Grant JonesRecord stores, or more specifically, international conglomerates like HMV, Virgin Megastore and Tower Records may now be a concern of the past, but while there are umpteen reasons why that’s a bad thing, this album is probably one of the reasons it’s a good thing.
Store clerk (SC): “Can I help you sir?”
Me: “Yes, I’m wondering if you’ve got that Blaque Sperm release?”
SC: “Excuse me?!”
Me: “I was looking for Blaque Sperm but I couldn’t find it”
SC: “I think you may have the wrong store”
Me: “Nooo, it’s called Spurmacal Tendencies, it’s a rap album”
SC: “Ohhhh” [waves away incoming security]
This album simply wouldn’t fly in 2025, with a generation that’s been overexposed to pornographic imagery. The Houston-based rap crew Blaque Spurm don’t help their cause, considering songs from the 1994 LP “Spurmacidal Tendencies” have names like “Jizm” and “Gravy Techniques”. Their fascination with man-milk is splattered throughout an album that’s not really about sex at all. It’s solid, jazzy boom-bap that’s entirely familiar, perfectly serviceable, but nothing particularly memorable. Purists will argue that it’s still better than 95% of modern Hip-Hop, and I’m inclined to agree, but it’s also understandable how this fell into obscurity not long after it was released.
In the early 1990s, Black (or Blaque) was often found in artists’ names, not because it was suddenly deemed cool to be Black, but because there was an increased sense of pride in one’s Blackness. Groups like Public Enemy, Boogie Down Productions, Brand Nubian, and the whole Native Tongues movement – Afrocentricity and Black pride wasn’t just prevalent in Hip-Hop, it was one of its defining elements. At the same time, you saw the arrival of Black Sheep and Black Moon, before Black Thought, Blaq Poet, Blak Twang et al embraced the color in their names too. By 1996, Blaque Sperm wasn’t a silly name at all, if anything, it was taking the Black naming convention back to its origins, in the scientific sense.
This album made it onto my radar and is worthy of your time thirty years after its release because it features Tony D production. Not the legendary battle rapper from London, but the often-overlooked producer of artists like Poor Righteous Teachers and King Sun, who unfortunately died in a car crash in 2009. Other beats come courtesy of ItchE, Grizz & Prodigy. Not that one (or that one).
Given the group hails from Houston, they don’t have that mid-1990s Houston sound to their music you’d associate with a UGK or 5th Ward Boyz, Five men deep, members B. Fine, Stylze, Cuba, Papa Doc and J-Nap are often difficult to differentiate on each of the thirteen songs, and it’s why a track like “Awh Fuck It” sticks out. A B.Fine solo effort, it’s a nastier, more curse-laden approach, adopting that grimy Onyx style that was popular at the time:
“Damn it, if you can’t handle it, fleece
I don’t dig pigs, so fuck the police
‘Cause they always tryin’ to play a n**** like a crim’
They don’t know that I fill them to the rim like brim
badabim, I’m back, Back to ride my own dick
Just a bit longer, don’t make me King Kong ya
Brains into the carpet, I smacked your bitch up and told her to park it
Before she becomes carcass
I sparked this mic, so now let me extinguish it
Mad niggas be poppin’ on the singin’ shit
Weak ass beats, bullshit lyr-ics
Makes you want to put a bullet in the radio when you hear it
The point of no return I’m near it
But I won’t fall a victim, I’ll just fuckin’ diss ’em”
“The Cycle” is a song that shows the crew at their best, as far as chemistry and rocking a straightforward set of bars that any listener can rap along to goes. The beat is once again the star of the show though, this time courtesy of Grizz.
The songs that aren’t so great, are the drearily delivered track “Blaque Spurm” and the messy “Tri-Optical”, both feeling more amateurish in their execution and ultimately dragging down the album’s other moments. Written out, the mediocre lyricism hides the largely steady rap flows and of-the-time styles, with the production carrying much of the weight. Many underground boom-bap albums of the mid-1990s that you see catching reissues suffer from this imbalance; it’s something you just have to take on the chin.
According to Discogs, the group returned in 2008 under the boringly named Funk Family, which feels like a 180 in terms of unique identifiable names. Blaque Spurm are a curio, and if you’re the type of rap fan who gets uncomfortable telling people you like listening to the GZA, or still can’t move away from the no-homo years, “Spurmacidal Tendencies” is probably too big a load to bear. Shouting “EJACULATION” at the start of a verse simply didn’t catch on. Beats aren’t exactly troubling Pete Rock’s best but there’s plenty to enjoy here on that front. The emcees just lacked the personality of other crews at the time. If you’re a historian, collector, or just another curious fan, there’s enough here to warrant its reputation as a solid deep-cut from 1994, one of Hip-Hop’s finest years.