Nashville Pussy Albums (5)
'From Hell to Texas'
Release Date 2/10/2009
Tracks 12
Label Steamhammer
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Through four albums and relentless touring, Atlanta-based Dixie shock-rockers Nashville Pussy have built a well-oiled, dirty little empire both at home and abroad -- Googling their name without quotes yields at least three pages of relevant information before descending into a virus-laden chasm of amateur porn. The band's fifth full-length album does little to tarnish their reputation as hard-drinking, stripper-pole-grinding, pistol-wielding heathens from a Southern Gothic graphic novel. If anything, From Hell to Texas solidifies the group as America's answer to Motörhead: a streamlined, in-your-face wrecking crew that owns the bar as soon as they walk in, leaving its customers bloody, broken, and usually better for the experience. Musically, Nashville Pussy deliver the goods raw (think Blackie Lawless fronting a Southern-fried rock version of the Stooges), stacking redneck euphemisms on top of dirty, boogie-metal riffs like wartime heads on a pike -- each track ("Speed Machine," "Stone Cold Down") sounds exactly like its title would suggest. That said, they're here to yell along with the audience, not at it. There's an inclusiveness to the whole affair that feels more like a sweaty punk rock pit "boot to the head/hand to help you up" than it does your standard, everything goes, bayou bar brawl. That attitude rings clearest on the blistering title cut, a straight-up swamp rocker that pretty much sums up Nashville Pussy's mission, and when Blaine Cartwright sings "I was born to die in a rock & roll band" and the band replies "Drink up everybody, we're goin' back on the road," it's awfully hard not to want to crawl into the back of the van and ride into the sunset with them. ~ James Christopher Monger, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
"Keep on f*ckin'!" Nashville Pussy explained on 2002's Say Something Nasty. "That's God's first commandment!" Thus having rewritten scripture, there's little for the band to do besides raise hell. Of course, if you trust in 2005's Get Some!, they did that already, too. "Raisin' Hell Again" is just two more minutes of riff-ripping hoariness in a hairy and calamitous string of them, just one of 13 more reasons to love and/or hate this proudly sleazy Atlanta combo. "Grab some and hold on" -- opener "Pussy Time" is the kind of mirthful double-entendre theme to make you hope Nashville Pussy replace Jeff Healy as the Double Deuce's house band in a future remake of Road House. But luckily the songwriting attack for this record is generally more focused than on past outings, ensuring that Get Some! doesn't exist solely as more power-drinking background music for trustees of modern chemistry. "Come on Come On" is genuinely anthemic Southern hard rock, the Kiss/AC/DC hybrid "Good Night for a Heartattack" struts on the edge of death wish hedonism (at one point Blaine Cartwright screams something about wrapping Xanax in bacon), and "Hate and Whisky" uses a heavy blues template to show off the background vocals of Ruyter Suys and new bassist Karen Cuda. (As usual, Suys' stinging guitar leads throughout Get Some! are something to be reckoned with.) "Lazy White Boy" might be Nashville Pussy's true theme song, a cocky and offensive tribute to six packs, dime bags, and armchair butt grooves that manages to be unblinkingly pitiful and totally badass all at once. Nashville Pussy don't care if you're God, the Devil, or a rattlesnake. They'll drink you under the table, tie you to a chair, and steal your car, then leave the number to where they'll be so you can join the party. ~ Johnny Loftus, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Five years into their career, Nashville Pussy are showing no signs of maturing -- which is great news for the fans. Say Something Nasty is cut from the same cloth as its two predecessors, fusing garage-style AC/DC boogie with a gleefully unrepentant embrace of white-trash decadence. Although most of the songs are little more than a place to hang gimmicky catch phrases like "You Give Drugs a Bad Name" and "Keep on Fucking," the entire Nashville Pussy package, taken as a whole, is satisfying just the same. Lead guitarist Ruyter Suys emerges as the group's secret weapon here -- her Angus Young-style fretboard scrabbling raises the excitement level considerably -- while the absence of original bassist Corey Parks is virtually unnoticeable on record (her physical presence and on-stage antics were Parks' most memorable contributions to the band). Amidst all the