life after doomsday

I couldn’t believe how much fun summer ’84 in Italy’s Rimini was—Britain was a miserable grey dump and, before acid house, the NME hadn’t given heteros permission to go clubbing or listen to dance music yet. Warm sunshine and Adriatic sea-breeze to caress your features, glasses of chilled Chianti, ice-cream and pizza parlours, sultry dark-haired booty wherever you looked, the buzz of Vespas up and down the main promenade—and then as dusk fell, still sporting my Ray-Bans, I’d go hand-in-hand with Carlotta and her 17-year-old sister to the Paradiso to get completely blissed out to the 100 percent happy sounds of Italian disco music.

And what an exciting soundtrack it proved to be to those memorable nocturnal frenzies: stolen exploratory fumbles and kisses and dodgy handjobs in the Paradiso’s toilets. Because 80s Italo-disco or Eurobeat, with its hardcore hi-NRG gay, amyl-nitrate-scented dance origins, is a pop music that’s actually both irresistibly sexy, genuinely infectious and tons more fun to lose your inhibitions to than the mainstream, supposedly “artistically superior” dance music that millionaire DJs churn out for ecstasy casualties who find spirituality in Ibiza...

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