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Disco isn’t dead after all: Escort’s self-titled album of dance music is an instant party

I love me some classic disco. And if you’re one of those that doesn’t mind admitting you too enjoy the upbeat sounds of the 70’s, look no further than the Brooklyn-based group Escort. Turning on Escort’s 2012 debut full-length album is like popping a can of Pringles: you know, once you pop the fun probably won’t stop anytime soon ‘cuz you’ll be all like, “oh my god, this happy-sounding stuff might not be all that terrible,” then disco balls start to drop out of nowhere as you fall into this sort of weird Saturday Night Fever trans you end up loving.

The first time I heard the 17-person group (yes, 17 people are capable of performing altogether at once to produce a danceable beat that isn’t too hard on the ears) I wanted more immediately, and I really want for everyone to be dancing to these songs at their next rendezvous, too. Or you know, on repeat while doing work (the album is also perfect for those procrastination dance parties alone in your room). While listening expect to hear violins, random assortments of percussion, trumpets, drums, and a blend of voices singing along to the grooves.

Escort sounds like a mix of Donna Summer, ABBA, and the crazy duo Boombox, all thrown together into an hour of disco-y, dance-y goodness. The album opens with my favorite song that initially got me hooked: “Caméleon Chameleon,” which speaks for itself in the “tomato, tomahto” type-way lyrically, getting you goin’ within the first 20 seconds of beats. “Tell me your real name, not gonna tell you what you don’t need to know/ For the love and respect for the laws of this great staaate.” The group’s playful and sexy lyrics run throughout every song and really just make us want to mosey around like we ain’t got nothin’ else to do but dance.

“Cocaine,” a song that has been mixed many times earlier in 2011 on various EPs, is their most well-known track and uses some pretty clever plays on words: “A knife, a fork, a bottle and a cork/ that’s the way we spell New York. […] Chicken in a car, the car won’t go/ that’s how we spell Chicago.” How the songs’ words coincide with the uplifting sounds are what make Escort so party perfect.

Escort has a few shows lined up in the near future, including their hometown in NYC and at the Metro in Chicago. And what I’m really trying to say is, hey Escort: come to LA! And get a Twitter! We want to party.

(photo via Rolling Stone)

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Kaitlin Duffy is a writer from Cleveland. When she's not blogging or pondering the great complexities of the world and outer space, she is finding rare vinyl steals, visiting new places, laughing often, Instagramming everything in sight, watching movies, or working on her first feature Port de Cleve.