top 20 of ANY "best records of all time" list, and a CD which is currently and criminally out of print. Seek out a copy quickly before the price goes astronomical.)

A temperamental, insecure yet committed man - Walter's career ebbed & flowed over the "80s, including a few more classics (especially the proto-electro-techno monster Set if off by Strafe - the 12+ minute "instrumental' mix is a part- Kraftwerk, part-Prince, part-Arthur Baker monster.) Walter died in the early 1990s under-recognised, having at one time alienated even his own alienated crowd with his born-again religious fervour, his stubbornness and his shyness. But to call Walter Gibbons a genius is almost to under-appreciate the very word itself.

I find that some songs continue to be touchstones for me. Just hearing the music I grew up with and revisiting certain songs again can send me hurtling back in time to my youth, remembering the events, thoughts and feelings of that time.

Here are some songs that have personal significance for me, as the music that helped define my youth.

1. Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds by Elton John

   As a little girl, I remember waking up early on weekend mornings and listening to Elton John on my little blue plastic Panasonic Toot-a-Loop radio (I used plastic ear buds and my big sister's matching donut shaped radio was bright yellow decorated with peace sign stickers!)

   I had no idea what Elton was talking about when he mentioned the girl with kaleidoscope eyes, but I wanted to know more. This song fascinated me, as a kind of gateway to mysterious grown up stuff I then knew nothing about. I was a creative kid, I loved the imaginative lyrics and this song seemed all about play and wild fantasy worlds.

2. Blowin' in the Wind by Bob Dylan

   Whenever I hear this song, I am transported back to my second grade class taught by Ms. Lynk. My teacher was a hippie and I decked myself out in love beads and braids and colorful outfits so I could be just like her. How I adored Ms. Lynk and some of my other teachers at the time! We used to sing this song in class, and perhaps that stimulated my interest in performing (I would later go on to perform in plays and study acting.)

   Memories of Dylan make me recall a time of peace and love and a circle of school kids swaying and singing along to that song. Everything seemed much simpler then, in an era before color coded alert levels, a time when the answer is blowin' in the wind…

3. American Pie by Don McLean

   American Pie was one of those songs that was everywhere as I was growing up, and it became a sort of anthem of my youth. In a time before iPods and music downloads, there was just the local radio station to rely on, along with spinning some vinyl. American Pie was constantly playing in the background when I was a little girl; at about eight and a half minutes long, the song seemed neverending to my young ears!

   The song has additional significance to me, because in 1964, Don McLean won the first ever talent search competition at a local summer fair called The Dutchess County Fair in Rhinebeck, New York.

4. Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin

   Along with American Pie, Stairway to Heaven was another one of those songs that seemed to go on forever. This made it the perfect background music for school dances and for the prom! When someone asked you to dance during Stairway to Heaven, you were assured of spending many minutes out on the dance floor, holding on tight to your crush and swaying to the endless strains of Zeppelin.
   
   Stairway to Heaven always evokes for me memories of school dances in the old gym of our tiny rural high school in the Hudson Valley. When it wasn't being used for basketball games, our creaky old gym with the ancient wooden stage was dressed up in cheesy disco lights and lots of crepe paper for dances and special events. Led Zepplin makes me think of cotton ball clouds, too much construction paper and the crepe paper streamers that decorated the old gym for our junior prom theme: Stairway to Heaven (the effect was a little tacky, but fun!)

5. Rock Lobster by The B-52's

   School dances in our tiny farming community also featured a ritual called the battle of the “air bands.” I had a crush on a boy named Rick, a family friend. One night Rick dressed up with some classmates as The B-52's, complete with tight pants, punked out hair and sunglasses, and the group did their best Rock Lobster for the crowd.
   
   Punk seemed a little preposterous for our tiny, All-American community in upstate New York that certainly had no edge. But Rick rocked the house. I also remember getting to dance with Rick for endless minutes to Stairway to Heaven, which was divine.
   
   When I was a senior in high school Rick died in a tragic accident, but whenever I hear those songs it always brings me back to those sweet, innocent high school memories of the times we shared together.

