Review: Rev Horton Heat with Nashville Pussy
at The Usual in downtown San Jose 7/2001
by Lannie Rose
This was a lot more hard core than I had
anticipated. My first clue was the number of Harleys parked
outside The Usual when I arrived a little after 9. It was
full, and getting fuller as the night went on. While it
never got uncomfortably packed, I think it's safe call
it a sold out show. The crowd was the whitest I have
ever seen, not a single black, brown or asian face
among them (except for one poor security guard). Way
less than the usual per centage of software engineers,
too! I had been afraid to wear my jeans in case there
was a dress code, so I wore a gray skirt and a white
tee shirt .. ha! 80% of the people were in
jeans!
I knew immediately that I was in for some real
rock'n'roll, just from the stacks of Fender and Marshall amps
on stage--you know, the kind with tubes, baby. No
pussy PeeVee equipment here! No pussy keyboards either,
just guitars and drums, thank you!
Nashville
Pussy hit the stage at 9:40, and OH MY GOD! Think Molly
Hatchet meets Spinal Tap. Think southern punk AC/DC.
Think LOUD and NASTY! Nashville Pussy does indeed have
some pussy--a cute brunette bass player and a foxy
nasty blonde guitar heroine. This is a two Les Paul
attack, the other guitar and lead vocals being a guy who
could be David Crosby's crack-head uncle. The drummer
completed the quartet, but I couldn't see him. They rocked,
to put it mildly. No breaks, no ballads, just BIG
GUITARS. Half-way through the 50 minute set the blonde
guitarist Ruyter stripped down to her read silk bra, and ..
well, here are a couple of pix, and you can see more at
Nashville Pussy if you like.
After Nashville
Pussy left the stage, the roadies changed over the
equipment in about a half hour, but it was still another 20
minutes before the Reverend Horton Heat hit the stage at
11:20, looking for all the world like Notch Johnson from
Son of the Beach. It's just the Rev on a BIG GUITAR,
a hollow body something or other with a whammy bar,
Jimbo on a big red stand-up bass, and the drum kit. But
this was no whimpy rockabilly stuff, it was hard-core
surf nazi LOUD NASTY rock! The crowd loved it, and
they played to the crowd. A mosh pit formed, but
Lannie don't do mosh, I just cowered over at the side.
They played 'till 1:15, including many wonderful tunes
you may know and love, like Pshychobilly Freakout,
The Devil's Chasin' Me, Wiggle Stick, and Nurture My
Pig.
I was probably the only trannie in the place. I
half expected to be hassled, but the closest thing to
a hassle was one guy who complimented me, "You're
lookin' good tonight," but followed it up with, "Do you
take it the hard way?" Otherwise a few girls
complimented me on my shoes and hair, and one girl talked to
me about the Savoy. One guy high-fived me .. he had
on a tee shirt that said, "Smoke Crack and Worship
the Devil." I thought that summed up the crowd's
attitude pretty well.
So I had a good but
exhausting time. (No seating, just standing or moshing on
the dance floor, and try to avoid the beer bottles on
the floor and the beer flying through the air.) I
wonder how many days it will be before my hearing
returns to normal. If you get a chance I would recommend
catching these bands, but only if you are a bold trannie
who rocks hard-core .. rock on, trannie
nation!
Here's Notch Johnson, do you think he and the Reverend were separated at birth?
Home ..
Words index