Into the Cosmic Disco
Lonnie Liston Smith's Exotic Mysteries
Lonnie Liston Smith came up through the jazz fusion scene of the 1960s and ‘70s (as well as doing stints with Pharoah Sanders, backing singer Betty Carter, and playing briefly with both Miles Davis and Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers ensemble) and made a name for himself with a style of music I’d describe by quoting David Bowie: hazy cosmic jive. Jazz, funk, psychedelia, with lyrics about cosmic awareness and brotherhood and consciousness-expanding new age magic. In the latter half of the 1970s, he drifted seamlessly into the world of space-disco groove (see also: Dexter Wansel, and some of Earth Wind and Fire’s more sci-fi adventures). We’ll explore his more out-there releases in subsequent sessions, but for now, we’re sliding on our white flares, wide collars, and astrological symbol medallions to explore his 1978 release, Exotic Mysteries.
If you were in Japan, you might call Exotic Mysteries city pop or AOR (album-oriented rock). In 1976, Howard University student DJs Melvin Lindsey and 10 October 9 (or 2) Download started a late-night program of smooth jazz and laid-back soul that was titled “Quiet Storm.” The name of the show soon became the name of a genre, if a somewhat nebulously defined one (as most musical styles and genres tend to be). If you ever wondered how the raucous, suggestive R&B of the Winonie Harris days became the smooth, still suggestive R&B of artists like Luthor Vandross and Barry White (or the even smoother sounds of ‘90s R&B), quiet storm isn’t, of course, where it started—but it is sort of where it all came to fruition.
Despite being a style defined by its easygoing attitude and lack of aggression, it wasn’t without controversy, specifically because of that. Jazz had undergone a radical transformation in a fairly short amount of time, with the sounds of post-bop and cool jazz giving way to the avant-garde, then to soul-jazz and funk fusion, often (but not always) serving as a home for radical poetry and Black power/Black beauty messaging in a time when any sort of call for respect was by its very nature a political act. Hell, Blue Note Records took guff for putting Black people on the covers of albums made by Black people. In the later 1960s, as jazz mixed with psychedelia and acid rock, we got some pretty trippy releases that wrapped civil rights and the Black pride movements in a psychedelic haze, often invoking dreams of space and cosmic consciousness (but in a far less discordant style than someone like Sun Ra). Lonnie Liston Smith, with his group the Cosmic Echoes, made a name for themselves in this niche.
In the 1970s, however, the music moved away from themes of Black awareness and cosmic unity and toward more middle-of-the-road sounds and lyrics reflective of disco and what was the desire to express joy and pleasure after decades of war and social and political turmoil. Not everyone was happy to see Black music shed its political awareness (in much the same way as would happen with hip hop), but new styles stoked the social awareness fires in the underground while the mainstream went dancing. From a retrospective vantage point, it’s easier to be cool with the multiple styles co-existing more peacefully than they may have during the original transition.
Personally, and I get that this may be a bit precious, I find that the more apolitical music of the disco era can itself be a form of political statement. After all, Black America is more than the suffering that has been heaped upon them, and everyone deserves moments in which struggle takes a back seat to simply having a good time. Exotic Mysteries and other quiet storm hallmarks move the Black experience and urban life away from the bleak grittiness of the 1970s and toward the more aspirational glamor that would become the calling card of the 1980s. If it’s not quite the science fiction of some of his earlier work, it’s certainly still a dreamy sort of escapism that embraces Black pleasure over pain—at least for the 40-odd minutes the album lasts.
By 1978, Smith had returned from his cosmic journey to the more earthly delights of Exotic Mysteries. That said, it was still an era when a swinging sort of futurism infused a lot of disco and funk music, so Smith hasn’t entirely stopped gazing into the universal beyond, as song titles such as “Space Princess” attest to. However, the sound is much less psychedelic, and while his albums from earlier in the decade were plenty danceable, it would have been that wavy-hand sort of dancing rather than whatever dance was popular in the disco. It’s not even entirely classifiable as “space disco,” although it certainly wouldn’t be out of place on a playlist. It’s very much the glossy smooth groove of neon lights and city pop, of pastel pinks and greens, of peaceful night drives or intimate nights in. Silk sheets and platform shoes—not necessarily at the same time, but also…maybe at the same time.
The opening track, “Space Princess,” is the album at its most rambunctious, with energetic percussion, a wailing guitar, and a much peppier pace than typifies most of the tracks. It’s Exotic Mysteries’ dancefloor jam (and was, in fact, the album’s biggest hit) and the perfect song to kick off a wild night. “Mystical Dreamer” is his tribute to Miles Davis, and underneath the moody synths and tinkling organ is a definite strain of old-fashioned cool jazz. It’s smoking a cigarette while staring out of a panoramic window in your penthouse overlooking the city at night while a lover slinks up behind you, draped in one of those silk sheets we mentioned earlier, and wraps their arm around you. If you don’t smoke, it’s OK. This is a sensual dream, and the cigarette is metaphorical. “Quiet Moments” also flies its cool jazz flag, a perfect accompaniment for cocktails after midnight or tasteful, graceful lovemaking.
If you are a fan of Lonnie Liston Smith’s more outré grooves about peace and cosmic brotherhood, the shift from those to this much poppier, less dreamy slice of disco could be jarring. He’s finished his astral journey around the universe and ended up at that space disco from the pilot episode of 1978’s Battlestar Galactica. Like that episode’s signature disco tune “It’s Love, Love, Love” by the Space Angels, I find Exotic Mysteries to be pretty good. It is, for me, a vibe more than it is a series of distinct songs. It’s not dismissable as mere “background music,” but certainly it’s most effective and more enjoyable as a sexy, highly-polished mood-setter.