I just worked twelve days in a row but that was not gonna stop me from going to see the Supersuckers and Nashville Pussy on a Friday fucking night. No effing way. Sure, I was burnt out and tired, but what I needed was a dose of pure rock ‘n roll. And anyone who tells you that rock is dead is just a stupid person, plain and simple. Rock is alive and well, I saw the evidence with my own two eyes tonight.
Local band Sasquatch and the Sick-A-Billys kicked it off with a set of rockabilly. Think of an evil version of The Stray Cats, like if Brian Setzer and company drank too much and smoked way too much weed. If it’s possible for a rockabilly guitarist to shred, then this dude does. The songs were all about pussy, or eating pussy, or just being a bad person in general. They closed out their set with a straight cover of “Am I Evil” just to drive the point home that they aren’t very nice people and they will hurt you if given the chance.
I saw Nashville Pussy back when Corey Parks was in the band. Remember her? She was the eight foot tall chick with the big boobs who breathed fire. I thought I’d seen God when I first experienced the Pussy live. Alas, Corey hasn’t been in the band for a while now, but the Minister of Bad-Assedness himself, Eddie Spaghetti, was filling in on bass tonight. The rest of the band is still intact, including every teenage boy’s rock ‘n roll wet dream, Ruyter Suys. She’s all hair and boobs and guitar solos, like if Angus Young was the hot chick in town who was more interested in pentatonic minor scales than make-up. And yeah, Blaine is still fronting the band, like Lemmy’s evil and demented cousin. Basically, according to Nashville Pussy, the evolution of rock music stopped sometime around 1977 with Ted Nugent, Aerosmith and AC/DC. If the J. Geils Band sounded anything at all like Nashville Pussy’s cover of “First I Look at the Purse”, then I might give a fuck about the J. Geils Band. But they don’t, so I don’t. Anyhoo, they totally ripped it up, plus it was Blaine’s birthday, so that just added to the festivites.
I’ve been going to see the Supersuckers for years. YEARS. Their first four albums, “The Songs All Sound the Same”, “The Smoke of Hell”, “La Mano Cornuda”, and “The Sacrilicious Sounds of the Supersuckers”, got constant rotation from me back in the day. Those albums are rock ‘n roll gospel as far as I’m fucking concerned. Somehow the Supersuckers never quite crossed over to the mainstream and commercial success eluded them, through no fault of their own. I mean, they were on fucking Sub Pop, the songs were more catchy than STDs, and their whole image was rock solid. Eddie Spaghetti, I’m convinced, is one of the Great American Poets of our time. His lyrics are just unfuckwithable. So yeah, they busted out all the classics tonight: Luck, Coattail Rider, Mudhead, On the Couch, How to Maximize Your Kill Count, Doublewide, etc. Ron Heathman is no longer playing guitar, but the new dude fit in just fine. He looked as if he was just interrupted from fixing someone’s car to play the show, peeling off solo after face melting solo like it ain’t no big thing. And of course Dan Bolton was right there with him, looking exactly like this dude who coached my little league baseball team back in the 80’s. And I mean that as a compliment, that dude was cool as shit. Also, when did Eddie start looking exactly like Rob Halford with a cowboy hat? I don’t know, but he does. So yeah, this show ruled, and anyone who tells you that rock is dead is just a straight up fool who has no idea what the fuck they speak of.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.