6. We Got the Beat by The Go-Gos

   Who can forget the thrill of getting their learner's permit and hitting the open road? (and trying not to hit anything with the car!) We Got the Beat by The Go-Gos was the background music as I was first learning to drive. I loved the infectious pop beat and the girl power of this fun group. I loved every song on The Go-Gos Beauty and the Beat album and I played their songs over and over the summer I learned to drive (a tiny, four on the floor bright yellow compact Chevette with cool red racing stripes!)

7. Call Me by Blondie

   Before I got out of high school, something pivotal happened in my development: I discovered Blondie. Blondie was such a revelation to me and other girls. Here was a strong woman, unafraid to be powerful, individual and sexual. Anyone who undersold Debbie Harry as just another dumb blonde quickly changed their mind. Her lyrics, her sound and her delivery were unlike anything seen before, and she definitely helped change the role of women in the music industry. Every time I heard Call Me, I was impressed by how cool Blondie was, and their downtown New York vibe made me long to leave the Hudson Valley to pursue my own artistic career in New York City.

8. New York State of Mind by Billy Joel

   I'll admit it: I wasn't one of the cool kids in school. I was either a drama geek, or spending time in the library hitting the books, dreaming of my fabulous future that would begin when I left upstate New York.
   
   I recall hours spent in our small school library spinning Billy Joel records. I was in the honor society, which meant that I could wander the school and do what I wished during my study halls. So I chose to sit in the library and hang out in the peaceful courtyard there, or go into the music room and put on some headphones and listen to Billy Joel.
   
   Joel sang about Chinatown, and Riverside…and totally being in a New York state of mind. Whenever I hear that song I think about being young and dreaming of a performing arts career in the Big Apple, and a shiny new life that I felt was waiting for me in Manhattan.

Now that I've been to New York City and returned home to the Hudson Valley, I have a greater appreciation for growing up in a small town. These are some songs that make me fondly remember my youth in upstate New York.

Thank you for reading. I know there is a lot here, but if you are looking for good music, this is the place to start.

It seems to me that rap and hip hop have made their way into a lot of formerly "traditional" styles of music, such as rock, R&B, funk, and EVEN COUNTRY! Now, I know that music changes over the years, for instance: Pearl Jam or Eve 6 probably wouldn't go over too well in James Brown's time. (I Feel Good knowing that). (Get it?). I think it's unfortunately becoming a reality that musicians are forgetting the early stuff. Just because it's "old school," doesn't make it bad.

It's like Mike Tyson. He may not be the number one boxer today, but I would be pretty sure the average guy wouldn't last long in the ring with him. The same goes for music. Take a piano player like Art Tatum. He was so good, he was often accused of sounding like there were two sets of hands playing. Even some of today's best players can't play Art Tatum's stuff. In fact, a lot of really good players today, haven't even heard of him.(If you really like jazz piano he's the man).

I'm shocked at how many people (especially kids), don't know-and don't care about where the music they listen to came from. For example, what we would call "classical" music Bach and Mozart would have most likely considered "hip" in their day. ( Those two would have been the "hippest"). Then you have rag time and jazz, which were borrowed from classical; blues and swing borowed from jazz; country, rock, funk, and disco borrowed from blues. How did rap get in there? I would think rap is more like poetry or a writing style than music.

Whatever happened to straight forward blues? Or straight forward rock and roll; or sraight forward country. (And so on).

Then there is the lifestyle associated with the music. Just because a person listens to classical, doesn't mean they have to be an "Ivy League snob." If a person listens to hip hop and rap, does that mean they have to become a violent, drive- by shooting thug? I don't think so. How about country? Does that mean you are automatically a redneck; or you have to be a drunk; or drive a beat up truck. Does that mean that you live on a farm?(I know people who wouldn' know what a tractor even looks like). If you are a rock listener, does that make you a drug addict just because you like Pink Floydd?

Whatever happened to the blues? Three chords, a good beat, and raw instruments like piano, guitar, organ, and maybe a little clav thrown in?

Let' appreciate the art of the many forms of music, and not the lifestyle attached to it. I hope I struck a note here.