Nashville Pussy: Say Something Nasty

Music, by nature, is uncivilized. And the most uncivilized creature in the great, wide world of music is rock ‘n’ roll. It’s been that way from the start, ever since last century when Robert Johnson sold his soul at the crossroads and then Chuck Berry plugged in his first electric guitar. Rock’s the beast that, when stuck in a cage with the other animals, will rattle the bars, howl obscenely and try to have sex with all the females in the cage.

Something began happening to rock, however, right around the latter half of the century. Certain facets of rock started becoming . . . well, civilized. Polite, even. Instead of careening around like a mad badger in heat, rock now stopped to look at itself in the mirror. Whereas before rock was a nasty, greasy, shocking thing, it now displayed a desire to explore more respectable avenues for the same thing. Instead of being rude, Robert Plant was giving us metaphorically squeezed lemons and juices running down his leg. And John Lennon was swearing up and down that “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” was not about psychedelic drugs and was based, rather, on a drawing by his son, Julian. (Even though it is widely regarded the Beatles were pretty much skinked when they wrote Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band).

Of course, some still preferred to go the less mannered route all the same. Eric Clapton, not normally a particularly randy man, flatly stated that “Cocaine” is, indeed, alright. And people still cringe and titter, over twenty years later, when they hear AC/DC’s Bon Scott scream on about his “Big Balls”. It’s this sort of thing that keeps rock alive; the desire — nay, the almost irrepressible urge — to be shocking, rude and, ultimately, absolutely and irreverently shameless.

Nashville Pussy is no stranger to that conceit. The band’s first full-length album, 1998’s Let Them Eat Pussy, introduced the band’s sound, a mixture of hairy guitars, classic metal, Rob Zombie-like vocals, and frenzied, foul lyrics. It was enough to get the band noticed; one year later, the album track “Fried Chicken and Coffee” was nominated for a Grammy for Best Heavy Metal Performance.

2000’s High as Hell was, in the words of lead guitarist/wet dream Ruyter Suys (pronounced “Rider Sighs”), “more of the same.” She was right. Nashville Pussy didn’t stray far from the formula it had established on its debut. The themes remained the same: Sex (“Blowjob from a Rattlesnake”), Drugs (“She’s Got the Drugs”), Rock ‘n’ Roll (“Rock ‘n’ Roll Outlaw), and just plain shit-kicking, hairy assed grit. The sound was the same — classic southern rock, complete with screaming guitar solos, filtered down through a thoroughly punk discipline. And the attitude — the “we’re-either-going-to- Fuck-You-or-Fuck-You-Up” approach — that remained intact, as well.

It was evident from the start — from the very first album — that the band had found its niche. Now it’s 2002, and Nashville Pussy has released its third album. It’s titled Say Something Nasty. And yes — it’s all the same as before. Two hairy ugly dudes. Two hot scary chicks. All playing music that makes you want to get sweaty and have sex with a bottle of Jack looming on the bedstand. And this is the reason Nashville Pussy doesn’t change; it doesn’t want to — its absolutely irrepressible urge to rock and shock is just too strong — and it doesn’t need to, either. Any band that rocks hard enough to make you want to wear a clunky belt buckle and a John Deere cap doesn’t have any need to go adding synthesizers or tender acoustic ballads to their ouvre. The band just is, and it just does.

Songs like “Gonna Hitchhike Down to Cincinnati and Kick the Shit Outta Your Drunk Daddy”, “Say Something Nasty” and “Beat Me Senseless” further explore lead singer (and Suy’s husband) Blaine Cartwright’s surly demeanor, while “Keep on Fuckin'” and “Jack Shack” should give teen rock boys more fodder for the cannons they undoubtedly hold for supremely sleazy/sexy Suys and almost-nearly-as-sexy new bassist KatieLynn Campbell. “Here’s to Your Destruction” is a paen of ill-will, and “You Give Drugs a Bad Name” is very nearly the same, with a drug-themed twist thrown in.

But that’s all beside the point. The point is the attitude. Nashville Pussy is rough whiskey, and hot sex, and really (really) loud and hairy guitars, and wearing a black-jeans-and-black-T-shirt combo in the middle of a hot Confederate summer, and especially not being afraid to say “Fuck” a lot. As a matter of fact, it’s about not being able to help saying “Fuck” a lot. While drinking rough whiskey. And having hot sex. Ahh, you get the point.

What do they sound like? What do they sound like? Sure. They sound like Motorhead, like AC/DC, like Skynyrd with a broom handle shoved up its ass, you bastard. See? The attitude gets everywhere. Damn, man. It’s just rock ‘n’ roll.