Dropping his penchant for tossing in classic covers, Van McCoy returned to the spotlight after a year-long break with the 100 percent McCoy-penned My Favourite Fantasy in 1978. Unfortunately, no one was listening, and with only the title track -- a snappy, if stale, dance song -- limping onto the charts, it was apparent that McCoy was, in the eyes of most, only considered purveyor of "The Hustle" and ergo, a flavor of the month. That's not to say that My Favourite Fantasy doesn't have its moments -- it does. The opening "That's the Story of My Life" remains an excellent, smooth slab of urban soul. "Two Points," meanwhile, cruises through an eclectic disco groove. And of course, no album would be complete without a handful of ballads -- both "Right Now" and "I Choose Love As My Weapon" fill that gap nicely. A pleasant, if unremarkable, album, My Favourite Fantasy lays bare another set of McCoy's musical ramblings without breaking any new ground. Although there are no real stumbles across the set, it's easy to see in retrospect why the album barely blipped the radar. Smooth and pleasant, McCoy's later material had nothing to do with the disco revolution that was all but impenetrable at the end of the decade. Ousted from that club his material foundered, and the sweet soul that didn't really titillate the mainstream wouldn't usurp his title as one of the kings of disco. ~ Amy Hanson, All Music Guide
Too much, too soon -- those are the only words to describe Van McCoy's second 1975 effort (or third, if you count the 1972 LP that shot into the charts on the heels of his massive, monstrous, genre-defining "The Hustle" single). That said, this rushed set is another slick and highly styled combo of instrumental proto-disco swishes and balladeering. However, coming just six months after Disco Baby topped the charts, the songs here just end up feeling like rehashes, with the title track in particular little more than "The Hustle" in disguise. "Keep on Hustlin'," meanwhile, does just what it implies, and even the funky "Roll With the Punches" is sliced clean through with a "Hustle"-styled chorus. But at the time, moms and dads and clubbers just couldn't get enough of McCoy, and The Disco Kid's Top 20 spot is testament to that. To his credit, McCoy does manage to keep the swings and balances poised with a handful of soulful ballads that focus more on his vocals than on the strings and sighs of America's hottest dance mania. Both "Words Spoken Softly at Midnight" and a cover of "I'm Gonna Love You" are tenderly wrought, proof that even though McCoy may have been cashing in (and who wouldn't), he was still interested in sincerity and was singing for his own enjoyment. ~ Amy Hanson, All Music Guide
Although most people associate Van McCoy with his production work for the likes of Gladys Knight & the Pips and the Stylistics, or for "The Hustle," the 1975 disco hit that spawned a hundred imitators, it's important to remember that McCoy created an enormous body of solo work before his early death from a heart attack in 1979. And his final album, Lonely Dancer, while not perhaps his best-ever work, becomes, in hindsight, a poignant sign-off from this often overlooked and underrated musician. Equally at home with pure-driven disco and sweet, soulful ballads, McCoy divides his time between the two styles across the LP -- and, yes, there is a "Hustle-esque" song included here, as "the Samba" revisits his best-known stomping ground. But that song, in actuality, is one of the album's throwaways; McCoy emerges much stronger across the flashy, grungy disco of the mammoth seven-minute opus "Lonely Dancer," a song that really should have been a hit. Where Lonely Dancer takes its nicest turn, however, is across the tender ballads, which slow the mirror-ball ethics. They may be construed as slightly clichéd, with their overly lush strings and heartfelt backing vocals, but they also spotlight McCoy singing songs you could actually believe HE believed in. "Merry Go Round" is his best example, but McCoy repeats the process across "Decisions" and I Wish You Well," and, with hindsight, one wonders if these songs are autobiographical goodbyes of sorts. The feeling of finality that permeates Lonely Dancer may merely be an imprint of circumstance, but it may not. What is clear is that Van McCoy wasn't just a one-dance man. And this set proves that he shouldn't have been treated as a one-off joke. ~ Amy Hanson, All Music Guide