"Disco's Revenge" co-directors Omar Majeed (left) and Peter Mishara (second from right) pose with funk act Cymande's guitarist Patrick Patterson and bassist Steve Scipio (right) in a handout photo. THE CANADIAN PRESS/HO-Elevation Pictures **MANDATORY CREDIT**

TORONTO - Disco's death was greatly exaggerated, argue the filmmakers behind "Disco's Revenge," a new documentary that aims to recapture the glory days of nightlife under the mirrorball.

The music genre that defined the late 1970s has often been the butt of jokes in the decades since, but co-directors Omar Majeed and Peter Mishara say the sound is woefully underappreciated.

"I think if you are a true music nerd, disco has got to be part of the equation," explained Majeed, who previously directed "Taqwacore: The Birth of Punk Islam."

The Toronto filmmaker, alongside his New York-born, Toronto-based co-director Mishara, make their case by interviewing musicians who left their mark on disco records as the genre rose from funk and soul music.

Chic guitarist Nile Rodgers, partygoer and actor Billy Porter, and DJs Nicky Siano and Jellybean Benitez, are among those who recount how disco united Black and LGBTQ+ communities before its mainstream breakthrough led to an eventual backlash.

"I'm very interested in the ways certain marginalized or underrepresented groups intersect with popular culture," Majeed added.

The two filmmakers recently discussed the sequined stories of disco's lineage with The Canadian Press. "Disco's Revenge" is now available to rent and buy through digital platforms.

CP: Omar, you have an established history in music documentaries, but Peter your doc work has largely been in other corners of pop culture. What attracted you to a film about disco?

Mishara: I’m originally from New York and a big part of my life was hip-hop. I knew that I wanted to do something on the music scene in the '70s. I always thought it would be hip-hop. What blew my mind was all of these songs that I associated with the hip-hop world were tied to disco and dance (samples). I was head over heels because I thought there was incredible history and people weren't connecting those two worlds.

Majeed: We didn't want to make a music genre documentary. We wanted to tell a story about a time and a place. And so, there are no historians, commentators or critics that explain things. It's all told from the perspective of the people who built the scene, in the spirit of an oral history.

CP: The title "Disco's Revenge" was lifted from a quote by legendary DJ and producer Frankie Knuckles, who used the phrase to describe house music's rise from the ashes of disco in the early 1980s. Can you explain why you landed on this name for your movie?

Majeed: It worked on a lot of levels for us. We all know what disco is, but what's the revenge aspect? If we went with something with "boogie" (in the title), people might assume it's going to be a fun, nostalgic ride through the Bee Gees and KC and the Sunshine Band.

CP: The documentary opens with the infamous Disco Demolition Night in 1979, which saw a Chicago radio DJ encourage people to bring their disco records to a local stadium where they were destroyed in a mass detonation. It was a symbolic gesture of disco's oversaturation at the time, but in more recent years, some say it was a nasty moment in music history laced with racial undertones and homophobia.

Majeed: That's exactly spot on. And I think that's what makes disco such a fascinating subject. It had these humble and communal beginnings, but its mainstream (popularity) was so intense that it became a target. We think of the world nowadays as very polarized, but you can see the roots of those culture wars in what happened. You had this vibrant subculture that was cosmopolitan, very New York, very progressive, birthed out of the civil rights movement and Stonewall. It builds off that energy and then gets appropriated into "Saturday Night Fever," platform shoes and K-tel Records. More than any other music genre, it was so viciously maligned.

Mishara: Even at the time, there was a negative reaction to Disco Demolition, but the voices of people upset by it were not amplified. In this doc, we tried to give a bit of time to those voices. Nile Rodgers, in particular, had an emotional reaction to that event.

Majeed: I don't think anybody went there saying,"Let's be racist and homophobic," but it was there in the culture. (They were) reacting against disco, which was essentially this way for people to gather and express themselves as freely as possible. Steve Dahl, the radio DJ who ran the event, dressed up in army fatigues. There's something about the way it presented itself that was coded, even if most people there weren't thinking about it in those terms.

CP: Your documentary is certainly not the first about disco's history, but admittedly there aren't many which span the entire genre, and the ones that exist weren't all warmly received. Why did you feel now was the time to take another swing at the subject?

Mishara: For us, the idea of finding joy in life, and connecting with others, is something we really need right now. As technology progresses and we become more and more isolated, I think joy in that connection is so essential.

Majeed: It's funny thinking about Disco Demolition. Pete and I watched that footage backwards and forwards and it sets a blueprint for the Trump rallies. That same energy and theatricality is very in line with that kind of idea, but also the unseriousness of it: "Oh, it's just a joke. We're not being serious here.” The irony is then you have Trump always dancing to the “YMCA.” I don't even know how to unpack that one.

CP: I couldn't help but think this is likely one of the final times these performers might sit for a disco documentary. While she doesn't appear in "Disco's Revenge," recently one of Chic's defining vocalists Alfa Anderson died at 78. Did you feel any urgency as you captured these memories?

Majeed: One thing talked about in the film is the devastating impact of AIDS on that whole artistic community. There's already a small pool of people left. And the way disco was tarnished, it's still not treated to the same historical perspective rock ’n’ roll is. There's rock ’n’ roll museums and Hall of Fames, and very little of that in the disco world. (Editor's note: Chic has been nominated 11 times for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame but never chosen for induction. They hold the most nominations of any band.)

CP: While this is a Canadian documentary, you don't spend any time on the homegrown side of disco. There’s no acknowledgment of Montreal’s thriving scene, which is often considered second to New York as the genre's North American centre. Why did you make that choice?

Mishara: This isn’t an exhaustive look at all of the elements. We had to make some tough decisions. The Montreal scene was huge. I don't know if we wanted not to address it, but the genesis was in New York.

Majeed: Docs are strange creatures. We had a certain idea of what we wanted to capture, and people willing to share stories. We did a bunch of interviews in the U.K., but that took us down a (different path). Maybe there will be a chance for us to do a Part Two, or Side B, and go global because all of those (local) scenes were so fascinating.

CP: We’ve been talking about the serious side of disco, but your doc also dives into how silly things became at the crest of its popularity. Broadway star Ethel Merman released a disco album, for instance. One of the most memorable from my childhood was “Mickey Mouse Disco,” a vinyl release that included “Macho Duck” and disco takes on “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah" and "Chim Chim Cher-ee.” Were there any weird disco albums you loved?

Mishara: The first record I ever bought was “Cookie Disco,” (a “Shaft”-inspired song performed by Sesame Street’s Cookie Monster). I loved it, man. I played it over and over. It’s mind-blowing how conceptually weird the ‘70s were. It never ceases to amaze me what different avenues disco had.

— This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

This report by The Canadian Press was first published Jan. 7, 2025.

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