Fifty Years Of Superfly

Tiggerlion on Super Fly released 11/07/1972

The term ‘blaxploitation’ was coined to describe the controversy over the movie Super Fly. It follows the story of four black cocaine dealers operating in Harlem. Youngblood Priest wants one last big pay-off so he can retire, partner Eddie wants to continue enjoying the lifestyle, mentor Scatter has already gone legit but is asked to take one last risk for his protégé and Fat Freddie is the unfortunate stooge. The film is overflowing with black pushers, pimps, gangsters and macho men. As Ed Guerrero said, “Super Fly came to be the main target of collective fury and the prime example of degenerate black images on film.” Even worse, because it was distributed by Warner Brothers and produced by a white man, Sigissmund Shore, it was assumed to be yet another example of a white corporation exploiting black audiences both financially and culturally. Renée Ward’s verdict was blunt: “Black films, white profits.”

However, Super Fly is a landmark in black film-making. It was made independently with autonomous creative control, only being ‘shopped’ to Warner Brothers after completion. It was written by Phillip Fenty, an advertising executive from Cleveland. The director, Gordon Parks Jr., whose father, Sr., was responsible for Shaft, went to art school in Paris and worked with the documentary film-maker, Pierre Gaisseau. Both men were African-American but neither had lived in a ghetto. Shore may have been white but he actually came from Harlem and had business connections with the black community. He was able to drum up local investors other than himself, including relatively large contributions from two dentists, Connie Jenkins and Ed Allen, and many commitments from small businesses. As a consequence, the financiers could bypass white-dominated Union arrangements and employ an almost entirely black crew. Many technicians and apprentices came from The Third World Cinema Corporation, co-founded in Harlem by Ossie Davies in 1971 to increase opportunities working in film for minority ethnic groups. In addition, the local businesses allowed unlimited access for location shooting and some performed cameos, notably street player KC as a pimp, whose car, a Cadillac Eldorado, steals every scene it is in. Nate Adams ran an employment agency in Harlem. He not only recruited personnel for the film but played a drug dealer and provided the distinctive costumes. Even the subsequent marketing campaign run by Warner Brothers took advantage of local knowledge, screening premieres for barbers, hairdressers, bartenders and street vendors who would spread the word.

Curtis Mayfield was born in Chicago and aged five, when his father left the family, moved in to the notorious Cabrini-Green public housing complex. He witnessed, first hand, the devastating effects of the drug trade. He was one of the first Soul singers to tackle social issues with his group, The Impressions. People Get Ready inspired Bob Marley as far back as 1965. 1968’s We’re A Winner is an unambiguous anthem of black pride. The social consciousness of his solo debut, Curtis, predates Marvin Gaye’s What’s Goin’ On and Stevie Wonder’s Innervisions. Like many Pop Stars of the time, he also indulged in the white powder himself. He was a perfect fit for Superfly (the soundtrack is one word, whereas the film is two, the slang term ‘Fly’ meaning as cool and cunning as a fox).

Mayfield took his responsibilities seriously, staying on set in New York, composing the soundtrack as the film was shot. His sound, characterised by vivacious orchestration, gentle flowing guitar and sweet, keening falsetto vocals, had been honed over many years. Some thought he had copied the dramatic strings from Shaft but he had worked with arranger Johnny Pate since Gypsy Woman in 1961, creating remarkably uncluttered records despite the presence of a complete horn section, myriad percussion and a full orchestra topped off with a harp. All the precedents for the soundtrack can be found in Curtis, especially the hard-hitting We The People Who Are Darker Than Blue and the aspirational Move On Up. He retained many of the same musicians. Master Henry Gibson is responsible for the boinging, echoed congas, Tyrone McCullen the perpetual motion drums, Joseph ‘Lucky’ Scott phat, funky bass and Phil Upchurch and Craig McCullen extra guitars.

