Reverend Horton Heat with Nashville Pussy, Backyard Tire Fir...

2008-04-17 19:00:00 - 2008-04-17 00:00:00

Reverend Horton Heat - $20

with Nashville Pussy, Backyard Tire Fire

Doors open at 7:00pm

Undeniably, The Reverend Horton Heat, aka Jim Heath, is the biggest, baddest, grittiest, greasiest, greatest rocker that ever piled his hair up and pounded the drinks down. Without question, for all of his outlandish antics, blistering stage performances and legendary musical prowess, the one thing The Rev always gets asked about is the story behind his unusual and rather clerical moniker. "Well, there used to be this guy who ran this place in Deep Ellum, Texas who used to call me Horton- my last name is Heath," says The Rev. "Anyway, this guy hired me and right before the show he goes, 'Your stage name should be Reverend Horton Heat! Your music is like gospel'... and I thought it was pretty ridiculous. So I'm up there playing and after the first few songs, people are saying, 'Yeah, Reverend!' What's really funny is that this guy gave up the bar business, and actually became a preacher! Now he comes to our shows and says, 'Jim, you really should drop this whole Reverend thing.'"

It's been an almost 20-year journey for Heath, whose country-flavored punkabilly and onstage antics have brought him and his band a strikingly diverse fan base and a devoted cult following, not to mention the respect of fellow musicians worldwide. Revival, the band's first release for Yep Roc Records, is a return to Heath's roots - musical and geographical.

It’s been said that the devil has all the best tunes, but that’s not the case anymore, since a lil’ ol’ band from Georgia -- known to friends and followers as Nashville Pussy -- found a way to pick the lock on that storehouse of demonic sonics and make off with some of its most incendiary contents.

While they’ve been at it for the better part of the decade, the band -- fronted by the hard-livin’ hard-rockin’ husband/wife team of Blaine Cartwright and Ruyter Suys -- has never been more intensely supercharged than on Get Some. The disc, their fourth full-length and first for Spitfire, offers heaping helpings of neck-snapping guitar riffage and a full-on embrace of the sort of good-time decadence that’s part and parcel of life below the Mason-Dixon line. It also shows off Cartwright's razor-sharp wit, which permeates the disc with laugh-out-loud moments that'd do John Belushi proud.

www.reverendhortonheat.com

www.nashvillepussy.com

www.backyardtirefire.com