There are about three bands I’m interested in seeing live
these days. Well, that may be a bit of
an understatement. I’d see anything on
Voodoo Rhythm’s label, so that’s a stable of bands. The other two are Death in June and NashvillePussy. When I got word that Nashville
Pussy was coming to Humboldt in February (Valentine's Week, no less), I was filled with the kind of internal conflict
you only read about in literature or see in movies like Twilight or Throw Momma From
the Train.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see the band. Far from it.
The problem was that there were two things keeping me from buying a
ticket. One: there would be people
there. I hate people. I don’t mind them individually, but put them
in a group and suddenly what was tolerable on a one-on-one basis produces the
most murderous thoughts in my mind. As
if the fact that Nashville Pussy wasn’t putting on a personal show for me
wasn’t enough, there was the second problem:
the venue, which was Hum Brews … in Arcata, California. Arcata is one of those places I do my best to
avoid. The people, the “vibe,” and even
the town’s layout makes me froth at the mouth as if imitating Cujo. If Al Qaeda was taking a poll of places one
would most like a dirty bomb to be detonated, Arcata would have my vote. Sayonara, Trust Fund Babies.
Then there was the fact that it was on Sunday night and I
had to be at work early Monday morning.
That barely registered on the radar, as I usually only get three to four
hours of sleep a night, but I’d be lying to say that time wasn’t a factor.
I remained conflicted right about up until the show
date. It seemed like an easy choice –
just fucking go. It really doesn’t get
much easier than that. For me, however,
the cons were outweighing the positives.
Arcata. People. In order to help mitigate this mental
stalemate, I decided to repeatedly call Hum Brews. I figured if the show started just about on
time and there was no opening band, I could actually tolerate the event. So, a few days prior to the show I started
calling, and must have done so about five times. Every time I called I spoke to someone
different. Every time I got the same
answer. Band takes the stage at nine. No opening band. I figured that really meant the band would go
on at 9:30, but I was convinced there would be no lame-ass opener. I was partially right.
Butter Licker, RC/DC and I arrived at Hum Brews around ten
of eight. Why? None of us knew. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I do know it wasn’t to take in Arcata’s atmosphere. College kids who can’t handle their organic
liquor and aimless thirtysomethings whose chief goal in life is to win the Pot
Olympics are hardly people I want to converse with in any capacity other than
to say, “Sorry I ran over you with my car.”
Since the show wasn’t set to start for about another hour, we waited,
watched hockey coverage on television and had discussions about the fluid
nature of reality and stealing artwork.
(Butter Licker did not like my example of the brain not being able to
react properly to what it was seeing, and RC/DC did not appreciate my approval
of art theft.)
About quarter after nine, the doors to the band area opened
and we are the first through after paying our admission. My initial thought was that the area was
small and the stage far too compact. A bar
at the back of the room promised that if the music wasn’t your thing,
overpriced drinks could soothe your savage soul. We ended up taking a seat against the far
wall. I figured the band would take the
stage in about fifteen minutes, sweat like hell, and we’d call it an evening.
By the time 10:30 reared its head, I was getting antsy. The guy who let us through the doors had told
me that Nashville Pussy’s rider said “no openers,” but when the band members
got there they were apparently surprised by the fact that there was no opening
band. My guess is that they expected to
go on around 10:30 because that would give the opening band time to do its
magic. When the musicians saw there was
no opener they took it easy backstage and then came out to kick ass.
The crowd was small, though I wasn’t too surprised. Arcata, while playing host to a lot of
various musical acts, has little in the way of what I would call “good taste in
music.” Stale hip hop, faux indie
a-go-go, and the ever-present reggae crap is the town’s musical backbone and it
leaves much to be desired, though the people eat it up and little else. The band took to the stage, however, and just
started blasting through its sleazy Southern rock as if it were playing to an
arena-sized crowd. One song after another
with little banter in between. There was
a moment when the singer, Blaine Cartwright, dedicated a song to Humboldt
because he’s a lifelong “pothead” and we’ve been keeping the quality up and
making America realize weed isn’t so bad.
(I guess those aimless thirtysomethings have something they can take
pride in after all. Let’s hear it for
personal achievements!) Nashville Pussy
played a bunch of my favorites. “Go to
Hell.” “Hitchhike Down to Cincinnati and
Kick the Shit Out of Your Drunk Daddy,” “Wrong Side of a Gun,” “Struttin’ Cock”
and so on. Beautiful. Insane.
Tight. I had reviewed some of the
band’s work back when I used to write for Tattoo Savage, and I can safely say the years have done little to slow the act
down. That said, there was a new
addition to the band that caught my attention.
 |
| Butter Licker snapped this of Buitrago in action. |
All in all, I made it through the night without gutting
someone and had a pretty damn good time.
Nobody from Arcata attempted any kind of lame conversation with me, much
to both of our good fortune, though Butter Licker was touched by someone she
and RC/DC dubbed “Molester.” Arcata
didn’t give me some rare disease, either, and the only downside of the night
was the ringing in my ears that served as a reminder that I was at a great show.
Still, fuck Arcata.
Enjoy the dirty bomb.
Mandatory FTC Disclaimer: I paid to get in the show. Clicking on a link can earn me a commission.
Mandatory FTC Disclaimer: I paid to get in the show. Clicking on a link can earn me a commission.
