I last saw this American treasure at Quad Cinema in 2011, when he made an appearance promoting the release of his documentary, The Weird World of Blowfly. It’s now on Netflix, and you should give it a watch.
RUSTY TROMBONE FULL
Full disclosure: I threw in a few bucks, and I also own a Blowfly bobblehead. (Vice’s illustrated tribute, on the other hand, is just what you’d expect.)īlowfly fans can take solace that an online fundraiser for a “dignified burial and funeral” just surpassed its goal of $14,000.
RUSTY TROMBONE UPDATE
(Did an editor decide to look it up on Urban Dictionary? We’ve reached out to Times PR and the obit’s author for an explanation and will update this if we hear back.) Needless to say, titles like “Electronic Pussy Sucker” were cleaned up by NPR, as well. Sadly, the victory was short-lived, for the term was excised without explanation and once again appears nowhere in the Times archive.
If Blackstar was Bowie’s parting gift to us, perhaps Blowfly’s final coup was to slip “rusty trombone” into The New York Times.
Neither its title nor those of about half of its songs are suitable for printing in this newspaper. About half the song titles are not printable in this newspaper.īut wait, what’s this? Some time after the obit’s publication three days ago, that last line changed to this (emphasis ours):Ī final album is scheduled for release next month. Which is why we weren’t surprised to learn, from the Times, the title of his forthcoming album.Ī final album, “77 Rusty Trombones,” is scheduled for release next month. Hell, some of Blowfly’s caped costumes made Sun Ra look normcore.īlowfly’s breakthrough early-’70s album, The Weird World of Blowfly, consisted of covers such as “Shitting On The Dock Of The Bay,” in which he crooned about “watching my great big turds float away.” Basically, what Weird Al is to food, Blowfly was to sex and bodily functions. If that sounds like your cup of tea, what. The rusty trombone is where analingus is performed at the same time as a hand job. His puerile parodies of soul, disco, punk, and rap songs may not have been as universally loved and lauded as Bowie’s tunes, but it’s safe to say the masked musician’s stage get-up was just as out there as Ziggy’s. Forget the 69 - the 68 is the steamy new sex position you need to try. Reid, of course, is the other musical genius we lost to liver cancer this month. We never thought the Original Dirty Rapper would meet the Old Gray Lady, but there it is: a proper Times obituary for Clarence Reid, the singer-songwriter better known as Blowfly.
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