Black Pussy / Vista Chino Tour Show Review

     Even if we were full of expendable carbs, able to tear-ass around the room like a cat fresh off its morning shit, Black Pussy would’ve tapped our energy and sucked us dry. Appearing to be from an Almost Famous casting call, Pussy is one of those bands that grows a couple feet when they set foot on stage. They’re live energy incarnate. The Portland outfit is certainly a better fit for the verdant inclinations of the crowd, diving into jams a la Fu Manchu interpreting one of the lower flying Ford-era dirigibles such as Granicus. Most of their songs end up culminating in a strut recalling “In the Light” or “Stranglehold,” insistently hammering home body-movin’ rhythms while feedback loops soar like fireworks. So legit is their period piece attention to detail, it takes a band member checking his iPhone to remind me what century I’m standing in.

      But, Pussy’s greatest asset is the fact all involved actually look like they love their songs. There’s no better way to ingratiate yourself with an audience than to have a good time. Pussy knows this. The band uses the crowd as a repeater. Ten or so minutes in, the positivity overflows. The keyboardist is ready to copulate with his ivories, gyrating in a fashion that would’ve terrorized the virgin nation in the days of Elvis. The singer sheds his leather vest to give himself more room to stumble around with a smile, possessed by the voodoo of fuzz and classic rock stomps. His pants are as low as pretensions, threatening to spice up the set with a flash of shaft. Yet, the drummer is the magnet. Rarely have I seen someone so caught up in the joy of making music. He’s like “this drummer is at the wrong gig” except he’s totally at the right one. He’s stoner rock’s Thelonious Monk. When the set ends, I look over at my wife and we’re both buoyant. Give us ecstasy over grym disassociation any day.

http://lastrit.es/articles/575/vista-chino-lives

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