The woman who, as a teenager, made me think I preferred blondes, which I don't. I still think, however, that disco and punk are two sides of the same coin: the dance coin used to buy us out of lame, pretentious 20-minute guitar solos and white boys shaking their long hair. Put on some hairspray, a mohawk, your disco suit, or a mirror ball, but dance baby, dance. Tonight, in Lisbon.

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