A nighttime explosion for kids who had no war, the flash of the black light strobe in a vacuum of darkness, started the heart and seared the nearest image into the cortex. No one ever dancing, or even just moving in such an environment will ever forget it.

The sentiment was difficult to comfortably convey to the older guys, who had been to Viet Nam or even Korea, who had seen actual bombs bursting, filling the night with horrible light, but it was all they had, these club kids of the 80’s, to stir the spirit, with Cold War as it was, stagnated into intransigence. Besides, reveling in the momentarily controlled chaos of an out of control dance floor was infinitely better than charging the enemy’s lines. That was something everyone agreed upon.

The staccato animation of dancers within a space that is filled with darkness and music, and every other second, light would prove to be, over that short period, an enticement and a unifying dynamic. It would be only a short time before all of this was gone; and, broken apart as if in a strobe, the movement lost its continuity.

-Danny Grosso