Magic Mustache : Cack Blabbath Review

Well the first thing I can say about Black Pussy, is that you want to be REALLY careful about what you type into Google if you’re wanting to read more about the Portland sludgemongers.

Drawing their name from the original title of the Rolling Stones’ Brown Sugar this is a band you may initially approach with a certain degree of trepidation but according to the accompanying blurb creative mastermind Dustin Hill “isn’t willing to entertain the notion that the band intends to offend anyone”. Just in case you missed that, their FB bio states “Black Pussy does not condone or endorse any sexism, racism, ageism, violence, or any other douchebaggery that has been spoiling the party since the party started”.

OK, we’ll take his word for it.

First impressions of Magic Mustache are that this is a band who doff an entire hatstand full of millinery to their psychedelic and stoner forefathers. Setting their stylistic stall out early they kick things off with the 11 minute plus Butterfly which channels a classic space-rock vibe, opening with a discordant cacophony before the riff pushes its way through and the ghost of Robert Calvert drifts in and out of ethereal focus. It’s one of those tracks that throws in a couple of curve-balls too, with things getting progressively more rock and uptempo and less stoner as they progress.

There’s something engaging about Black Pussy’s heavy, slightly fuzzy round the edges, blues sound. Their debut album that came out a couple of years ago was a fairly straightforward affair but by 2015 the evolution in their sound is obvious. It’s still stoner but there is a generous bucketfull of rock’n’roll panache in there too. It makes it, for want of a better word, catchy. You know those arena-filling riffs that stick in your head and won’t bugger off ? Well Black Pussy are “guilty” of that too, expect foot tapping and head nodding aplenty.

Anything labelled “stoner” just shouldn’t be quite this upbeat. Hill describes it as “stoner pop” which given the whole Kyuss meets QOTSA vibe running through the album isn’t a bad description.

It’s an album that contains a good slice of old fashioned epicness, as much at home on a big festival stage (Hellfest, they’d be perfect for Hellfest) as it would be in a little club with swirly psychedelic lights and lots of men with beards smoking “herbal” cigarettes.

And to top things off, everything sounds simply brilliant. I think this is largely down to the fact that the band exclusively use vintage gear and have shied away from a modern, shiny production job in favour of something that sounds more organic and which fits what they do.

Still not entirely sure about the name, but I’m totally convinced by the music. Black Pussy are a band you NEED to check out..

Just be careful what you Google.

- ryan | No Comments