Why We Can't Have Nice Things In Memphis

WARNING: A large amount of profanity will be in this post. If profanity offends you, turn back now.

Memphians, I'm calling you out. I live in this motherfucking city where people get some of the best music and musicians in the world. People want to come here. I mean, Memphis has been a bastion of popular music for over half a century. Some of the greatest music ever made came out of the delta, and the independent music movement was never more vital than it was in this city. All the more reason for people to have been at the Hi-Tone last night to see Blowfly, master of the XXX rated party record, credited by many as the original rapper (with his 1965 "Rap Dirty" record), one of the baddest motherfuckers that ever walked on a stage or played on a record.

In this week's Memphis Flyer, you can see a full-page article about Blowfly and what his genius means (thanks to Andrew Earles). For years, Blowfly has toured and played his brand of funky, dirty, filthy, comedic soul music for audiences the world over. He's sold thousands of records. He is flanked only by Dolemite himself (aka Rudy Ray Moore) as being one of the kings of the 70's party record scene. As Clarence Reid, the man behind the mask, he has written songs for dozens of musicians including K.C. and the Sunshine Band, Gwen McRae, Betty Wright, and Sam and Dave.

Which makes it hard to understand why a paltry 25 people showed up last night at the Hi-Tone to give Blowfly a big Memphis welcome.

Now, I could understand if it was just last night's show that I was calling out. But I'm calling out Memphis and Memphians in general for not supporting the club circuit because it's not just last night. It's been many, many nights this year. When good shows come through town, people look at the crowd and think, "This is what I drove out of my way for? To play for 20 people?" Blowfly didn't have to come to Memphis, he wanted to be here. Tim Easton, whom I was pleased & honored to play with on Wednesday, suffered the same fate.

Memphis audiences continue to go see the same six or seven bands/artists all the time, yet all I ever hear is people complaining that "no good bands ever come here". Can you blame them? When something good actually comes, the Memphis crew doesn't show up. You have some excuse, some reason you can't be there, something more important to do. If it were one time, I could probably understand that. But every time? There's no excuse here. Off the top of my head, I can remember Communique from New York playing to a measly 20 people at Young Avenue Deli, and an equally unimpressive number for VHS or Beta last November.

Blowfly put on a show that blew down the house, that tore a new asshole to every motherfucker that walked in that door last night. He let the dirty, filthy, triple-x rated party glory that is his marker to the world fly across and hit every audience member square between the eyes. Everyone laughed and shouted and danced their asses off, all 25 of us.

But did you see it? Probably not. You had to wash your hair last night. You had to get up early and do nothing tomorrow. You had to stay home and wait for the dope man. Or my favorite excuse from last night, "I didn't go because I already figured a ton of people would be there."

I love Memphis and I love my Memphis people. But I do not love it when so many of you bitch and moan and complain about good shows not coming here, and you can't even be bothered to make an appearance when the good ones do.

I want to present a picture to the world outside our fair city that we are supportive of musicians and artists. I have busted my ass to get artists to come here who otherwise would care less about coming to town, and I know other people who promote music have done the same. But how long do you expect us to have to lie to all these people before the rest of you start making what I'm telling them at least SEEM true?

The joke isn't funny anymore. And anyways, it's your fucking loss that you missed the full Blowfly outfit, complete with sequined mask, cape, and suit. It's your fucking fault that he sang every hit he had with all his heart backed up by his smoking band. It's your fucking fault that he walked out of this town, this man who SELLS OUT THE SHOW when he plays any major city in the United States, with enough money for gas to get to the next gig.

So please. Don't ask me anymore why no good music comes to Memphis. Don't talk to me about what you're gonna do and how you're gonna do it. You just keep on singing that same shitty fucking tune in your head and telling yourself how cool you are for singing it.

When the good stuff stops coming, Memphis, you'll have only yourselves to blame.