Let Them Eat Pussy

Album Review

Every few years, a new psychobilly act comes around and grabs certain portions of the underground by the neck. With their hard, gutsy records, Vegas charm, and greaser style, the Rev. Horton Heat dominated the alternative era of the early '90s. As everyone knows, the alternative era loosened society's taboos, forcing new bands to go even further then their predecessors. That's where Nashville Pussy comes in. Nastier than the Rev. Horton Heat in every sense, from their sex-drenched lyrics to their fire-breathing live shows, Nashville Pussy became a minor media sensation in early 1998, partially because there hadn't been a new psychobilly band in five years and partially because rock journalists just get off on writing the word "pussy." Nashville Pussy was smart enough to exploit the segment of the indie rock audience that's sexually frustrated and perpetually horny — the kind of guy who doesn't want to buy a copy of High Society, but is more than willing to put his hard-earned money down on a record entitled Let Them Eat Pussy that sports a cover photo of two trashy chicks shoving two guys' heads into their crotches. So, give them credit for finding their market and exploiting it, but also give them credit for delivering an album that actually works. Granted, if you're not into the whole kitsch circus of psychobilly, this ain't your bag, but Let Them Eat Pussy rocks with a fury and a vengeance unseen — well, since the Rev.'s albums for Sub Pop. The Pussy is heavier and noisier than any other psychobilly band, but the sexually integrated lineup gives them a sexual tension unseen in the genre since the Cramps. And, in many ways, Nashville Pussy is more fun than the Cramps, since they just don't give a damn about the past and tear on ahead. Never mind that the songcraft is nonexistent and there's little finesse to the playing — Let Them Eat Pussy is all about sleaze, and it's the sleaziest record in years. Arguably the sleaziest record of the '90s, as a matter of fact.