The opening ceremonies at last year's Shit-Talkers Hall of Fame (in scenic Peoria, Illinois) were pretty good: Richard Pryor got Lifetime Achievement, Redd Foxx emceed and Blowfly got Album of the Year for his Best Of: Analthology, and although Rudy Ray Moore pitched some shit, most fuckers assembled cheerfully agreed Blowfly has earned that shit and more.
If you like this story, consider signing up for our email newsletters.
SHOW ME HOW
You have successfully signed up for your selected newsletter(s) - please keep an eye on your mailbox, we're movin' in!
Before he was the cussin'-est old soul man still lucid enough to drive himself to the recording session, Blowfly was Clarence Reid, one of the songwriters at Miami's TK/Glades records, which set up such funky deep-southern artists as Timmy Thomas and Gwen and George McRae (all since heavily sampled) before hitting it obscenely huge with KC & the Sunshine Band. Somewhere in there, Blowfly—who legendarily earned his name when Granny Reid caught him cursing in the cabbage patch—got the idea to be hugely obscene himself, and WeirdWorldofBlowflywas recorded after-hours and released—with too-hot-for-TK tunes such as "Shitting on the Dock of the Bay" and "Spermy Night in Georgia"—on Reid's own shadow label, Weird World, in 1970. This set off a 30-plus-year career of dirty (in both senses) funk and put Blowfly shoulder to shoulder with such dudes as Rudy Ray, which may have given Reid—who was a teetotaling Christian underneath all the foul-mouthing—some serious inner conflict to consider once the money started coming in.
But now with R. Kelly living the life Blowfly only sings about in his songs—"Girl, lemme toss your salad!" is just the radio edit of Blowfly's "Hole Man"—it's a real ripe time for rediscovery, and Blowfly's upcoming summer release, Fahrenheit 69, is an orgy of up-to-date collaboration: Afroman ("Condoleezza, honey, give Cheney some brain-y and bring the campaign money!"), Slug, Gravy Train!!!! (who probably embarrassed poor old Mr. Reid, because Gravy Train!!!! really do get drunk-ass-naked blowjobs on people's parents' lawns), and more yet to be disrobed at press time. Fahrenheitdoesn't pile much extra onto the established Blowfly sound—the only way to tell if the track is from '85 or '05 is by counting the pixels on the disco drums—but then why would he? There are only seven notes in the key of Blowfly: shit, piss, cocksucker, motherfucker, asshole, pussy, bitch!
ALSO:GUILTYCONNECTORANDLETHALFIRETRAP:"Japanoise" is a fun way to say "Hurts my little ears!" in very hip company, or it's a fun way to get low-frequency sound thundering through your bowels like a flock of bats through Carlsbad, and, of course, it's the accepted way to explain experimental music from, say, Tokyo, when it shows up in America. Guilty Connector has 15 years' experience dismantling traditional song forms (with help from the homemade instruments of buddies Bastard Noise), and Lethal Firetrap only started last year, but noise is a generous genre, and together, they will seriously chip the edges off your brain.
BLOWFLY WITH THE BOLIDES AND DJ DENNIS OWENS AT ALEX'S BAR, 2913 E. ANAHEIM ST., LONG BEACH, (562) 434-8292; WWW.ALEXSBAR.COM. FRI., 9 P.M. $8. 21+; GUILTY CONNECTOR WITH BASTARD NOISE AND LETHAL FIRETRAP PLUS XOME, GERRITT AND SPASTIC COLON AT QUE SERA, 1923 E. SEVENTH ST., LONG BEACH, (562) 599-6170; WWW.THEQUESERA.COM. MON., 8:30 P.M. $7. 21+.