Imagine walking into a smoke-filled club in 1974. The lights go down, the bass kicks in, and out steps a quintet from D.C. called the Dynamic Superiors. They look like your standard Motown outfit—sharp suits, tight choreography, and big smiles. But then the lead singer, a man named Tony Washington, starts to sing. His falsetto is high, angelic, and piercing.
Then things get interesting.
Halfway through the set, Tony might swap his suit for a dress. Or maybe he just keeps the makeup on while he flips the lyrics to a popular hit. When the group covers Billy Paul’s massive anthem, they don't sing about "Mrs. Jones." Tony stands front and center, looks the audience in the eye, and belts out "Me and Mr. Jones."
In the hyper-masculine world of 1970s R&B, this wasn't just a performance. It was a revolution. Tony Washington was an openly gay frontman signed to the biggest Black-owned label in the world, and honestly, most people today have never even heard his name.
The D.C. Roots and a Pact of Brotherhood
The Dynamic Superiors weren't an overnight sensation. Far from it. They started as childhood friends in the housing projects of Northeast Washington, D.C., attending Spingarn High School. The original lineup featured Tony Washington on lead, his brother Maurice Washington on bass, George Spann, George Peterback, Jr., and Michael McCalpin.
They were a brotherhood. Literally and figuratively.
They were so serious about the group that they reportedly made a pact: none of them would get married so they could focus entirely on their careers. By 1968, they’d pooled their performance money to buy a house together. Talk about commitment. While they had a minor release on Sue Records in 1969 called "I'd Rather Die," they spent over a decade grinding in the club circuit, often lying about their ages just to get through the door.
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Success finally knocked in 1972 at a DJ convention in Atlanta. Ewart Abner, the president of Motown, saw them and was floored. He didn't just see a vocal group; he saw something the industry hadn't dared to market yet.
Motown and the Marketing of the "Out" Artist
When Motown signed the group, they didn't ask Tony to hide. In fact, they leaned into it. This is where the story gets nuanced. Some see it as progressive—a major label supporting a queer Black man—while others see it as a calculated marketing ploy.
Look at their 1975 self-titled debut album cover. It’s a dreamscape of pink butterflies and roses. Tony is front and center, rocking long fake eyelashes, cyan eye shadow, and rosy lipstick. He's bare-chested under a sequined jacket. It was bold. It was loud.
Their second album, Pure Pleasure, took it further. The cover featured a man’s hairy legs with painted toenails.
The music was handled by the legendary Ashford & Simpson. Nickolas Ashford and Valerie Simpson were the architects of the Motown sound, and they gave the Dynamic Superiors some of their best material. "Shoe Shoe Shine" became a legitimate hit, reaching the Top 20 on the R&B charts. It’s a gorgeous, soaring track that showcased Tony’s incredible range. If you close your eyes, he sounds like he could be fronting the Stylistics or the Delfonics.
Breaking the "Mister Jones" Barrier
Live shows were where the Dynamic Superiors truly separated themselves from the pack. While they toured with heavyweights like Stevie Wonder and The Jackson 5, Tony was doing something no one else was.
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He didn't just "hint" at his sexuality. He lived it on stage.
The "Me and Mr. Jones" flip wasn't a joke; it was an reclamation. At the time, the Black press didn't always know what to do with them. Headlines in papers like the New York Amsterdam News called them a "Gay Music Crusade."
Tony’s response? He just kept singing.
He told New Gay Life in 1977 that he didn't view it as a crusade. To him, he was just being himself. He was the lead singer, he was gay, and that was the reality. There was no "character" to step out of once the curtains closed.
The Discography That Time Forgot
If you're looking to dig into their sound, you have to start with the Ashford & Simpson years.
- The Dynamic Superiors (1975): Features "Shoe Shoe Shine" and "Leave It Alone." It’s pure mid-70s soul bliss.
- Pure Pleasure (1975): Includes a daring male-on-male cover of "Ain't Nothing Like the Real Thing."
- You Name It (1976): A transition toward a slightly more disco-oriented sound.
- Give and Take (1977): Produced by Brian Holland (of Holland-Dozier-Holland fame). Their cover of "Nowhere to Run" is a certified dancefloor filler.
The Quiet Exit and a Tragic Ending
By the end of the 70s, the momentum began to stall. Disco was changing the landscape, and Motown’s focus was shifting. The group released one last album on Venture Records in 1980 called The Sky’s The Limit, but by then, the original magic had faded. Tony Washington eventually retreated from the spotlight.
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He moved back to D.C., away from the glitz of the Motown machine.
Details about his final years are sparse, which is a tragedy in itself. Tony Washington passed away in 1989. While some sources are vague, it is widely accepted among music historians like Kevin Coombe that he died of AIDS-related complications. He died at a time when the epidemic was ravaging the artistic community, and because he wasn't a "superstar" on the level of Marvin Gaye, his passing went largely unnoticed by the mainstream.
Why Tony Washington Matters Today
We talk a lot about "firsts" in the industry. We talk about Lil Nas X or Frank Ocean. But Tony Washington was doing the work in 1974. He was an openly gay Black man in a world that wasn't ready for him, signed to a label that, while supportive in its own way, was still a business first.
He wasn't a caricature. He was a powerhouse vocalist who happened to be queer. He paved a path that few followed at the time because the cost was so high. He lost the chance at mainstream legendary status because he refused to play the game of the "closeted heartthrob."
Actionable Ways to Honor the Legacy
If you want to actually support the memory of what Tony and the Superiors did, don't just read about them.
- Listen to "Shoe Shoe Shine" on high volume. Notice the technical difficulty of those falsetto runs. That’s pure talent.
- Dig into the Pure Pleasure album. Listen to how they recontextualize classic Motown duets through a queer lens. It was decades ahead of its time.
- Support D.C. Soul History. Organizations and archives in Washington, D.C. are still working to preserve the stories of the Spingarn High kids who made it to the big stage.
- Share the story. The biggest threat to a legacy is silence. Tony Washington didn't stay silent in 1975, so we shouldn't stay silent about him now.
The Dynamic Superiors weren't just a footnote. They were a testament to the idea that soul music has always been a big enough tent for everyone—even if the world tried to tell them otherwise.