‘If Ray BLK did disco she would have been instantly relegated to Radio 2’: In search of the Black disco queens

The biggest so-called disco records of 2020, from Dua Lipa to Kylie, have all been made by white pop stars. Stephanie Phillips speaks to Solange producer Kindness, Jamz Supernova and the Studio 54 label and asks why the genre continues to be whitewashed

L-R: Doja Cat, Nile Rodgers, Kylie and Roisin Murphy (RCA/Getty/Darenote Ltd/Adrian Samson/Skint)

Cast your eye over the pop charts in 2020 and disco’s unmistakable influence reigns supreme: whether it’s Dua Lipa’s nostalgic take on club culture, Jessie Ware’s ecstatic escapism, Róisín Murphy’s eccentric outsider dance, or pop legend Kylie Minogue’s to-the-point new album DISCO, out this month, all have fallen for the genre’s sweeping strings, funk basslines or breathy vocals, the sound of Seventies nightclubs reborn. And the debate around who should be crowned the disco diva of 2020 marches on.  

Considering many of us won’t see inside a club anytime soon, perhaps it’s no surprise that anthems that remind us of disco have taken over the pop sphere. But though these artists have all separately brought their own creatively reimagined takes on a well-loved music style, one striking question jumps out: where are the Black disco singers? Given the genre’s roots in African-American and LGBT+ culture, what does it mean when those reaping the benefits of this fun-loving genre today are predominantly white? Could a Black female pop singer have the same amount of success with a disco sound?

Looking at the music charts today, you might be forgiven for thinking the genre had little to do with Black culture. Unfortunately, the whitewashing of disco began almost as soon as it left its heyday in the clubs of 1970s Philadelphia and New York, where records by acts like Donna Summer, Sylvester and Chic found an audience. Songs of the time were often politicised releases for marginalised minorities and gave African Americans a chance to voice their own social concerns.

After the “disco sucks” backlash in 1979, a rejection of the disco genre now thought to be rooted in homophobia and racism, mainstream retellings of disco changed. They lived on through the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, white, cheesy disco artists like the Bee Gees, flares and flashing dance floors. Tim Lawrence, author of Love Saves the Day: A History of American Dance Music Culture, 1970-1979, explained: “There was a sense that the black roots of disco weren’t well understood and disco was a sound and culture that was ridiculed.”

Though the term disco technically fell out of favour, its ethos lived on in house music and the nu-disco revolution of the late-Nineties and early Noughties with acts like LCD Soundsystem and Daft Punk referencing disco deep cuts. After a renewed interest in the origins of club culture came following nu-disco, more DJs and artists became enticed by the true history of disco.

Dancers at a London club in 1977 (Getty)

British producer Kindness, who worked with Jessie Ware on her latest album What’s Your Pleasure?, says that the artists they worked with were respectful of disco’s origins and wanted to celebrate it, rather than appropriate it. “When I speak to these artists,” they said, “I think they are more considering the Black lineage of disco or the American lineage of disco, because that’s where the real touchstones of the sound lie for them.”

A wider acceptance of disco as a legitimate reference point for producers and artists has been beneficial for many looking to use dramatic orchestral samples for their tracks. But according to BBC Radio 1Xtra host Jamz Supernova, it seems that Black musicians aren’t able to ride the cool wave in a similar fashion. “Young white DJs suddenly stumble across the likes of The Gap Band and by them playing it in their house and techno sets, people think it’s cool,” she explains, but by contrast, it’s the same “music that many black DJs grew up with”. As a result, she continues, “A Black DJ that plays disco would be seen as old and irrelevant. They would never get the same bookings playing the same music that a white DJ would get. Same goes for vocalists. If Ray BLK came out singing disco she would have instantly been relegated to Radio 2, but Dua Lipa does it and it’s cool and edgy.” As a result, Black women artists tend to be pushed towards soul or R&B by the music industry, rather than pop.

