 Village People It's kind of unfortunate that the Village People have become one of the biggest punchlines of the disco era, a group the mere mention of which will inevitably incite peals of laughter from idiots of every age. It's ironic that so many kids conceived during that era find the 70s so hilariously funny. It's a second-hand form of sarcastic appreciation, handed down through TV and movies like Wayne's World 2, wherein the Village People are established as a joke before most of these people would have heard of them independently. Much like Dana Carvey's Johnny Carson, only the afterimage is remembered in the end. But the Village People will always own their particular pocket of pop music history, for they were the titans of Jacques Morali's "Can't Stop" disco empire that also produced the Ritchie Family and countless also-rans. Gregarious, formulaic pop with football-club vocal hooks was the perfect vehicle for the visually gimmicky group that catered to gay clubgoers and grannies alike. The Village People, inadvertently, became superstars on the strength of extra-catchy songs, before anyone could sort out the fine print. To this day they remain the most blatantly gay-themed group to ever crack the Top 40. Jacques Morali's brilliance in conceiving the unlikely amalgamation of "hot cop," construction worker, Indian chief, leatherman biker, and "man in uniform" military man as a pop singing group can not be denied. In assembling a group comprised entirely of gay fantasy archetypes, Morali essentially invented a gay Beatles (or at least Spice Girls). And while the gay subtext of the songs was barely even below the surface (song titles: "Fire Island," "Hot Cop," "San Francisco (You've Got Me)," "Macho Man"), it was kept far enough away from porno to rope in millions of people who just liked the songs. The Village People were a triumph of the new music business, and although they are difficult to appreciate without thinking that every frat party and wedding in every town in America plays "Y.M.C.A" with predictably moronic results, they are easy to appreciate musically: Great songs. The Best of Village People contains pretty much every song you'd want from the band, all the hits and several that weren't. "Y.M.C.A." and "Macho Man," apart from their tiredness factor, are still hilarious, wonderful pop songs, and are always worth a listen as long as you don't have some begoateed guy with a backwards baseball cap laughing smugly as soon as they come on. "In the Navy" and "Go West" also make their appearances, in 12" versions for maximum disco fantasia. The creepily unprophetic "Ready For the 80s" is included, surprisingly not among the many VP classics misappropriated by recent "comedy" cinema. Beyond "Can't Stop the Music" the songs start to show their remarkably similar architecture, including some identical melody lines and probable re-used rhythm tracks. Still, even though several songs have exactly the same intro, or perhaps because of that, the songs are all memorable. The self-conscious campiness goes a long way: Victor Willis (lead singer and hot cop) provides some of the most satisfying ad-libs you could want: "I better sleep with my socks on!" he shouts during "Key West." Or toward the end of "Macho Man," extolling his own "thick moustache" and "broad shoulders." I'd love to see Savage Garden try to pull that off. And you have to love any group that gets the word "oceanography" into a song ("In the Navy"). The best-of (wisely?) avoids any tracks from the ill-advised comback album that attempted to reinvent the People as new-wavey New Romantics a la Duran Duran, sticking to the tried and true, hits from the glory days of disco, when anything went. My recommendation of The Best of Village People is predicated on the notion that it is not an ideal party disc, unless you're just a damn fool with no imagination. I know, I know, the day will never come when the soundtrack to The Apple is acceptable party music, but give me a break! I'd recommend home listening with no more than three people in the room, to be able to revisit the original subversion. Or better yet, totally alone, buck naked with a copy of "Manchild" and no interruptions.
Review by John Sob |