"Dance Floor, Part 1" is a 1982 single by the Dayton, Ohio-based, funk group, Zapp. The song spent two weeks at number one on the R&B in mid-1982, but failed to make the Hot 100. . The single was known for the use of a talk box, which became popular in the 1980s.
An area of uncarpeted floor, typically in a nightclub or restaurant, reserved for dancing
Denoting a recording or type of music particularly popular as an accompaniment to dancing
a bare floor polished for dancing
Dance Floor (foaled 1989 in New Jersey) is a retired American Thoroughbred racehorse. He was bred by William Purdey at his Greenfields Farm in Colts Neck, New Jersey. Out of the mare, Dance Troupe, a granddaughter of U.S.
The capital and chief port of Jamaica; pop. 538,000
a town on the Hudson River in New York
A port in southeastern Canada, on Lake Ontario, at the head of the St. Lawrence River; pop. 56,597
A historic city in southeastern New York, on the Hudson River; pop. 23,095
a town in southeast Ontario on Lake Ontario near the head of the Saint Lawrence River
capital and largest city of Jamaica
Funky Kingston: Reggae Grooves 1968-74
Full title - Reggae Dance Floor Grooves 1968-74. Featuring some of the funkiest sounds laid down in Kingston during the late sixties & early seventies, 'Funky Kingston' highlights a mixture of original & cover versions by some of reggae's greatest musical talents. Among those gettin' it on down on this celebration of Jamaican Funk are such luminaries as Bob Marley, Lee Perry, Toots & The Maytals & Ken Boothe - a varied cast that reflects the far-reaching influence of hard-hitting American r&b on the island's music industry. Issued on both CD & vinyl formats, this collection will have a wide-ranging appeal, attracting reggaephiles & funksters alike. 20 tracks packaged in a slipbox. Trojan. 2002.
Great Gatsby Meets rocksteady over a birthday brunch.
It was of course, really brilliant of me to move in the hottest week of the summer yet, and I've spent much of the last week sweating it up, lost in nostalgia, knee-deep in debris, old notes that friends wrote me in junior high, or in mixtapes pals and crushes have made or endless records I've accumulated or all the countless costumes and thematic outfits I apparently feel the need to buy at every thrift store in every state at every chance I can get. So, inspired by all the summer heat, the music, the random costumes, and a nostalgia for the past---with the addition of my special favorites--friends, delicious food and theme parties....
I am hosting a Jazz and Rocksteady themed summer afternoon transcontinental birthday brunch that will hopefully make stops along the way from New Orleans circa 1943 to Kingston circa 1967, with a mini-visit to a sheesha cafe in Jerusalem aka al Quds-the homeland for a person without a homeland-, circa 1954, both musically and digestively!
The menu is slated to include:
-Peaches and cream
-biscuits and gravy
-red beans and rice
-cucumber mint yoghurt salad
-grilled vegetable medleys
-an assortment of tea and fancy tea cups!
-caribbean fruit cocktails
and we can all get a little summer afternoon toasted on:
-gin and tonics
Thematic attire requested. Great Gatbsy meets rocksteady. It will be great! We can get tipsy and dance about the hardwood floors eating pastries and sultrily rubbing ice cubes on our necks.
Well I quit my job down at the carwash I left my mama a goodbye note
By sundown I'd left Kingston with my guitar under my coat
I hitchhiked all the way down to Memphis got a room at the YMCA
For the next three weeks I went a hauntin' them night clubs
Lookin' for a place to play
Well I thought my pickin' would set 'em on fire
But nobody wanted to hire a guitar man
Well I nearly bout starved to death down in Memphis I run out of money and
So I bummed me a ride down to Macon Georgia on a overloaded poultry truck
I thumbed on down to Panama City started checkin' out some of them all night
Hopin' I can make myself a dollar makin' music on my guitar
Got the same old story at them all night piers
There ain't no room around here for a guitar man we don't need a guitar man
So I slept in the hobo jungles I bummed a thousand miles of track
Till I found myself in Mobile Alabama in a club they call Big Jack's
A little four piece band was jammin' so I took my guitar and I sat in
I showed 'em what a band would sound like
With a swingin' little guitar man show 'em son
So if you ever take a trip down to the ocean find yourself down round
Well make it on out to the club called Jack's if you got a little time to
Just follow that crowd of people you'll wind up out on his dance floor
Diggin' the finest little five piece group up and down the Gulf of Mexico
And guess who's leadin' that five piece band
Why wouldn't you know it's that swingin' little guitar man yeah!