Get the hearse warmed up, there's one more for the bone yard...
I first became aware of Moore sometime in the mid 1990's. Then - like now, I was going through a bout of unemployment. In that loafing time I was fortunate to have free time and access to a VCR through a then associate.
Kim's Video had just opened a branch at the former site of the Saint Mark's Baths. The 3rd floor of that former Bacchanal indoor pool was given to video rentals. At this point of the 1990's the gates of obscuria were creaking open. I often equate this to convergence of two events; CD production was becoming cheep, and almost everyone had a computer. Information was beginning to be freely shared. As so often when ancient knowledge is played with there are some down sides - fungoid entities with indefinite body shape are invoked resulting in their attempting to reclaim the Earth, or diseases that normally would only cause blindness in lampreys is modified to attack foreign peoples, such malfeasance is tempting.
It was in this proverbial Library of Alexandria that while paroozing through the Blaxploitation video isle loaded with titles I had only heard of, my eyes came upon one that made my mind stop in it's paces; "The Human Tornado".Pulling out the box I had no reason to read the blurb on the back. The grainy photocopied cover with passable artwork was all I needed to know. There depicted was a stiffly drawn middle aged black man his fist caught in mid air swing, bad guys and their cars strewn in the air, buildings breaking apart, my eyes were on fire! It then dawned on me...this was the often spoken with absolute reverie...Dolemite...
I immediately paid the rental fee and brought it back to my then associate Mrs. D. We sat in jaw dropping awe as Dolemite Kunk-Fu'd in his tacky polyester pants, read dialog as if he just learned it that morning, destroying all logic going from scripted sentence to rap, and had no shame in exposing his person naked while in bed with a woman half his age. This one love making scene brings the roof down...literally...along with the walls and the floor.
This was heaven - true Mrs. D and I had seen Soul Cinema before, but there was nothing like this. Adding to that what were the odds that this was playing anywhere outside of Newark or Watts.
About the time of this discovery, Moore seemed to be having a career revival. There were small roles in low budget movies, ie: Bapps, and a return to live dates on the East Coast. By then when he was remembered there was the usual lip service that he was the God Father of rap. Absolute hogwash...Moore's humor while at it's base is blue, concurrently it was free of meanspiritedness, something that raps practitioners are proud of.
On one of Moores east coast dates he plaid Maxwells in Hoboken. How could I not go? As often the case seeing a legend coming out of retirement one is shocked as to how old the famous become. And there he was, on Maxwells small stage performing like someone's dirty
Grandfather, admitting to his age (or at least around it), still sharp as in youth. Every raunchy line intact - no doddering around, no fumbling. Best of all he eschewed the urge to update his act. Jokes had clear beginning's, middles, and ends. It was all Borscht Belt via the Chitin' Circuit. Like so many other smaller performers he had a merchandise table set up. Besides posters and CD's there was the Official Rudy Ray Moore Back Scratcher, with extra reach...for your nuts...The second time I had seen him was at the Lakeside Lounge, located on the Lower East Side - and regretfully in the year or so from the Maxwells gig the ever insatiable hipsters had elected him the must know of the moment. There was little if any give and take with the audience. Buy now he was regarded as an animatronic museum piece. His performance was still as sharp as before, but the crowd wanted the wild man of the 70's movies, and when presented with Moore sans Kung Fu and multiple camera shots, lost interest. There was a intermission leading to a second set, and growing weary of the room I elected to just catch him the next time he came to town. I don't believe he ever played here again...
So Rudy, as you leave this sometimes humorless mortal coil and travel stellar I bid you farewell. Confident that you will suffer no "Rat soup eating Motherfuckers" anymore.
Please click on the obituary title for selected track: The party goes on, part 2 - Crack me some nuts / Grow by the minute
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