Nashville Pussy

Pleased To Eat You

Classic Rock - - The Hard Stuff - Everett true

Lock up your par­ents! They’re nasty. Crude, de­ranged, full of sass and bad lan­guage and even bad­der licks, the new al­bum from the band Lemmy once called “Amer­ica’s last great rock’n’roll band” kicks the prover­bial ass. Hard. With no letup and cer­tainly no apolo­gies. Hill­billy sludge. Pri­mor­dial grunge. The blues as tossed into a meat grinder. There’s no ar­ti­fice here, no bull­shit. South­ern rock­ers Nashville

Pussy are back.

Hus­band-and-wife team

Blaine Cartwright (vo­cals, rhythm gui­tar) and Ruyter Suys (lead gui­tar) are on par­tic­u­larly ri­otous form on this sev­enth al­bum (pro­duc­tion by Danny ‘Ra­mones’ Rey). Songs like the bruis­ing One Bad Mother and bru­tal Try­ing To Pre­tend That

I Give A Shit are dirty, belligerent, AC/DC-chan­nelling; rock, the way ban­dana-wear­ing pre­tenders Aero­smith and Jon Bon so clearly aren’t.

This band are not back­wards in com­ing for­wards: more songs about whiskey, women, stud farms, booz­ing, get­ting wasted, swear­ing and eat­ing out­doors and some shit-kick­ing mu­sic. “Just don’t dress up,” says Suys, “cos it’s gonna get messy.”

Amen, sis­ter.

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