Sly Sex, it turns out, is not a bunch of songs about that summer I spent on tour with the Family Stone being Sylvester Stewart’s coked-out plaything. Sly Sex is nothing more than Redd Foxx being filthy and hilarious, you enormous dummies!
Depending on when you catch me during the day, I’ll either insist that this should’ve been called Slyy Sexx for continuity purposes, or I’ll say nope, that’s stupid, such a title would be overkill and kinda corny. There’s just no pleasing me, you guys.
(I hate how I look in redd but this cover kept calling me. It was just so damn easy to recreate. And besides, how could I not pay tribute to Mr. Sanford?)