Monday in Corporate Hell (Part 1)

I accomplished absolutely buckus this weekend workout-wise.  On Friday after my failed tempo run (click HERE), my 40k “easy ride” later with a local riding buddy became more of a painful slog along the Niagara Parkway where it should have been super easy.  Except it wasn’t.  I took that as a sign that despite having nearly a week off not too long ago that maybe I had pushed a bit too hard this past week in getting back into the “plan”.  Of course, it was stupid hot on Saturday, then rained on Sunday and, really, these are just excuses. The truth is, I didn’t feel like doing anything…so I didn’t.

I’m aiming to get back on the bike this evening but as for right now, I’m still trapped at Ground Zero here in Corporate Hell and trying to make the best of it until I break free and hit the open roads of Stevensville and Port Colborne.  To make this time more bearable, I’m tapping into some “Blacksploitation” with the ‘Dolomite‘  soundtrack by Rudy Ray Moore.

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“Dolemite is my name…and fucking up muthafucka’s is my game!”

Best.  Movie quote.  Ever.

Who’s the baddest motherfucker to blow onto blaxploitation screens?  Forget that pussy Shaft and just ask the Rudy Ray Moore, the “Godfather of Rap”.  He gave you the gospel of street hustler, pimp, and all-around ghetto superhero Dolemite.  Without a doubt one of the best known and most enduring of all blaxploitation films and scores, Dolemite’s legendary story and music helped define a film genre, the music of an entire decade, and give birth to a new sound that would change the face of music forever in its’ wake.

The soundtrack is a wicked blend of guitar-funk bombs, film score, smooth soul, and Dolemite’s crucial statement of intent. This soundtrack’s raw genius helped pave the way for countless gritty, street-level funk soundtracks to follow.

But who was this Rude Ray Moore, cat?

Well, Moore was ultimately an American comedian, musician, singer, film actor, and film producer perhaps best known as Dolemite (the name derived from the mineral dolomite), the uniquely articulate pimp from the 1975 film ‘Dolemite’ (this album, click HERE), and its sequels, ‘The Human Tornado’  and ‘The Return of Dolemite’.

By his own account, he was working at a record store in Hollywood in 1970 when he began hearing obscene stories of “Dolemite” recounted by a local man named Rico. Moore began recording the stories, and assumed the role of Dolemite in his club act and on recordings.  In 1970–71 he recorded three albums of material, ‘Eat Out More Often’, ‘This Pussy Belongs To Me’, and ‘The Dirty Dozens’, where “with jazz and R&B musicians playing in the background, [Moore] would recite raunchy, sexually explicit rhymes that often had to do with pimps, prostitutes, players, and hustlers” ,  of which, this album is abundant.

The film adaptation of this stage persona centers on a pimp who is serving 20 years in prison after being set up by a rival, Willie Green. One day, his friend and fellow pimp Queen B helps him get out of jail, and plots with him to get revenge on Green.

Craziness – obviously – ensues.

Fortunately, so does the funky music.  And while this soundtrack is often not mentioned in the same breath as other classics of the genre (think James, Isaac, Curtis, et al.), it has quite a bit in common with the others – the same uptempo funk instrumentals, soul ballads, and a loud ‘n’ proud theme and/or title track.  Quite a few of the tracks are instrumental, including the Sly Stone-esque funk bass workout ‘The Rumble‘  and the organ-led ‘Ghetto Expressions‘, as well as the uptempo title track (featuring vocals by Ben Taylor) and the expected mellow ballad (featuring Mary Love). One of the lost soundtracks of the ’70s, the ‘Dolemite‘  soundtrack is sure to appeal to admirers of Pimps, Players, & Private Eyes alike.

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About crazytigerrabbitman

I am a fat guy and always will be in the same way they say that “once an alcoholic; always an alcoholic”. Eventually I got upset about my poor health and ballooning body frame so I decided to change things for the better. Some people sign up for Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, or whatever fad diet program it is that happens to be occupying the majority of air time on the boob tube. Other people prefer to run out and purchase the latest, fold away, piece of shit being hawked by some celebrity has-been. Me? I decided to take up triathlon. I had abused my body over the years with bacon cheeseburgers, pints of beer and double-dipped donuts, and the time had now come to abuse my body with physical exertion, perseverance and hard work instead; penitence in it's purest form. The time had come to kick my ass. I am Terry Nash and I am the “fat and the furious”.
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