The Spin

An obscenely good time

Attention, Buddy Killen: Blowfly says hello. The original Ol' Dirty Bastard was in town last Friday for a funked-up in-store at Grimey's and a show at The End. It was a rare Nashville appearance for the world's filthiest rapper, but not for his alter ego, veteran R&B producer/performer Clarence Reid, who reminisced briefly about his many visits to Music City in the 1960s and '70s. Signing records in a wrestling mask and spangled superhero tights, Reid spoke fondly of Killen, whom he met through soul man Joe Tex; he eventually recorded R&B singles for Killen's Dial Records, onetime home of Jean Knight and Clarence "Frogman" Henry.

Blowfly's mind, though, was more on his nasty current material—including his bold new political statement Fahrenheit 69. (The cover shows his lightning-bolt dick blasting a hole in the Capitol dome.) The king of '70s "party records" strode through Grimey's with a wrestler's strut, flexing his 6-inch middle fingers, then tossed the mic from hand to hand as he laid waste to good taste. Launching his "Blowfly for President" platform, he promised to put an end to terrorism in the Middle East by sending America's hottest honeys to bang Osama bin Laden cross-eyed. (Hey, it beats getting screwed by the current administration.) He singled out Sylvia Giannitrapani in the crowd, so it just might work. The Superman of syncopated smut stopped soon after, but not before convulsing the crowd with his backhanded (or back-sided) Otis Redding tribute, "Shittin' Off the Dock of the Bay." Then it was off to The End, where the turnout dwarfed the surprisingly cool reception he got the previous night in Memphis. The only thing missing was a requested posse of big-boned babes to dance onstage to his anthem "Too Fat to Fuck," so dammit, the audience just had to settle for the skinny shimmy of smokin'-hot Julie Nastri. Vote Blowfly, and vote often!

Too much pain to Bare (Jr.)

While many artists have parties to tout their latest compact disc, Bobby Bare Jr.'s Young Criminals' Starvation League's performance last Thursday was more a tribute to a compacted disc—Bare has been having severe back and neck problems, and showed up at the Mercy Lounge in a neck brace. In fact, he dubbed the evening "The Bobby Bare Jr. Spinal Surgery Benefit." Centro-Matic's Will Johnson opened the show with a strong solo set that featured some intriguing on-the-spot looping and enough da-da-das to make Van Morrison proud. Bare shed the neck brace for his set, which was more like a house party, with various local luminaries like Mike Grimes, David Steele, Tom Pappas (Superdrag) and Carey Kotsionis jumping on- and off- stage at will, grabbing and swapping instruments, banging tambourines, singing background vocals and jumping around like school kids at recess. Clearly the painkillers set in after a few tunes, because Bare started whipping his head around with abandon, prompting a few audience members to cringe in horror, fearing the damage he might be doing to his already compromised spine. Everyone played well and the free-for-alls were a treat, but the tunes featuring just the core trio (Bare, drummer Brian Kotzur and Lambchop's Deanna Varagona on baritone sax, bass and tambourine) were particularly entertaining, with playful dynamic and tempo changes that reflect Bare's screw-the-rules approach to songwriting. (Varagona's horn work was featured quite prominently to the crowd's obvious delight.) The devil-may-care vibe was a refreshing break from the self-importance and seriousness of so many local bands and songwriters. Here's hoping Bobby could still walk the next morning.

Dispatches from the concert stages

♦ Weezer have gotten a lot of crap lately for their mediocre performances and even more mediocre album Make Believe. Their previous Nashville appearance was kind of a dud, but last Thursday at Municipal Auditorium they pulled themselves together and put on what turned out to be almost a greatest hits show, with more songs off of Pinkerton and Weezer than anything else. Their fan base remains mostly 15-year-olds in braces, no matter how long the band has been around. Weezer had a hard act to follow, too, since almost half the crowd came to see Ben Folds, who played upbeat numbers and did everything in his power to make the white boys dance, from standing on his piano and hosting a sing-along, to a heartfelt rendition of his first Songs for Silverman B-side, "Bitches Ain't Shit," about which he claimed, "I co-wrote this with Dr. Dre. He doesn't know it, though, cause he doesn't know who I am." (Were it true, it would surely be the only Dr. Dre song this Abercrombie crowd would ever hear live.) Denver pop-rock band The Fray opened the night. Their first album, How to Save a Life, isn't even out yet (it's set for a September release), but their catchy, melody-driven songs sounded like future radio hits and got the crowd's attention. All in all, it was a good show, even if Weezer made 15 fans with backstage passes wait almost an hour before sending a security guard to announce that the band had cancelled their meet-and-greet after-party because they were "hot and tired." Is it so hard to shake 15 hands, pose for a picture with a female fan so nervous she's crying, and say thanks for the support? Apparently.