Event Details
Monday, December 16th
Doors: 8:00 PM
Music: 8:30 PM
Price: $35
Thunderpussy
What is fire? From a scientific standpoint, many still aren’t sure. Heat and light, dancing and flare. We can describe its chemical reaction, but why—yes, why—it looks as it does, that’s still a deep curiosity. Fire, with its impossible to predict form, is a mystery. Fire is also West, the new studio album from the Seattle-born rock and roll group Thunderpussy. The band breathes it. Cultivates, tames and scorches with it.
Fire, in the contemporary linguistic sense, is also a sign of all that is good. It’s that good burn. So, in that way, listeners of West are in for a titillating treat. The new LP begins with a promise. An internal affirmation, a hopeful prayer. Lithe lead singer Molly Sides declares, her voice like flame on the track, “I can do better.” Her sound, like her literal body onstage, bends and shifts. Incandescent. As lead guitar player Whitney Petty performs a rumbling echo, like felled timber.
Fire is the sign of sustenance. It's no wonder, then, why Thunderpussy has earned attention from the important outlets in music culture. Yes, Rolling Stone has called the band “classic-rock muscle” focusing on the all-female group’s “soulful vocals and punk energy.” NPR Music has gone as far to dub the outfit “everything you want in rock,” noting that Thunderpussy is “raw, spontaneous, bombastic, outrageous” and that they will “take your breath away.”
Like flame, itself, Thunderpussy is all consuming and knowingly so. The second song on the new record, “Firebreather” is an aptly titled rage. The kind of roar that begins with both crackle and spark before it becomes an entire reality. An inferno of dynamism. But not all fires must swallow you whole. Some alight and twinkle. The band’s new album includes the third track, “Put Your Hands On Me,” a bluesy offering that hearkens back to hearths of older histories.
The nine-track vinyl record (the band’s second studio album) continues—somehow not melting under the heat of the sexy, smoldering four-piece—with “Sallie Mae,” a song that recalls party rock tunes from the past. Thunderpussy, which won a recent case in the Supreme Court over its name and trademark, is a “revelation, if not quite a revolution,” writes The Guardian. Indeed, the wheels of regeneration turn via steam and electricity. These are all functions of fire. All of which the Seattle-born rock band can assume in the blink of a glinting eye.
Shimmer and symphony meet on the album’s titular track, “West,” an elegant respite from the sweat-inducing four leading up to it. “West” is a small prop plane crossing the sky, nearly unnoticed. Mountains endangering its existence. But little do we know its precious cargo. Unleashed, each note, each pulled string, allows the energy of the gods to unfurl. Ra, Nyambe, Zhurong, Agneya, Amaterasu, Turgman, Hestia and Prometheus are all its passengers.
Thunderpussy is acquainted with the greats, from the mythological to the living and breathing. The band, which is championed by Pearl Jam lead guitarist Mike McCready, among many others, can part the clouds to let the sunlight through like a smile. The LP’s sixth song, “Misty Morning,” is proof. It’s tribal, a call to the horizon. Like Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir,” it’s devotion forged in rhythm and melody. The great star beats down. Thunderpussy mirrors it back up.
Then “N.E.D.” breaks everything. A wrecking ball of flame. The world, at times, needs to fall to its knees. Thunderpussy obliges. But then people need resilience, rejuvenation. Enter: “In Your Honor,” a reflective, nostalgic number with an incandescent, incessant drumbeat reminiscent of purposeful ‘80s rock bands. Some topography cannot be scorched asunder. In the end, the album concludes with “Setting Sail.” The listener is left to reconcile with what just happened. The song reminds of the Beatles had they continued their musical journey into the next decade. But alas Thunderpussy is gone, too. Only trails of smoke to shape your sunset remain.
For the independent rock band, which was formerly signed to Stardog/Republic Records, millions of streams has never been the goal, though they have amassed well into the eight-figures. Yes, for Thunderpussy, streams are the opposite of fire. Tempting temperatures, perspiration and char—these are the signs of accomplishment. These are the building blocks of West. Swallow it, if you dare.
James and the Cold Gun