I first crossed paths with the rock and roll juggernaut that is Nashville Pussy  back in 1998 when I picked up a copy of their debut album, Let Them Eat Pussy. That, my friends, is one smoking record. Go Motherfucker Go, Fried Chicken and Coffee and a sublime cover of the Smokey Robinson penned, First I Look at the Purse. A couple years later their cover of Highway to Hell hit me over the head with a brick like some kind of sonic Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster.

Nashville Pussy are the bastard sons and daughters of Bon Scott and Motorhead.

Nashville Pussy are rock and roll.

Now, some twenty-six years later, we’ve been reunited and it feels so good. Coming across Come On Come on, was like running into an old friend at the bar. We picked up right where left off. My faith in rock and roll is restored and all is right in the world.

Listen to it. Loudly.