MetalSucks

I’ve been trying to download the new Marilyn Manson mp3, “We’re From America,” but navigating that guy’s website is more difficult than getting Rob Halford hard with a naked photo of Christina Scabbia . So, whomever designed that site… fuck you, and fuck your mother.

In other news, here’s what happened in the world of metal this week:

• We spoke to Believer’s Kurt Bachman and Nashville Pussy’s Blaine Cartwright.
• We listened to new releases from Malefice, Millions, I Killed the Prom Queen and Corpus Christi.
• Is this the worst music video of 2009 so far?
• We really like the new Isis song! Seriously!
• The screamo-crunk explosion has begun… and now we wish it would end.

Alright everyone. I know we’re all excited for the weekend, but try not to die of alcohol poisoning. See ya Monday.

-AR

In a way, high-intensity rock and roll is like a bottle of whiskey: good fun while you’re drinking, but maybe not meant for extended use. That’s why it’s especially gratifying that Atlanta rebel rockers Nashville Pussy, led by a livewire husband/wife duo Blaine Cartwright and Ruyter Suys, have excelled beyond their initial explosion, 1998’s Grammy-nominated Let Them Eat Pussy. Collapsing record labels and a total media blackout have kept the ‘Pussy at cult-level status, though the scandalously-named quartet boasts a hearty fanbase in Europe and consecutive classic albums, including the brand new From Hell To Texas (SPV/Steamhammer). [Read the MetalSucks review here.]

Scary on stage and hilarious in conversation, Cartwright spoke with MetalSucks from his Atlanta home about the sound of timeless music, rocking Europe, and the Nashville Pussy civil war movie.

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Years ago, high-speed southern rockers Nashville Pussy almost made me miss this killer Motorhead gig. This is hard to admit, but in my mind, the handful of NP gigs by which I’d been dick-punched were so awesomely raucous, punishing, and relentless that a seed of doubt began to grow in me that Motorhead may not be able to follow them as the tour’s headliners. After the Pussy set, I almost made it to the doors, but a series of surprised frowns turned me back near the coat check. And then Motorhead tore my fucking head off. It felt great to be wrong.

The point is not that I’m a moron (though true), but that Nashville Pussy were the recipients of the pretty high praise that night, if only in the head of one silly dude. A better high-octane rock ‘n roll live band than Motorhead? Impossible. But does a balls-out AC/DC-meets-Ramones quartet fronted by a frothing outlaw and backed by frequently nude and/or fire-breathing chicks justify pause for thought? Hell yes.

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