Thunder struck

How can you not love a band who contribute to our `degeneration and immorality'?

by John O'Neill

The selling point was easy enough: a press kit declaring the band Alabama Thunder Pussy had been reported by CNN as an example of the "current degeneration and immorality of American music and culture today." Add to that a killer tour poster by the genre's premiere artist, Frank Kozik (who signed the Richmond-based band to his record label, Man's Ruin), and a new, kick-to-the-gut disc Constellation, and it was a no-brainer who was to get a phone call this week. If you're vile enough to catch the ear of Kozik and the attention of network-news meatballs, you gotta be a force to be reckoned with.

"Actually, I don't really know that much [about the CNN report]; we just heard about it. I haven't even seen it," says guitarist Erik Larson. "I understand they flashed the CD up. I think Frank just kind of ran with it."

Fitting, as facts often become myth. And the story of ATP has always been a little confusing anyway, especially for the record-buying public. They're classified by writer-types as part of the burgeoning "Stoner Rock" scene (home to Buckcherry, Fu Manchu, Sixty Watt Shaman, and Kyuss); but nobody is more mystified by their inclusion than is Larson, who shrugs the tag off, figuring "we don't have a political message. It's about having a good time."

Since forming in 1996 -- while Larson was on a tour break from his longtime bread-winning gig as the drummer in Avail -- Alabama Thunder Pussy were born. Though, admittedly, they were nothing more than three bored pals who lived across the street from each other. It didn't matter that they couldn't actually play their instruments, ATP landed the illustrious basement-party circuit. And, two singers later, they ended up on the fast track to something more.

"We played wherever and whenever we could after we got [singer Johnny Throckmorton]. That's when we got hooked up with Man's Ruin," says Larson. "I finally left Avail [after 14 years]. It seemed to me that ATP had a lot of opportunity, and I enjoyed it more. I decided to give up the paycheck and go with my instincts. It was pretty good money, too!"

The boys, who've done plenty of quick-hit gigging, are on their first extended tour (30 dates in 31 days and counting; they hit the Lucky Dog on December 13) and banking on their new disc to deliver them to the top of the heavy-rock scene. Always indebted to their Southern roots, and with previous albums that hinted at Skynyrd and at Little Feat as much as they did Black Sabbath or Motörhead, Constellation (released December 6) finds the band including more under their umbrella of sound. Weighing in at just over an hour long, the disc should help to establish Alabama Thunder Pussy as one in the new metal breed to watch. The album reaches 30 years back to Syd Barrett-style Pink Floyd, a couple of seasons over to Monster Magnet's Powerstrip, and picks on the corpse of Soundgarden for good measure. There's still the good ol' boy, Molly Hatchet on steroids, evident on "Country Song," only now it's mixed in with a healthy dose of punk and is laced with LSD. And, while it does misfire once or twice, Constellation is a much needed shot in the ass that commercial heavy music needs. Just as rap-core devolves into a stale laughability (yeah, yeah, Fred cookie-nookie. Good stuff.), and as Metallica go highbrow in a hope that nobody will notice how mundane they've become, Alabama Thunder Pussy arrive to set things straight and to keep it dirty. Chicks, whiskey, smokes, drugs, three or four chords, and finger waving. All the ingredients are there to build quality rawk music.

"I'm happy with the new album, but I'm kinda scared what people will think about it -- it has a power ballad," Larson says with a laugh. "Major labels only pick up what's hip two years ago, then they bleed it to death. Southern rock is on the rise so they won't touch it for another year and a half. As much as I hate the marketing machine, it's good to get on the radio and TV. Then we bring three-chord rock and roll back. Someone's gonna break. I'm hoping it's us!"

Firemen's Benefit, Part One

Wormtown bands have a long history of pitching in for local benefits. On many an occasion local bands have played for free to help others out. So it was no real surprise this past Saturday night at Dinny's (where I bartend), the first of what will be many benefits was held for the six firefighters lost last week. Thinner, Little Big Wheel, and the Free Radicals each came to their own conclusion that they should donate their time to raise money to support the grieving families.

But on the other end of the spectrum, Boston's Next Big Thing, the Sheila Devine, bagged-out on their show at the Lucky Dog, citing that Worcester "should be in mourning." Never mind the time, effort, and cost that went into putting the gig together (a substantial amount of which went to advertising them), or the lack of time they left to find a replacement band for the bill: if the Devine Ones were so moved by our community's tragedy, why didn't they donate a hunk of their $800 guarantee and play the show? We smell a rat. Seems to us the fact that I-290 was closed down (and turnout could be low) had far more to do with their (wrong) decision than any sense of humanity. We say take your Boston awards and your alterna-buzz and have a nice trip into oblivion.