Steamhammer/SPV
All Access Rating: A+
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| Nashville Pussy - Ten Years of Pussy 2015 |
To the sainted leader of one of rock 'n' roll's most notorious bands, these raunchy, Southern rock reprobates are the real deal. In Kilmister's own words, "If there's ever been a better band to open for Motorhead, I've not heard them!"
Any doubters should acquaint themselves with Ten Years of Pussy, a new 22-track, two-disc "best of" collection from Steamhammer/SPV that's a 120-proof distillation of everything that's great about rock 'n' roll, taking the best Nashville Pussy material from the last decade of recorded material and pairing it not with a nice glass of Chardonnay, but rather a handful of live firecrackers that should be handled with care instead.
Unapologetically nasty and unrepentant about its sinful ways, Nashville Pussy's shotgun wedding of AC/DC's metallic crunch, the rowdy, red-neck swagger of Lynyrd Skynyrd and punk's reckless energy makes them as potent as moonshine on such fist-pumping anthems as "Come On Come On," "Pussy Time," "I'm So High" (with Danko Jones) and "Why Why Why," their infectious choruses swimming in STDs and drunken rebellion. And while they don't mind getting messy and sloppy, as they do on the rambling, Stones-y bump-and-grind of "Before The Drugs Wear Off" and the torn-and-frayed blues of "Lazy Jesus," Nashville Pussy favors hooks and mean-ass riffs as tight as Mick Jagger's pants, the blazing – not to mention hilarious – condemnation of the modern Confederacy "The South's Too Fat to Rise Again" absolutely scorching the earth.
And while the main package of choice Nashville Pussy studio tracks offers an essential primer for anybody still unfamiliar with how cohesive and powerful a unit they are – the salacious crawl of "Til The Meat Falls Off The Bone" is a particularly wicked delight – an extra disc of six vicious, rip-roaring concert cuts from Blaine Cartwright, Ruyter Suys, Bonnie Buitrago and Jeremy Thompson makes them seem even more savage and combustible when freed from the studio. Burning like Jack Daniels going down the wrong pipe, the Southern-fried boogie meltdown of "Nutbush City Limits" and the raucous, one-two punch of "Struttin' Cock" and "Late Great USA" are pumped full of adrenalin and wired on trucker speed. And that's just how God intended Nashville Pussy, champions of trailer-trash excess and poor decisions, to play.
– Peter Lindblad
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