Little Child Runnin’ Wild could be autobiographical. It’s a song Mayfield had been working on before the soundtrack assignment. “Broken home, father gone”, a life of abject poverty and zero prospects ahead, abandoned, alone, vulnerable, ripe for exploitation. In a post Martin Luther King America with a newly re-elected Nixon promising to lead a crackdown on law and order, Black Power had failed to make a tangible difference to people’s daily existence. Jobs were still hard to find and economic prospects remained bleak. In fact, in the film, Priest dismisses two of their representatives as being irrelevant to his life. The song offers a painful explanation of how, in an environment of so many limitations, people can get dragged into the vortex. It forms the basis of Eddie’s argument that the drug trade is the only real option open to black people in a world otherwise governed almost entirely by white men.

Pusherman is a remarkable juxtaposition of visual and aural images. As Priest and his crew set about their business, The Curtis Mayfield Experience provide an uproarious, funky backbeat. Cocaine is portrayed as a hip, party drug, a quality product without the addiction and social ruin associated with heroin. Its use is shown as multiracial but, mostly, we see black dealers supplying white people. Priest is presented as a stylish, accomplished entrepreneur who penetrates white markets, creates jobs and appears to be above the law. He enjoys all the spoils of black success: money, cars, clothes and a white mistress. Mayfield’s lyric adds further insight. If you let the pusherman in, he won’t just become the most important person in your life, he will become your mother, father, doctor, friend, to the exclusion of everyone else.

Freddie’s Dead is a straightforward, brutal, cautionary tale. The film is explicit and Mayfield abandons any hint of subtlety. A man who means well ends up doing bad things and having worse done to him. The message is clear in both art forms; become a drug dealer and this could happen to you. It’s a song of despair but was catchy and powerful enough to ride high in the singles charts, the biggest hit from the soundtrack. Side one of the vinyl LP concludes with Junkie Chase, an instrumental that does exactly what it says on the tin. Breathless and exciting, the horns, keyboards and strings ramp up the tension. A triumph for Johnny Pate.

Give Me Your Love is the strangest song here, one that successfully soundtracks the most revolutionary scene in the movie. Black skin on black skin love scenes were unheard of in main stream cinema, but here is the hero with his ‘squeeze’ having sex in a bubble bath. Mayfield, somewhat oddly, sings from the woman’s point of view, a position of absolute submission. The problem is that it draws attention to the fact that women are usually bystanders in blaxploitation movies, used merely as plot devices or decoration to emphasise the virility and status of the men. However, Georgia is the only person to support Priest from the very beginning right through to the end and she plays a crucial role in the outcome.

The admonishment in Eddie You Should Know Better is delivered with exasperation, sorrow, lush strings and wailing wah-wah. Eddie’s behaviour is to be expected in context. It’s a beautiful song with a hard message, delivered as a lament. Eddie is the character who embraces the lifestyle with greatest enthusiasm and is the one most changed by his experience.

No Thing On Me (Cocaine Song) is probably the most misunderstood and overlooked song on the album. David Mills described it as a moment of “triumphant optimism” but most other critics say it is cheesy. Heard just after Scatter has made up his mind to help Priest, the song celebrates individual freedom and self-determination, bolstered by fluttering strings, an uplifting piano break and some wonderful saxophone, a release from centuries of oppression. “The man got no thing on me.” The problem is, of course, that he is only his own boss in an illegal drug business, a freedom that comes with strings attached so powerful they could be chains.

Think is a poignant instrumental that both haunts and calms. The guitar sets the scene, a black man with his back against a wall. The soprano sax leads the melody as he gathers his wits, a quiet before a stormy shakedown. The grand finale, played over the credits, is the jubilant title track. The band are at their slinkiest and super cool, equalling the thrill of Move On Up. The lyric emulates Shaft in that it is a long litany of praise for a maverick outsider, the difference being that Mayfield stays true to the socio-political themes throughout the film and album. It is still a song about hustling, poverty, surviving, suffering and being black. The stakes are high, it’s “Do or die, tryin’ to get over”.

