Rushin' to Save the World Born-again bluesman Bobby Rush gyrates to end racism By Art Tipaldi

From the classic female blues singers of the 193Os to Elvis in the 195Os to Madonna in the 1980s, there is a long-standing tradition of sexual double enten-dres eroticism and male machismo within popular music. Plainly spoken, the more risque' thc lyrics or show the more popular the music.

Enter Bobby Rush, a performer since the 1950s, on the Chitlin' Circuit, the route of African-American clubs and theaters throughout the nation. Recently, he expanded his touring to include as many blues festivals and clubs as possible. The result has been multiple WC. Handy-the Grammy of the blues-nominations in the last three years, including Entertainer of the Year.

Rush uses his parental warning sticker well. He prowls the stage and taunts audiences like a terrorist holding a hand grenade with the pin removed. At any moment, some provocative dance or suggestive line could explode the show's R rating. Whether it's his gyrating dancers' non-stop hips and right clothes punctuating every sexual reference he utters to the 'fellas," or his own good looks and boasts of his omnipotent sexual prowess to the ladies, Rush always adds his sly wink to put the show into the realm it really belongs-to ridicule outdated Puritan sexual manners.

"It's been stated a few times that my show is too risque' for audiences," says Rush. "This is ridiculous, because if I was Tom Jones, they would say' nothing. If you look on TV and you see a man sellin' a cat on TY there's always a lady with a short dress helpin'. Within the first three minutes, I know what to do and when to do it."

Rush's stage personas are many. From the henpecked guy in his song, 'Hen Pccked," to the lover of big women in Big Fat Woman," his spicy banter always centers the show's spotlight on him. "I'm the shoe shine boy from early part of the century shinin' shoes," he says. "People lined up for the shoe shine boy to shine their shoes, but it was the entertainment he was doin' while he was shinin'. I'm the Cab Calloway that people come to see, the real guy, the average guy who speaks the truth."

Making the music color blind is the message behind the man. "People wanted me to change what I do to fit in with the white club. I said no way, this ain't about no white and black issue. This is about good music," he says The other blues guy is doin' the blues, but he sellin out because he's doin' music he thinks white people like.

"I want to cross over into the white market, but I don't want to cross over and cross out. I mean, I don't want to cross the ghetto people, the Chitlin' Circuit, the black people out because those are the roots and foundation. That's where I come from," he continues. "Why should I record something for white people and then record something differ-ent for black people? I just want people to throw this black and white issue away. Let's make good music that's for everybody because the music don't have no color."

Bush's current audiences reflect his own color blindness, with African-Americans who remember his riotious shows of the past joining people just discovering this 40-year music veteran. By mid-show, Rush has all colors, sexes and ages winking along with him.

The paradox of the ribald Rush is that he is a born-again Christian and devoted husband. In 1992, his spir-ituial rebirth made him realize that the music he played was his religious vocation. Through that music, Rush realized he could begin to unite blacks and whites. "I don't want people to think I'm a religious nut, but I do want people to know where I'm coming from," He says "I live the kind of life now that'll set example. I still got things I'm working on , I guess the blues is one of the weaknesses that I have. I'm hopin' to get stronger about all the weaknesses J have. My promise is to do the blues and be the one to start this ball rolling. If I can touch one person, I'm effective. That's a star'. 'That's what it's about."

Thus, the man who holds up gigantic panties and coyly asks, "Has anybody seen my woman?" also attends a Bible study class every Wednesday night. The man who crows, "I ain't henpecked, just pecked by the right hen," runs a prison ministry with his wife of 38 years, and uses his tour bus to transport rural African--American voters in Jackson, Miss., to the polls every November. "I'm pretty tied in with groups helpin' out black kids who have never been voting," he says. "I don't let people talk about black and white issues to me. 'We're not about that in the South. We're about problem-solv-ing in the community."

Now well into his 60s, Rush has been playing the blues for over 40 years through personal tips and downs. "God give me the gift of the entertainer. I'm so thankful and blessed to see the wheel turn for me again. Life is like a wheel," he says. "You put a mark on it and then you roll it. Sometimes it comes right back around to your mark and sometimes it don't. I'm lucky, the wheel's been marked for me and come back around two or three times."