Tuesday, March 11, 2003 @ 12:23 AM
Nashville Pussy, Cookie and Ca
- advertisement -
REVIEW BY: Chris Curtis, aka kidnothing
AC/DC are about to be inducted into the Rock n’ Roll Hall of fame, and while they haven’t done anything relevant in quite some time, I do know at least one band that is still carrying the torch that the Australian Boys lit back in the ‘70s: Nashville Pussy.
With a name like that, you had better be able to kick it into high gear for the audience. And after this night, there would be no doubt who’s the current king of barroom metal.
Out in support of their latest offering, Say Something Nasty, Nashville Pussy played to a packed house, roughly around 400 souls, looking for just some good, fun and dirty sleaze metal.
Opening the show were two local bands, Camarosmith and Cookie. While the name conjures images of an Aerosmith cover band, Camarosmith aren’t. Led by ultra-seventies looking Ben Rew, the band played a good 30 minute set of their updated take on hard, bell-bottom-wearing songs. They are scheduled to have their first CD out in April, and if you like good ‘70s metal (they even covered Judas Priest’s “Heading Out to the Highway” and Thin Lizzy’s “Are You Ready”), I highly recommend the guys. They played a high-energy set and had the crowd head banging right along with them. After they played, I got to meet a couple of the guys as they came and hung out. Great bunch of dudes. Talking with a few people that night, everyone liked them and they were a good fit to open for Nashville Pussy.
Cookie then took center stage. Another local band in the mold of The Distillers-meet-Social Distortion-with-a-twist-of-Wendy ‘O Williams, the threesome appeared to have a small contingent there that knew their music and they were well received. Lead singer/bassist Sabrina Rockarena used the show as a platform to take shots at the current “popular” music scene. Their latest CD, Sweat, Soaked and Satisfied, dives down the band’s punk-meets-metal style. Throw in a few country licks, and you have an infectious collection of story telling. Taking dead aim at MTV’s pop divas, Sabrina displayed a raunchy, bad girl style that is always welcome.
Once again, at the night’s conclusion, I introduced myself to Sabrina (who earlier crashed the front row during the Pussy’s set with the crowd) and she was cool enough to give me a copy of their first CD, All Hell Can’t Stop Us. She was as sweet as could be when I met her. Later, as I drove home, I popped the gift CD in and it sounded really good. A nine-track offering that’s catchy, melodic, but with attitude to stand up to mainstream crap, Cookie may not create an image of badass, but they are. Check ‘em out.
As soon as Nashville Pussy took the stage, ripping right into the title track, “Say Something Nasty,” I pushed for the front and banged bodies until I was on the stage, right in front of lead guitarist Ruyter Suys. For the record, and before I go anything further, let’s just set one point straight: she kicks ass as a guitarist. And I’m not comparing her to other female players, I mean ALL guitarists! She blistered through the set with no regard for her own well-being. She had torn pants that showed her battered knees, hands callused from playing and a snarl on her lip through out the entire set. Just the way it outta be!
They next went into “Gonna Hitch Hike Down To Cincinnati And Kick The Shit Out Of Your Drunk Daddy.” What an awesome tune. Blaine’s voice growls at you during this song, and with Jeremy and Katie Lynn backing him up, it was perfect banter music for any dive bar.
The Pussy gang continued to bang out one song after another. No more than 10 or 15 seconds would pass in-between songs. Blaine never conversed with the crowd the entire night, except once to announce “Keep on Fuckin’” as the next tune.
The stage’s appearance, as one can imagine, was low-key and simple. Marshall’s stacked up and Nashville Pussy logo, with “In Lust We Trust” draped across the back.
As I mentioned, I had made my way to the front and was able to see Ruyter jam all night. She later took off her t-shirt, exposing her leopard-print bra. Several times, she would be leaning into us while she played. She was so close; I could have licked her navel. But, I digress.
The band played a couple songs from their first CD, Higher Than Hell, and even added an AC/DC classic, “Shot Down in Flames” to the set. All of which sounded awesome. Later, during an extended solo, Blaine “fed” Ruyter a beer bottle while she continued to jam on her knees; quite the scene. She may not be Angus Young, but she is certainly not far behind and way hotter than Angus ever could have hoped for.
As there set neared its conclusion, Ruyter pulled off her ragged, holes-in-the-knees pants. Standing there in her bra and now g-string (which had across the front “squealer”), she pounded out the final notes as the rest of the band followed.
Rock and roll isn’t supposed to be pretty, but for one evening, it was sure as hell hot. As they strut, “Let them eat pussy!”