Nashville Pussy

NASHVILLE PUSSY

What can I say?
Nuthin.

Oh well- yes I can.

Last year we walked in late to their opening set at that Horton Heat show. We vowed then & there that we'd see 'em again.

Parade magazine will never feature them. Wayne Cochran is your mother compared to them. Wait, Stiv Bators is your mother compared to them.
They will never be lying on their death beds asking themselves "What was that all about?"
Their show is a full-on 100% Screaming Mimi (or screaming Meemie) assault on the very existence of rock n' roll. If they worked in a grocery store, You'd be greeted at the door, every item would be exactly where it belonged with the right prices, the floors would be immaculate and the produce fresh, and you would zoom through checkout. That's how hard they work. Like hard workin' bastards, who are forestalling their executions by playing for the Governor.

The staging is flawless: they look at each other, and blast! things happen right on cue. The drama don't stop. It's intuitive but looks well thought out.

The last song, Ruyter tore the strings off her guitar - when I asked Blaine how she manages to do that, he replied, "Hey she's got great chops."

Amen.

Phonecam doesn't do it justice, obviously, & I lost 2 closeups while talking to band members (forgot to hit save) so I have adulterated, to give an impression. Maybe successful.






Special show treat: Blaine sings Ace of Spades with Reverend Horton Heat



Go.

We Are The Romans

Know us by our rockin' edgy weapons y'all!

I Apologize to Tom and Dave.....

...but here goes anyway:

A Recommendation

Went on my annual pilgrimage to See Reverend Horton Heat last night, who put on a spectacular show as always, with an added "History of Music" that left one feeling as if the price of the ticket was well worth it.

I came to the conclusion that mosh pit people are basically unable to get laid. This is, in effect, moshing's raison d'etre- a sexstitute. They just have that look. A look that says, "I will somehow lack whatever it is you need to be attracted to in order to tryst." How the f*@k do you mosh to "Happy Camper"? Anyway, a bit of advice: when they come for you, lean in.

The real treat, for which, due to scheduling conflicts, we were only able to hear the last three songs of, was what I as of last night, consider to be possibly the greatest rock n' roll band ever: Nashville Pussy.
I felt like I dropped into a Robert Rodriguez film.

They were.......

Van-Tazdick.

Not only was the outrageousness turned up to 11, they were mixed well and tight. Others only hope to rock; Nashville Pussy is the touchstone for rocking. They could be the house band for House of 1001 Corpses, Kill Bill 3, and any other film with guts and elan you can imagine. The stage presence is amazing: stringy-haired trucker-hatted front man with two wild uber babes on guitar and bass, with a drummer that looked like he was ripped directly from the pages of an EC Comic. Here's their wiki, 'cos I still don't know who they are or anything. They're in Washington tonight, NYC tomorrow. GO. They're on first, like who, so get there early and don't make my mistake.

In the middle was Hank III and unfortunately, despite a great fiddler, slide guitar player, and bassist, it fell short - followed by the grandson of Hank Williams playing 45 minutes of non-sequituresque thrashmetalpunkyellingchants as their alter ego, Assjack. The first half's sound could've been at a casino (as my son so aptly put it) and the second half just was like a 200 decibel explanation of the rules of cricket. Don't get me wrong - there was a lot of good about his band, but Nashville Pussy pretty much killed them for me.

I was however mesmerized by two band members: The fiddler, who possessed an expression of such deep-seated glee at playing the fiddle, that I don't think you could find a happier more authentic looking country fiddler in all the picture books of country music in the universe. And the bass player- who provided an unrelenting kaleidoscope of asexually framed hatred, pain, confusion, hurt, indignance, and perverse introversion on his face - he was fascinating, and if I were casting a horror movie, this guy would have a job in about 5 minutes.

This picture doesn't even come close to the experience of him gesticulating wildly with obscene and/or hostile finger positions (like mudras of hate and pain and anger) while screaming profane epithets at the audience at the conclusion of a song....... Genius:



Last: Here's some images- the futility of phonecamming in that type of environment leads one to get all impressionistic as a way of salvaging them - first Nashville Pussy Followed by two Horton Heats:




But - OHHHHH! None are wallpapers - f#@*k it!

Radical Hypno High - Happy Hallowe'en from Farmer Vincent

From Motel Hell



Want it? Go HERE

Poor Ol' Chuan Duong's Car

The greater Philadelphia area has as many Vietnamese/SE Asian (so where's my Lee's sandwich shop already?!?!*drool*) move in as Phoenix has Mexicans move in each year. So Senor Duong fell victim to the land of the cheesesteak and the soft pretzel. Abandoned. But it still tells a story. All pictures are links to 1024 size for ease of viewing. His English is very interesting as he tells his tale of woe, crisis and confusion.

Why do I see so many written-on vehicles? My wife was even half-related to someone that did this....

Sequitur: a Flash Comic + Weirdness

I'm working on a concept piece using "Three Quarter Covers" comics (comics remaindered but given credit for by returning the title area or the top quarter of the cover to the distributor) called Sequitur, using largely non-verbal panels to form a concept stream.

Don't yew judge me! Don't judge me!

The picture immediately below is a link to SEQUITUR


BUT That's not all!!!

I found a couple of other oddities while collecting the images for Sequitur:

First, this pre-Bruno Magli OJ Simpson ad for Dingo boots!

(Link to bigger on click)

Next, this LOLmeme panel from 77 Sunset Strip Comics


Lastly, Barney Bear trying to get his chickens to explore alternative lifestyles....

Link to bigger above^^

The chickens looked shocked, I must admit.

Black Hula

By Marv Newland on Bambi Meets Godzilla Fame. When I saw it 2 deacades ago it made me cry. The message in the mise-en-scene says it all. I aslo think he unconciously influenced my choice of music (for differing emotional effect)in The Greatest Nancy Panel Ever Drawn Revisited.

Rashomon

I was looking at a site where somebody had posted a link to this as a download, and it made me wonder if it was public domain. Looking at another site today, I discovered it was.


Google Video has looooooong videos, and sure enough, someone already posted the entire film in its entirety.



The venerable Archive.org has it in a downloadable version, for those of you who wish to migrate it somewhere else.

Wonderfully enough, they also have the story (in Japanese) by Ryunosuke Akutagawa. A chap has translated it into English here.

The remake is also great...

The Outrage

With Paul Newman as a Mexican Mifune
Shatner.... as... a.... minister
Edward G. Robinson as a swindler
Laurence Harvey (Domino's Dad!) as the objectively conflicted husband


NOT ON DVD - why?!?!

Mr. Sonic - Weird & Lost Oddity

OUT OF PRINT - Danish. I know nothing about this. It's sample-y with classic blurbs - worked well. Don't construe my musical tastes as being this, but "supermarket, television, home" is strangely heartwarming and beautiful. Did I say oddity?