Word: disco
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...Romance, Ultravox abruptly departed from its first-record flirtations with Eno and the tempestuous attempts at punk mentality on the second release, Ha! Ha! Ha! The band took the Great Leap Forward, both in terms of control and content, shifting from mondo-meltdown rockers to cool and cerebral nouveau disco. The main interest moved to, the machines themselves. Push a button and watch the lights blink. It was hypnotic and irresistible...
METAMATIC finds the metamorphosis complete. John Foxx has joined the German brigade, complete with disco beat, limited musical cosmology, and spectacular special effects. He has entered the machines and, apparently, won. Foxx has taken a handful of songs and a handful of song fragments and given them the grand tour of the synthesizers. Nothing more, nothing less. Even though there's nothing experimental about Metamatic, the overall conceptualization more than compensates for form, as with the best of Kraftwerk...
...NIGHT WHIZZES, spinning like the strobe globe at the disco where you loosen your hips, grinding to a song you swore you hated when the deejay played it four times during the hour you sat on the highway edging toward her house, which you couldn't find because her handwriting is horrendous compared to her typing, which she used to get the job as a secretary in the firm where you work, filing paper and talking it over with the guy in your office who says he knows how to handle chicks and seems to be telling the truth because...
...sewage to flow down Malibu Creek to the ocean and forcing officials to close beaches along 25 miles of shore, as far south as Marina Del Rey. In Redondo Beach, harbor officials scuttled the Lady Alexandra, a 225-ft. ship converted into a restaurant and disco. Storm-whipped waves had turned the ship on its side, and officials feared the vessel might break its mooring cables and block the channel...
Friedkin does not pause to answer his question, driving on through increasingly dramatic sequences, fading out and fading in until he leads us back to the disco on Christopher St. This time, Pacino does not refuse the guy who grabs his hand and pulls him to the dance floor. He moves furtively at first, apprehensive. Male bodies fill the cave, twisting, punching, kissing, biting, stroking, tearing. On the wall, a giant neon American flag blinks omnisciently. A man in an executioner's leather mask watches from the side. Pacino's partner spins and flicks his blond curls. The drum pounds...