At the end of a new documentary by Isaac Gayle and Ryan Olson, “Swamp Dogg Gets His Pool Painted,” the Artist Formerly Known as Jerry Williams declares himself the equal of Mark Twain and does so in language that the author of “Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” may not have altogether recognized, but whose spirit he would have likely applauded. “Under certain circumstances,” Twain wrote, “profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer.” 

Over the course of the documentary, Mr. Williams proves generous in his “relief” and doles out advice that could, by some lights, resemble a prayer: “Overall, just be cool. You know? And it’s all so fun, being yourself … but you’ve gotta find yourself.” The latter involves sacrifices as well as rewards. It’s been more than half-a-century since Mr. Williams adopted his nom de plume, Swamp Dogg.

Why Swamp Dogg? “Swamp,” in this case, refers to the rhythm-centered music coming out of Muscle Shoals, Alabama, in the late 1960s, the kind of soundtrack that propelled songs by Aretha Franklin, Etta James, Wilson Pickett, and others.

As for “Dogg,” well, let the man himself explain: “A dog can do anything, and anything a dog does never comes as a real surprise … you understand what he did, you curse while making allowances for him but your love for him never diminishes.” 

Combine the swamp and the dog and you have an entertainer who has the courage of his convictions, if not a sizable share of the marketplace.

Born in 1942 at Portsmouth, Virginia, Mr. Williams was a precocious talent, a musician, songwriter, and singer who recorded his first single at age 12. Keeping his hand in the game as he passed through adolescence, Mr. Williams went on to work for the administrative end at New York City-based Musicor Records and later moved to Atlantic Records as a producer. He formed a song-writing partnership with Gary U.S. Bonds, worked with Patti Labelle, and, from time to time, performed his own songs to modest success.

The compromises inherent in his professional duties rankled the artist’s sense of integrity. Mr. Williams “was mentally missing in action due to certain pressures, mal-treatments, and failure to get paid royalties on over 50 single records.” Enter Swamp Dogg and his 1970 debut album, “Total Destruction of Your Mind,” a propulsive grab-bag of political grandstanding, cornpone psychedelia, ramshackle satire, and odes to the rigors and responsibilities of fidelity. Imagine a by-hook-or-by-crook melding of the Beatles’s “I Am the Walrus” with “Soul Man” by Sam and Dave. The record continues to be a cult favorite.

The cover of “Total Destruction of Your Mind” bears discussion, as Mr. Williams’s taste in art and, by fiat, his self-defeating quiddities are touched upon in “Swamp Dogg Gets His Pool Painted.” The artist is pictured on the back of a garbage truck sitting in an ungainly position with what appears to be a metal pot on his head. The illustration on the front of his 1971 album, “Rat On!,” features Mr. Williams striking a heroic posture while perched upon an oversized rat. 

On other albums he has appeared as an enormous hotdog, hanging on a crucifix, and wearing white-tie-and-tails while showboating on top of a table at a corporate board meeting. In the documentary from Messrs. Gayle and Olson, Mr. Williams talks of how his wife and manager, Yvonne, would often question his taste in graphics. The titles of his albums were of a piece with the art, to wit: “Gag A Maggot,” “An Awful Christmas and a Lousy New Year,” and “I Need a Job … So I Can Buy More Autotune.”

Having died in 2003, Yvonne Williams didn’t live to see her husband’s 2024 release, “Blackgrass: From West Virginia to West 25th Street,” on which the 82-year-old Swamp Dogg, handsomely decked out in a white jacket and hat, looks out at us with the gruff assurance of an elder statesman. The attendant music underlines Mr. Williams’s grounding in country music, a no-brainer for a songwriter who scored a big hit for outlaw musician Johnny Paycheck, “She’s All I Got.”

Following on the heels of “Blackgrass” and “Swamp Dogg Gets His Pool Painted,” Pioneer Works Press is publishing “If You Can Kill It I Cook It,” Mr. Williams’s culinary treatise in which the hope is to outclass illustrious forebears like Julia Child and Colonel Sanders. Just how delicious are his “Gene Pitney Heartbreak Cabbage” or “Sam’s Cooke’d Ham from Smithfield”? We’ll have to head into the kitchen and find out. In the meantime, Messrs. Gayle and Olson have made a tribute that is as cantankerous, funny, and generous as the man himself. It’s as good a place as any to introduce yourself to the bedeviling universe of Swamp Dogg.