The unwritten double standard that sees Black female artists struggle to enjoy the same level of success as their white counterparts is starting to become a well-known industry story. The belief that Black artists don’t sell records combined with a need to capitalise on the energy of Black music has led to the frustrating trend of producers using Black female vocals in house and dance music uncredited. Whether it’s Loleatta Holloway’s powerhouse performance on Italian dance group Black Box’s No 1 hit “Ride on Time” or Shingai Shoniwa’s contribution to Dennis Ferrer’s club hit “Hey Hey” in 2009, Black voices are often valued more than Black faces.

The UK has a long history, too, of using white female artists to market music popularised by Black communities. DJ and founder of listening hub Classic Album Sundays, Colleen “Cosmo” Murphy – who also remixed Róisín Murphy’s single “Murphy’s Law” this year – has noticed this trend for decades: “You look at some of the soul artists [in the UK], and I’m not taking anything away from them, artists like Amy Winehouse and Adele are fabulous and deserve success – but why hasn’t there been a Black female artist who has been at that scale? Because there’s certainly women who can sing like that.”

Another reason that the disco sound may be scarce among current Black artists is that it is traditionally expensive to make, with live bands and analogue synthesisers. Bedroom soul and R&B could be said to lend itself more to intimate, understated sounds. But the potential for a Black pop star who could bring us all flocking to our kitchen discos is still strong, especially in a music landscape where artists are less dedicated to any one genre at time. There have currently been a few examples of Black pop stars bringing disco back: viral pop star Doja Cat saw success with 2020’s disco-pop earworm “Say So”, and former Destiny’s Child star Kelly Rowland’s new album is reportedly heavily influenced by disco and dance culture. And in the UK, new dance music duo The Vision are set to release a debut album inspired by Seventies disco and soul, featuring collaborations with a number of artists including London singer Andreya Triana.

Doja Cat enjoyed success in 2020 with her disco-pop banger ‘Say So’ (Rex)

Studio 54 Music, a new record label launched by the Studio 54 nightclub, which was at the centre of the NYC disco scene in the 1970s, are currently working with new Black artists like funk singer RickExpress and the frontwoman of disco-house group Escort, Nicki B The Vagabond. Lead A&R at Studio 54 Music, Willy Soul, feels the main roadblock for Black artists lies in how the industry is structured as a whole. “Could a Black singer have the same popularity or support using disco, as say Dua Lipa? Of course, but it’s just way more difficult,” Soul says. “White people control a majority of the creative industries and statistically, companies and labels are lacking that representation of artists. It’s honestly a pattern that will continue as long as white people are at the top of the industry food chain.”

Whether Black artists label their work as disco or not it still may be rooted in the freeing escapism that made disco so addictive. When up-and-coming UK R&B artist Samii fused disco rhythms into her latest EP Figuring it Out, she didn’t necessarily see herself as specifically drawing on the genre. Rather, her disco-leaning song was more inspired by her love for jazz, soul, R&B and her band: “I think because I listen to a variety of music, that’s why I felt the need to write it the way I did. I don’t think I did it in dedication to anything, it was just something that I felt would work.”

Samii’s untethered inspirations follow on the trend of artists who, freed by the streaming age’s wide access to music and curious about what lies in their parents’ record collection, prefer to play around with the idea of genre. For Kindness, the artist that encapsulates that sound is hiding in plain sight: “In the disco lineage I would say the most recent Solange record [2019’s When I Get Home] for me captured the avant-garde nature of disco and the bridge between organic instruments and synthesised instruments and jazz, and is maybe the closest anyone will come to at this time to a feeling of lightness and escapism and social commentary.”

Disco is part of Black musical history that gives space to those that need to work on societal anxieties in commune with others and express themselves on the dance floor. Though artists may not wear their influences on their record cover sleeves as openly as their white counterparts seem to, the essence and ethos of disco lives on very literally in just one undeniable thing: the groove. As Murphy says: “Sometimes disco is seen as a two-dimensional musical form that’s only for escapism. I’ve always felt that was a limiting way to look at it because disco was a movement for a lot of people.” Boiled down to its purest form, she says, it’s simply “music for the dance floor”.