decidedly unmelodic noisemaking, "Here's to Your Destruction" -- smartly placed in the middle of the record -- provides a refreshing change of pace, featuring a heavy-handed take on Lynyrd Skynyrd-style Southern boogie. Gloriously dumb fun. ~ Andy Hinds, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Unrepentantly vulgar and sleazy, Nashville Pussy came storming out of the south in the late '90s, riding a wave of Southern rock and psychobilly to become a cult favorite among indie rockers and wannabe bikers alike. They got enough exposure and sales with their debut Let them Eat Pussy to be briefly signed to Mercury Records just before the Universal-Polygram merger that led to the mega-major jettisoning of any "marginal" act like the quartet. Nashville Pussy landed on their feet, signing to TVT and cutting their second album, High As Hell, with Fastback's Kurt Bloch. There was a certain amount of anticipation for the album when it hit the stores in the summer of 2000, since no other hard-rock band even tried to be as greasy, dirty, and fun as Nashville Pussy. Well, fun is a subjective term, of course, and not everybody will find this stupid, borderline obscene rock & roll fun. Honestly -- only a minority of rockers will find overpoweringly loud songs like "She's Got the Drugs" and "Blowjob from a Rattlesnake" contagious, but those that do will have a hard time turning down High as Hell. It's hardly an artistic progression from Let Them Eat Pussy -- it's more of a replication, really -- but that's not really a problem, since that's not what the group is about, anyway. Nashville Pussy is about sex, drugs, sleaze, and rock & roll. They're not about music or melody, they're about attitude. They can't sing, they avoid melodies like the plague, they don't even really write riffs, and when they do, it seems like they've stumbled upon them. What they do is make a lot of noise. With the assistance of Bloch, they make a lively, dynamic, visceral record, but it never transcends above the level of sheer noise because there's nothing to hold onto -- no riffs or hooks, nothing to distinguish one song from the next, apart from a couple of shouts or the extended jamming on the closing "Drive." Of course, that may not matter to a lot of their fans, since it just delivers 12 tracks that virtually duplicate the virtues of the debut -- and that may be all some listeners are looking for. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
'Let Them Eat Pussy'
Release Date 2/24/1998
Tracks 18
Label Amphetamine Reptile
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Every few years, a new psychobilly act comes around and grabs certain portions of the underground by the neck. With their hard, gutsy records, Vegas charm, and greaser style, the Rev. Horton Heat dominated the alternative era of the early '90s. As everyone knows, the alternative era loosened society's taboos, forcing new bands to go even further then their predecessors. That's where Nashville Pussy comes in. Nastier than the Rev. Horton Heat in every sense, from their sex-drenched lyrics to their fire-breathing live shows, Nashville Pussy became a minor media sensation in early 1998, partially because there hadn't been a new psychobilly band in five years and partially because rock journalists just get off on writing the word "pussy." Nashville Pussy was smart enough to exploit the segment of the indie rock audience that's sexually frustrated and perpetually horny -- the kind of guy who doesn't want to buy a copy of High Society, but is more than willing to put his hard-earned money down on a record entitled Let Them Eat Pussy that sports a cover photo of two trashy chicks shoving two guys' heads into their crotches. So, give them credit for finding their market and exploiting it, but also give them credit for delivering an album that actually works. Granted, if you're not into the whole kitsch circus of psychobilly, this ain't your bag, but Let Them Eat Pussy rocks with a fury and a vengeance unseen -- well, since the Rev.'s albums for Sub Pop. The Pussy is heavier and noisier than any other psychobilly band, but the sexually integrated lineup gives them a sexual tension unseen in the genre since the Cramps. And, in many ways, Nashville Pussy is more fun than the Cramps, since they just don't give a damn about the past and tear on ahead. Never mind that the songcraft is nonexistent and there's little finesse to the playing -- Let Them Eat Pussy is all about sleaze, and it's the sleaziest record in years. Arguably the sleaziest record of the '90s, as a matter of fact. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
