FASTER PUSSYCAT
DIRTY 30 TOUR
THE BASEMENT EAST - NASHVILLE
When I got my “Bands in Town”
alert that Faster Pussycat was playing Nashville’s The Basement East on 4/18, I
have to admit, I had a small freak out.
The last time they had been in town (that I knew of/remembered), I was
ridiculously pregnant and not feeling like I wanted Taime Downe to see me in
such a state. Not that he’d ever seen me
in any state at all. But I figured that just
in case he did see me and ask me to go on tour with them, it would be better to
just stay home, give birth with my husband present, and catch them the next
time around. So upon learning the
news, I immediately texted my trusted hair metal concert pal, who
bought our $10 (!!!!!!!!!!!!) tickets and exclaimed, “This is awesome! It’s like they’re paying us to go!”
I had been curious what the “Rare
Hare” listed on the event notification actually meant. I just figured it was a play on words
honoring the AquaNet addiction of 80s glam rockers. But turns out, Rare Hare is actually a band
of Nashville-based touring musicians who play hairband covers. Who knew?
And why the hell Faster Pussycat opened
for a cover band, I still don’t
know. But whatever the reason, it was a
god-send for a mom who is usually in bed, drooling on her pillow, by 9pm.
The show began about 45 minutes
after the stated start time of 8pm – which is not too bad considering I’ve had
to wait a lot longer than that for bands.
The thing is, I have a problem with needing to be at a venue with at
least 30 minutes before a show is supposed to start. 15 minutes is my absolute limit before major
anxiety ensues and shit hits the fan. This
disorder usually results in me standing around for at least an hour and a half and dropping
at least $20 more on drinks. I know this, yet still I insist. This time, however, my friend had the tickets, so I was at his mercy. And he was running late.
By the time he pulled up at 7:55pm, I was borderline psychotic.
But I maintained, and as soon as we got up to the door,
John Corabi, former Motley Crue replacement singer and now Nashville resident,
totally cut line in front of us. But it
was cool because he did apologize, and he was really just trying to stand next
to his wife, which was super adorbs. I
am still thanking the 8 lb, 6 oz newborn baby Jesus that I had only had one beer
before heading to the Eastside; otherwise I have no doubt that I would’ve forced
Corabi to trade insider dirt about Nikki Sixx for the spot in line. At which point, of course, my husband would have
grabbed me by the shoulders, steered me back to our car, and taken me back to
the ‘burbs.
Luc Carl, hot mullet guy/radio
personality/former lover of Lady Gaga (google that shit), introduced the band by letting all the
men in the audience know that they were idiots if they brought their chicks
with them to the show because Faster Pussycat is the sleaziest band ever to
crawl up out of the gutters of the Sunset Strip. I’m paraphrasing and not doing Mr.
Carl justice, but you get the point. A
metal version of Antoine Dodson’s famous rant warning citizens to “hide yo'
wives, hide yo' kids”.
So when a dark-haired guy wearing
a bandana and all black walked on the stage and strapped on his guitar, I
wasn’t sure what to expect. After all, I
grew up with the cherubic Brent Muscat as the FPC guitarist (along with Greg
Steele). And if you don’t know who Brent
Muscat is, just imagine a big smile, big eyes, and downright
un-threatening presence. Like, seriously - any child, no matter how many times her mama warned her about strangers, would take candy from Brent. But when the "new guy"
turned around, his face was actually just as sweet. Oh, he was trying to be a dirty rocker, what with his
eyeliner and raccoon tail clipped to his jeans, but he wasn't foolin' me.
None of the folks on the stage at
this point – lead guitarist, Ace von Johnson; drummer, Chad Stewart, bassist,
Danny Nordahl; or guitarist, Xristian Simon, had been in the original FPC line
up, though some of them have been touring with Taime Downe, lead singer and
former blonde, for over 15 years. So, of
course, the crowd was on pins and needles waiting for Taime’s entrance. And what an entrance it was. The fans packed up against the stage were
going wild. These were hard-core Faster
Pussycat fans, and I have to admit, I really didn’t know that was a
“thing”. And I mean, I really dig Faster Pussycat.
But, like, I’m afraid for these people’s lives if FPC ever breaks up. I’m not sure how they’re going to go on. And this isn't a slam against these folks. I've got nothing but mad respect for that kind of dedication.
Taime has adopted a darker,
biker, semi-gothic look over the years, in contrast to his more feminine
make-up palette and “jacked up to Jesus” blonde tresses of the late 80s/early
90s. And it’s cool. It works for him. I mean, please. He’s Taime Downe. He does what he wants - including chain
smoking American Spirits throughout the entire set at a non-smoking
establishment.
So when he sauntered onto the stage
like it was 1990 and “House of Pain” (their highest Billboard charting single)
was on the MTV every 10 minutes, I knew I was in for a treat. The band began by playing the iconic intro to
Led Zeppelin’s “When the Levee Breaks”, before launching into “Jack the
Bastard” off their 1992 Whipped!
album. It’s a great song, but never made
any mainstream waves due to the grunge take-over that was in full effect during
that time. Taime held his hands up and
out to the side like he was a god and to be worshipped. And worshipped he was. The guy sounded really good. The band was
tight (at least to my <untrained> ear – my husband would probably have
some sort of critique, but, I’m sorry, is he
in a band that’s survived in one form or another for 30 years?). Ace von Johnson’s stage presence was super hot
and on-point for a lead guitarist -- complete with back bends, spitting, and
pick-throwing. I was a little nervous
that I could have technically given birth to the guy, but now that I know he’s
only 8 years younger than me, I feel a little less pervy.
A mix of hits and a few lesser
known tunes (at least to the non- hardcore FPC fans) followed, including a fun
punk rock interlude led by my new secret lover, Ace. They played all my old favs – “Cathouse”,
“Babylon”, “House of Pain”, “Slip of the Tongue”, and “Bathroom Wall”. Noticeably absent were "Where There's a Whip, There's a Way", as well as “Poison Ivy” (which I
maintain is a severely underrated song and one of just a handful of tunes in rock history that's able to successfully reference calamine lotion). But
overall, the set list was solid and more than pleased the crowd. I was selfishly hoping that they would pull out "Please Dear" from the Wake Me When It's Over vault, but no such luck.
Fortunately, any lingering disappointment from not hearing "my song" quickly dissipated when Taime shook up his bottle of Bud and unleashed it on an
unsuspecting crowd. Well, I mean, *I* - having never seen them in concert
until now - was unsuspecting. This may be
standard for Taime, but it was a first for me.
And it was freaking awesome. My husband grumbled in the car about how
he now needed to take a shower before bed.
But not me. I decided I was gonna hold onto that for the rest of the night.
Because while I didn’t get to hang around after the show and meet Taime or
any of the rest of the band (I was paying a babysitter more than my damn ticket
had cost), I did have his beer on my
shirt. Not to mention that I caught the guitar
pick that Ace von Johnson clearly threw directly
at me. I mean, not really. But I’ll just hold onto that,
too.
Until the Sebastian Bach show on
5/11 -
Jen
