Nashville Pussy, Hit By A Semi & Die Trying

Image has always been as much a part of rock ‘n’ roll as the music itself. Sure, Alice Cooper and the Stooges could slay a crowd with a half-stack of Marshall amps, but where would they have been without the makeup? I wish the same was true for groups like Slipknot and Marilyn Manson, but in their case it’s simply all shock and no rock. Tuesday night’s show was a testament to the power of energetic rock ‘n’ roll when paired with an entertaining gimmick.
I arrived in style, rolling my battered Schwinn down the mean streets of Chico as cars tried to crush me. The first band, Die Trying, was cranking out music that sounded like something Fat Wreck Chords would have released 5 years ago: aggressive and melodic music with catchy hooks and strong guitar leads. The only drawback to their otherwise enjoyable set was the predictably skimpy crowd in attendance. It’s hard to really get what a group is trying to do when the audience-band dynamic is so limited.
Next to take the stage were Chico ex-pats Hit By A Semi. My exposure to them prior to this show has been nonexistent, and I was absolutely floored. Vocalist Rich Silva has a voice made for punk rock — tough and snotty — and he looked like a cross between a greaser and a wise guy. The backing was equally impressive, most notably Ryan Davidson, who is one of the most gifted bassists this side of Matt Freeman from Rancid. Their collective sound is airtight and raw, heavily influenced by classic West Coast punk like Channel 3 and T.S.O.L. Despite it being “rock star bullshit,” as guitarist Steve Paustell so quaintly put it, the band came back after their last number for an encore. Their set was also notable because it was one of the few times at a show where people weren’t slam-dancing for fear of knocking over one of the many beautiful girls in attendance.
Then came what everyone had been patiently waiting for…well, after 45 minutes of more waiting. Even if a band is going to deliver an intense 75-minute set, as Nashville Pussy proceeded to do, waiting almost an hour between bands did put a damper on the crowd’s energy.
It did not, however, seem to affect the group. From the moment he took the stage and commanded the attention of the audience, singer Blaine Cartwright came across as an unholy mix of Lemmy from Motörhead and AC/DC’s Bon Scott.
His between-song banter was fitting of a man who’s penned songs like “Go Motherfucker Go” and “Gonna Hitchhike to Cincinnati and Kick the Shit Outta Your Drunk Daddy.” Immediately after delivering the bad news (“We’ve run out of marijuana…”), he cheered the audience up (“…but we’re in California! Let’s get high!!!”).
The level of vigor exhibited by the entire band, especially the lovely guitarist Ruyter Suys and new recruit KatieLynn Campbell were astonishing. Suys, stripped down to her skivvies, came off as a possessed Southern goddess, and Campbell straddled her bass in a variety of provocative positions. All the while, the group kept dishing out hit after hit of blistering punk’n’roll, never missing a beat.
I could go on about what a great show they put on, especially with Suys deep-throating a bottle of beer after having it poured all over her, but the fact is that I’ve had Pussy on my mind ever since. I can’t help it.

– Raphael di Donato
– Photo by Alyssa Starkey

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