Nashville Pussy are the American Motörhead.
If Lemmy was here, he’d tell you as much. Rising from the ashes of Kentucky-fried rural hardcore band Nine Pound Hammer in the late 1990s, the quartet exploded onto the underground rock scene and shattered every preconceived notion about how rock’n’roll was supposed to look, sound and act in the postgrunge era. They were like Chuck Berry with rabies, or maybe the Ramones zonked on moonshine and sunstroke. They were American werewolves on wheels who breathed fire, swapped spit and bludgeoned their audience with sex, sleaze and neck-snapping riffs. They were every teenage rock’n’roll dream brought to towering, terrifying life. That was 20 years ago, and since then they’ve never stopped, never faltered or even slowed down.