Super Fly resonated with a black audience that was impressed with the authenticity, in love with the music and wowed by one of their own gettin’ one over. There was a receptive white audience, too. The last third is particularly exhilarating from Scatter’s moment of hope through to the swaggering ending. In between, Priest makes a speech of defiance to The Man, a corrupt white cop played by Shore himself; “You don’t own me, pig.” It had the audience leaping from their seats to cheer.

The notion that the music is a counter-commentary to the film, more critical of the protagonists’ involvement in illegal activity, originates from its own publicity material. Mayfield was vocal about his misgivings but was supportive of the plot and its resolution. The film is unflinching in its depiction of the dire consequences of involvement with illegal drugs. Mayfield’s music is honest, eloquent and dignified. It more than matches the images and action, it enhances it, including all the tension and despair. Superfly is an exceptional example of a soundtrack that works equally well in the cinema and on the radio.

The upfront costs were $500,000. Add in distribution and marketing and the total cost was $2.5 million. It grossed $30 million. Shore had the biggest cut but all the Harlem investors made good money. Even the lead actor, Ron O’Neal, had a ten percent share. The biggest winner, however, was Curtis Mayfield. As far back as 1963, he’d had the good business sense to set up his own publishing company and record label, Curtom. He owned all the rights to his own music. The album and its singles out-performed and out-lasted the movie. The highest grossing film of 1972, by far, is The Godfather, which also tells the story of an ethnic minority involved in criminal activity. For some reason, it won far more prestigious awards but its soundtrack, as evocative as it is, is no match for Superfly in sales.

Although it came after Isaac Hayes’ Shaft and Melvin Van Peebles’ Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song, Superfly was seen as a wellspring for a flood of Soul soundtracks: Bobby Womack Across 110th Street, Willie Hutch The Mack, Marvin Gaye Troubleman, James Brown Black Caesar, Edwin Starr Hell Up In Harlem. However, its real legacy, music-wise, is socially conscious Soul and, later, Rap, while Gangsta owes a lot to the attitudes expressed on screen. In addition, black musicians paid attention to the flow of money and how those who maintained ownership of their art, like Mayfield, were able to maximise their earnings. Look at Jay-Z and Beyoncé today.

However, Mayfield’s creative control did go a little too far, resulting in a sour note with regard to the credits. On the cover, it says the music is “Written and performed by Curtis Mayfield” as though the band did not exist. Pate didn’t take kindly to “Successfully arranged and orchestrated from the original dictations of Curtis Mayfield by Johnny Pate.” He felt his contribution was so far from being dictated that he claimed a co-writing credit for the two instrumentals. Mayfield refused.

Superfly remains a rewarding listen many years on. The struggle it describes to succeed in an environment loaded against black people remains a constant today. The contrasts of human frailty and resilience and the context in which the characters make their moral choices are universal and have rarely been confronted so directly. Historically, it’s difficult to imagine an album that has had such an impact in the real world, although it’s dispiriting how little has really changed for Black America since 1972. Every track has purpose and meaning, even the two instrumentals, the love song and the song of naive hope. The album waxes and wanes as it tells the story but its peaks are very, very high and its troughs are not much lower. If it had been released in the eighties, there would have been at least four singles, not just two, and they would all have lit up the airwaves. Superfly is one of the most important albums of the last half century. It’s unquestionably Curtis Mayfield’s masterpiece and remains the finest soundtrack album by a single artist in the whole of popular music, including Purple Rain and Parade.

Most of the information about the movie is to be found in Eithne Quinn, “Tryin’ To Get Over”: Super Fly, Black Politics, and Post-Civil Rights Film Enterprise,” Cinema Journal 49, no. 2 (2010): 86-105

https://docest.com/black-entrepreneurialism-and-self-determination-in-super-fly

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