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Black Cat Nine King of the Hill __________________________________________________ |
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On “King of the Hill”, BC9 inject even more metal
firepower than usual into their arsenal, as evidenced by the militant Metalli-thrash of the heavy-devy “Less is More”, the rugged sleaze metal
of “Nothing But Hate” - which sounds like either Shotgun Messiah or
COC,
depending on how loud you crank it - and the apocalyptic Nashville
Pussy-meets-their-maker redneck metal freak-for-all “Pieces”. Then there’s
even louder, meaner shit, like the chaos-baiting, noiseadelic “Helpless”
and the sinister, Earth AD-era Misfits punk flail of “Scratch That Itch”.
But, you know, it's all rock n’ roll, horny and greasy and lookin’ for kicks
at any cost, so if ya like weekend-long house parties and booze and
motorcycles and girls in skin-tight miniskirts – or any combination
thereof, really- then do yourself a favor and scour yr local dark alleys
for this here Gatto Nero. It’s rock and roll that ain’t afraid to fuckin’
rock. |
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-Sleazegrinder |
Just like the coyote that ate all yr chickens last
Fall, Italian cock rock sinstitution Black Cat Nine are back with another
dozen odes-to-their-dicks set to a rollicking flash metal soundtrack that
treats the pursuit of decent party on Saturday night like it was a quest
for the fuckin’ Holy Grail. BC9 are part metal-studded biker rock – think
Junkyard – and part Crue-fried retro arena-glam, and they absolutely do
not care what you think about them, one way or the other. They look like
the dirty black summer of 1988, they sound like confetti cannons and red
leather, and they smell like endorsement deals with Jack Daniels. They are
so utterly shameless in their adoration for cowbells and chicks that even
Aquanet thinks they’re overdoing it.