Show opens slow, ends with a bang

Brad Klypchak and Brad Klypchak

Throw political correctness out the window on this one. Howards welcomed a couple of bands destined to make Tipper Gore cringe on Thursday night.

For those who showed (again, a smaller crowd than deserved – local places booking national tours deserve better support), they were privy to just how easy rocking can be. Atlanta’s Nashville Pussy aren’t the most skilled, most stylish, or most talented of bands, but they sure know how to make a crowd get involved and keep ’em wanting more.

The records are a cross of Motorhead with Skynyrd. In person, the band takes on more of an AC/DC tinge. Credit that to the talents of lead guitarist Ruyter Suys. She channeled Angus and did a fine impersonation of the mighty mite (though Angus never wore a bra and vinyl pants that well).

Complementing Suys was the yeoman’s effort of vocalist and husband Blaine Cartwright. The two led the charge through a set liberally split between their two-album (and an EP) discography. As a whole, the set never really veered from straight-on boogie and kept the crowd pleased as punch because of it. Overall, there was lots of energy and fun to be had by all.

For what it’s worth, openers Betty Blowtorch deserve credit for playing a solid set despite less than perfect circumstances.

For starters, there were all sorts of troubles equipment-wise for the first couple of songs. Beyond that, after talking with lead guitarist Blaire post-gig, I learned that both the rhythm guitar player and drummer had to be replaced within the week.

Jennifer Finch (ex-L7) and somebody named Dave respectively stepped up and got the job done. Apparently, Finch learned the set in a day (which says something about Finch’s talents or Blowtorch’s simplicity – bet more of the latter).

While the performance showed that vocalist/bassist Bianca and Blaire were skilled, my original impression of the album lingered (do a search on the BG News website – you’ll find it). If I could void myself of listening to lyrics, I might be a fan. Unfortunately, I can’t.

Lyrically, women degrading themselves as stereotypical sex objects becomes too blatant to ignore. The end result was a respect for the sound but dismay for the substance. Grade: Betty Blowtorch ” C-, Nashville Pussy ” A