As far as I can tell, the world has yet to produce a book on the 30-year history of hiphop that bothers to mention Blowfly, despite the fact that he's been making rap records since the early '70s. The reason for the omission is most likely that Blowfly's raps are pornographic, crude, and puerile. It's not easy to call a man who gives songs names like, "Shitting on the Dock of the Bay" or "Spermy Night in Georgia" a pioneer of one of the great art forms of the 20th century. Any dissertation on the formative years of rap will happily examine Kurtis Blow's "The Breaks," or Grandmaster Flash's "The Message," but will make every effort to stay clear of Blowfly's groundbreaking "My Baby Keeps Farting in My Face."

The eldest of 18 children, Blowfly was born in rural Georgia in 1945. At the age of 7, he was pulled out of school and forced to work in the fields. In his early teens, he moved to Miami, and in the '60s and early '70s became an established songwriter. He penned several soul classics, the most beloved of which are Betty Wright's "Clean Up Woman," and Gwen McCrae's "Rockin' Chair." His first pornographic LP, Weird World of Blowfly, was released in 1971 (back then rapping was called "soul talking"). Nine years later, almost immediately after "Rapper's Delight" became a big hit, Blowfly officially appeared on the hiphop scene with "Rapp Dirty." In the early '90s he connected with Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and members of Fishbone, and this year he signed to Jello Biafra's Alternative Tentacles label. Blowfly presently lives in Miami, surviving on royalty checks from millionaire rappers who sample his soul and rap materials.

"My daughter, Tracy Reid, was the WNBA Rookie of the Year, and was traded to Miami Sol," says Blowfly, completely out of the blue. Our phone conversation is flying in every direction; I'm hearing the explosion of a man who is crammed with stories from the recent and distant past. "Now, Pat Riley and some of the people in Miami Sol's office were saying to my daughter, 'We understand Clarence Reid is your father?' And Tracy says, 'Yeah.' And they say, 'Why don't we get him to sing the national anthem before a game? That would be good.' And Tracy says, 'Which version do you want him to do? You know my daddy is Clarence Reid, but he's also Blowfly.' And they say, 'Hell no!' But they're still curious to hear the Blowfly version, and my daughter calls me up and says, 'Daddy, do a little bit of the national anthem. As Blowfly,' so I sing, 'Oh, say can see you this big dick that God gave to me/So proudly I fuck like hell, in your twilight that's lifted…'"

Stylistically, Blowfly is no Chuck D; politically, however, they are practically the same. Chuck D attacks the system with the force of a rational discourse; Blowfly does so by saying the most unreasonable and offensive things imaginable. Which is why Blowfly would never be allowed to sing the national anthem; there is no way he could resist the opportunity to a piss on an occasion that is considered by many to be of great importance. On his forthcoming LP, Fahrenheit 69, which is packed with raw funk and soul, the caped and masked Blowfly complains that the rappers of today don't take the time to "tell a bitch how good their pussy is"--but he's not like that, he wants his girl to know how "precious her cunt is." His raps are funny because they make no effort to be anything more than silly.

"Do you know what Deion Sanders, Diana Ross, Natalie Cole, and MC Hammer have in common?" Blowfly asks, again out of the blue. "The religious channel couldn't get their nigga ass over there until they was broke. See, I just tell the truth. I don't give post-game speech; I give pre-game speech. Now, can you imagine Diana Ross saying this: 'Get your piss on me, why don't you baby/get your piss on me, why don't you baby…'" And as our conversation wraps up, no, I certainly can't imagine her saying such a nasty, nasty thing.

charles@thestranger.com