Last night was my seventh time seeing Nashville Pussy play live. Like one of the bands they emulate and idolize, AC/DC, they don’t change much over time. It’s sleazy guitar rock, delivered fast and mean. It’s fun and juvenile. Wedged into the tiny Gaelic meant it was an up-close affair, though, which is the way the Pussy needs to be experienced.
They do less of the over-the-top stuff they used to: no lesbian make-outs, no fire-breathing, no stripping to underwear, no beer-bottle fellatio. The hell raising is limited to rockin’ now, though the permanent fixture of ladies on guitar and bass keep the sexy quotient high.
The Plummet Onions 