Phoenix is one of those cities where certain pubs become “THE” place to go at certain times. Kobalt, a fine establishment catering to those who, in days gone by, might have been referred to as “nature’s bachelors, is such a place. There are many pubs in Harper’s Valley catering to the homo clientele but Kobalt is the place to be for Happy Hour on Friday.
Kobalt is not a dance club but the music is usually what I think of as dance music. It’s hard to be more specific than that because the songs themselves aren’t familiar to anyone old enough to remember Reagan. It’s lively and there is a lot of bass. The accompanying video usually shows young men who look like adolescent heroin addicts or young women sporting hair colors not usually seen outside a store selling tropical fish… or jelly beans…. and wearing costumes that must require them to spend many hours getting waxed. I usually like the music. I just don’t know much of it.
Last night, for some undisclosed reason, rather than the usual musical fare they were playing 70’s disco. The good news is that every song was instantly familiar; words and music. The bad news is that every song was instantly familiar; words and music. I look back on the 1970’s with a lot of ambivalence and that includes the music. Some of the songs are great or evoke nice memories, or both. Others prompt a groan of recognition after the first few seconds; even after 35 years. Last night offered quite a mixture.
And the ugly…
When Donna started to sing “Love To Love You Baby” I started clicking my heels together and quietly chanting; “there’s no place like home”. When I heard the first few bars of the Hot Chocolate classic, “I Believe In Miracles”, I knew it was time to hop back into the Way Back Machine, in our case a 2012 Hyundai, and venture off in search of food and the 21st century.