D.C. Party-Rock Digest No.1: The Dance Party and the Factory
The last time we checked in with the Dance Party—that would be the time the dudes behind Fan Death Records called it a "garbage band"—the sweatband-loving D.C. synthpop group was in L.A. recording its major-label debut. Now via the band's publicist, we learn that that record, TOUCH, is complete, and will drop on Sept. 28 via Hell Ya! Records, a subsidiary of Warner Music Group. The press release says fookyah:
It seems like a common rock and roll cliché for bands to move to Hollywood, party with reckless abandon, and hang out at strip clubs. However, for THE DANCE PARTY, the L.A. party lifestyle seemed like the most obvious next step in their career. While in Hollywood writing and recording TOUCH, the band took over [strip club] Crazy Girls, setting up shop with a naughty monthly residency involving energetic performances, excessive partying, and most importantly, onstage strippers.
While the band's over-the-top live show and song writing may have seemed out of place in Washington, D.C., a city best known for power suits and politics, THE DANCE PARTY fit right in with the drugs, sex, and rock and roll of the Sunset Strip. "In Hollywood, we found a lifestyle that matched the music we wanted to make," says Coogan. "We found muses in the beautiful California girls and inspiration in the excess. Our record is a natural expression of how we live and we're proud of it." The band's series of sold-out shows at Crazy Girls gained instant notoriety, quickly becoming one of the most insane parties in Hollywood.
One imagines, based on the provided press materials, that the Factory occupied a similar, if slightly more metal-tinged, milieu in the late '80s and early '90s. Listen to "Self Submission": Its scuzzy, self-parodying rock is suggestive of the New York Dolls or the Dictators, which is exactly the type of rock music D.C. has never been known for. The group apparently attracted some attention (if not enough) from A&R reps, but disbanded in the early '90s due to frontman Vance Bockis' addiction to heroin (he beat it, but the group stayed kaput). Now Acetate Records is releasing the group's once-lost recordings as a self-titled album, out on Sept. 7. If you're into the kind of band whose fashion sense The Washington Post described in 1998 1988 as...
part Prince prance, part Glimmer glamour, part biker butch and part spaghetti Western
...then, uh, check it out. Me? I've got 45 minutes of Fugazi stage banter I feel like relistening to.