Kool & the Gang - New Jersey Funk Legends | uDiscover Music

About the Song

Kool & The Gang’s “Celebration” is more than just a song; it’s a global anthem of unity and joy. Released in 1980, it quickly became a massive hit, capturing the world’s attention with its infectious rhythm and uplifting message.

The song’s irresistible groove, combined with the group’s signature blend of funk, soul, and disco, creates an irresistible dance floor filler. The lyrics are simple yet powerful, encouraging everyone to come together and celebrate life’s victories. “Celebration” has become synonymous with good times, making it the perfect soundtrack for parties, sporting events, and any occasion that calls for joy.

Beyond its commercial success, “Celebration” has transcended musical genres and generations. It’s a song that unites people from all walks of life, transcending cultural and linguistic barriers. Its enduring popularity is a testament to the song’s universal appeal and its ability to evoke feelings of happiness and optimism.

Kool & The Gang’s “Celebration” is a timeless masterpiece that continues to inspire and unite people around the world. It’s a song that will forever be associated with joy, unity, and the power of music to bring people together.

Celebration' by Kool & the Gang Has a Religious Meaning

Video

Lyrics: Celebration

Yahoo!
Celebration
Yahoo!
This is your celebrationCelebrate good times, come on!
(Let’s celebrate)
Celebrate good times, come on!
(Let’s celebrate)

There’s a party goin’ on right here
A celebration to last throughout the years
So bring your good times and your laughter too
We gonna celebrate your party with you

Come on now, celebration
Let’s all celebrate and have a good time
Celebration
We gonna celebrate and have a good time

It’s time to come together
It’s up to you, what’s your pleasure?
Everyone around the world come on!

Yahoo!
It’s a celebration
Yahoo!

Celebrate good times, come on!
(It’s a celebration)
Celebrate good times, come on!
(Let’s celebrate)

There’s a party goin’ on right here
A dedication to last throughout the years
So bring your good times and your laughter too
We gonna celebrate and party with you

Come on now, celebration
Let’s all celebrate and have a good time, yeah yeah
Celebration
We gonna celebrate and have a good time

It’s time to come together
It’s up to you, what’s your pleasure?
Everyone around the world come on!

Yahoo!
It’s a celebration
Yahoo!
It’s a celebration

Celebrate good times, come on!
(Let’s celebrate come on now)
Celebrate good times, come on!
(Let’s celebrate)

We’re gonna have a good time tonight
Let’s celebrate, it’s all right
We’re gonna have a good time tonight
Let’s celebrate, it’s all right, baby

We’re gonna have a good time tonight
(Celebration)
Let’s celebrate, it’s all right
We’re gonna have a good time tonight
(Celebration)
Let’s celebrate, it’s all right

Yahoo!
Yahoo!

Celebrate good times, come on!
(Let’s celebrate)
Celebrate good times, come on!
(It’s a celebration)

Celebrate good times, come on!
(Let’s celebrate)
(Come on and celebrate tonight)
Celebrate good times, come on!
(‘Cause everything’s gonna be alright, let’s celebrate)

Celebrate good times, come on!
(Let’s celebrate)
Celebrate good times, come on!

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RCA’s doors stayed closed to Dottie West, enough to shake any performer’s confidence in Nashville. Her stints with Starday and Atlantic had left her with little beyond empty pockets and unpaid bills. By 1961, she and her husband, steel guitarist Bill West, were living in a small house in West Nashville. It felt less like a home than a place to make one last, desperate attempt. For years, they had driven back and forth from Cleveland, spending time and money on trips that brought them no closer to getting through the industry’s doors. At that house, Dottie began taking a different approach. Instead of chasing executives, she fed hungry songwriters. Willie Nelson, Roger Miller, and Red Lane started coming over, finding something at her kitchen table that the labels hadn’t offered: someone willing to listen. Auditions gave way to suppers, with Dottie hearing unfinished verses as her guests unpacked their battered guitar cases. If she couldn’t get into the business, she would bring it into her home. Each meal was a deliberate investment in the songwriting Nashville claimed to value but had yet to recognize in her. Things changed the night Jim Reeves heard her song, ‘Is This Me?’ and took it to Chet Atkins. One straightforward exchange over a melody opened a path that had been blocked for years. It wasn’t simply a lucky break. It grew out of her decision to stop asking for a place and create one herself. When she became the first woman to win a country Grammy, the award meant more than recognition. It confirmed that those lean years in the West Nashville house had produced some of the most important work of her life.

Tucked away in a private drawer, far from the polished sets of her television show, lay a bundle of 341 letters. These were not press clippings or scripts; they were brittle, handwritten testimonies from servicemen stationed in remote barracks, deep in war-torn tunnels, and across desolate battlefields. During the long years of the Second World War, as Hollywood presented a glossy, curated image of American life, Donna Reed spent her nights reading these letters and, more remarkably, personally answering them. This was the quiet, invisible work that defined her, long before the public labeled her the quintessential television mother. Behind the camera during her production years, Reed was a different person entirely. She was rarely seen holding a script for a scene; she was more likely to be found hunched over lighting diagrams or studying the intricacies of cinematography. She possessed an uncredited producer’s mind, constantly analyzing how the frame could better reflect the reality of the family she was trying to depict. The studio environment was frequently cold and high-pressured, but she moved through it with a meticulous attention to detail that frustrated those who wanted to treat her as merely another pretty face in the cast. These tactile remnants—the stacks of ink-stained paper and the forgotten notes on camera angles—tell the story of a woman who never truly fit the box Hollywood built for her. While the world remembers the steady, comforting image of a television home, she lived a life carved out of hard labor and deep empathy. She carried the weight of those soldiers’ stories and the technical burdens of the studio floor until her final days, forever balancing the fragility of her public image against the demanding, gritty reality of her actual life.