Entertainment

Come for the Pussy, stay for the music

Publication YearIssue Date 

If
you’ve never had the chance to witness Nashville Pussy live, take
the plot from a bad ’70’s porno movie, add fireballs, occasional
boots to the teeth, tattoos and gallons of whiskey, and you’ve got
a typical show.

However, unlike the cheesy soundtrack found on a B-grade smut flick, Nashville
Pussy’s guitar-driven Motörhead-meets-Misfits style rock and
raunchy stage antics would give any greasy raincoat type a hard-on.

Spawned from the ashes of Nine Pound Hammer and Phantom Creeps, Nashville
Pussy is comprised of a 6'3" fire spitting model-from-hell on bass
(Corey Parks), a cheerleader gone terribly awry on lead guitar (Ruyter
Suys), and two pissed-off biker types—complete with handlebar moustache—making
up vocals/rhythm guitar and drums (Blaine Cartwright and Jeremy Thompson
respectively).

Don’t go thinking that the only reason to see a Nashville Pussy show
is for the fire breathing and “intimate moments” shared between
Suys and Parks, because they’ve got the music to back up the stage
performance. Their brand of blistering trailer trash rock takes you back
to the days of 3/4 length sleeves, long greasy hair and Lemmy in his prime.
Suys’ AC/DC-influenced chord progressions and licks remind us of
the days when electronica was virtually non-existent, and long guitar
solos were cool.

Playing the MacEwan Hall Ballroom on Wednesday night to a somewhat-drunk-yet-enthusiastic
crowd, Nashville Pussy took to the stage and proceeded to blaze their
way through a solid hour of non-stop rock. Through showers of beer and
plastic cups, the Pussy belted out such timeless classics as “Go
Motherfucker Go” and “Shoot First, Then Run Like Hell.”

The audience’s thirst for flesh and fire was more than quenched throughout
the duration of the show. Removing her shirt to the leers and chants of
many horny bastards, Suys had a little fun with the audience, doing a
Gene Simmons imitation while simultaneously rocking out.

The hellfire came midway through the show when Parks let fly with a number
of fireballs that made most people in the front row recoil in fear. The
beer bottle fellatio between Suys and husband Cartwright, and the much
anticipated “lesbian” make-out session between Suys and Parks
quickly whipped the audience into a ripe, yet creepy, frenzy.

The show was brought to an apocalyptic end by a tired Suys climbing a
wall of speakers and ceremoniously ripping her guitar apart in a feedback-dominated
eulogy.

This was by far the best show I’ve seen at the Ballroom in a long
time. Nashville Pussy, unlike other bands who have played the same venue,
enjoyed themselves on stage and gave an excellent high-energy, hair-whipping
performance.

Once you’ve had a taste of the Pussy, there’s no turning back.

Section: 

Issue: