There’s something about a Nashville Pussy show that hits different on a Tuesday night. Maybe it’s because you know damn well you should be home doing something responsible like catching up on emails, walking the dog, pretending to meal prep but instead you’re crammed shoulder to shoulder in a Virginia rock club surrounded by people who made the same bad decision. And thank God for that.
Leesburg’s Tally Ho Theater was packed tight and loud on Oct. 7 when the Georgia-bred hellraisers brought their Southern-fried sleaze rock circus to town, and for a glorious hour and a half, nobody gave a damn about anything except volume, beer, and attitude.
Before Nashville Pussy even hit the stage, the air already felt combustible. The Tally Ho isn’t a massive room, but it has that perfect warmth that makes guitars sound like chainsaws and cymbals bite like teeth. The place was buzzing with the kind of anticipation that comes from knowing exactly what you’re about to get and still not being quite ready for it.
Drew Cagle and The Reputation opened the night, and to their credit, they weren’t intimidated in the least. They walked out looking hungry and played like they had something to prove, which is exactly what you want from an opener before bands like Nashville Pussy and Buckcherry.
Their sound sits somewhere between modern hard rock and that gritty post-grunge revival that’s been bubbling under lately with tight hooks, a little southern drawl, and plenty of swagger. Drew Cagle himself worked the stage like a seasoned frontman, leaning into the crowd, throwing out those “you with me?” looks that make even the most jaded fans nod along. They left a solid mark and got the blood pumping, which is really all an opening act can do on a night like this. And then came the chaos.
When Nashville Pussy took the stage, it was like someone flipped a breaker in the room. Blaine Cartwright stomped out first, trademark black hat pulled low, his guitar slung just a little too low, that classic “don’t care, do care” energy that defines him. Behind him, Jeremy Thompson cracked his snare like a starter pistol while Bonnie Buitrago planted herself with that bass stance that says, “I dare you to look away.”
And then Ruyter Suys stormed on with that wild shock of blonde curls, Les Paul cocked high and suddenly everything felt very, very alive.
They didn’t bother easing into it. The band opened with “Pussy’s Not a Dirty Word,” and the crowd went full tilt from note one. The song’s been an anthem for them since forever, and it still sounds like the kind of statement most bands wouldn’t have the guts to make. Suys ripped through the solo like she was lighting a fuse under the stage, Cartwright growling through every line with that whiskey-soaked snarl that somehow never loses its edge.
By the time they hit “Piece of Ass,” the temperature inside the Tally Ho was somewhere between sauna and sin. It’s a filthy, swaggering tune that feels like it crawled straight out of a biker bar jukebox, and Suys owned it. She played her guitar like it owed her money, spinning and swinging her hair in perfect time with the beat. It’s wild; there’s no choreography and no pretense but somehow it all lines up like clockwork.
Stream “Piece of Ass” by Nashville Pussy on YouTube:
“She’s Got the Drugs” followed, and that one had this gritty, almost punk groove that hit especially hard live. Cartwright’s voice cracked just enough to make it sound dangerous, and Bonnie’s bass thumped like a heartbeat you could feel in your ribs. Somewhere near the bar, a guy spilled his beer, shrugged, and kept headbanging. That’s the vibe at a Nashville Pussy show: no pretense, no filters, just rock and roll the way it was meant to be; loud, dirty, and maybe a little stupid in the best way possible.
“Come On Come On” and “Speed Machine” kicked things into overdrive. The band doesn’t do ballads, they do accelerants. You can feel the pace climbing with every song, like the whole set is designed to make you sweat. “High as Hell” was exactly what it promised: fuzzed-out riffs, southern twang, and the unmistakable scent of someone’s vape cloud that didn’t come from a tobacco shop. Suys shredded through that one with such ferocity that Cartwright had to step back and just grin. He knows when to let her have the spotlight and she takes it like she was born in it.
Now, let’s talk about “Gonna Hitchhike Down to Cincinnati and Kick the Shit Outta Your Drunk Daddy.” The title alone is enough to make you laugh, but hearing it live is a whole different thing. It’s basically a three-minute distillation of everything that makes Nashville Pussy great; absurd humor, southern storytelling, and raw, relentless energy.
Blaine introduced it with a smirk and a little ramble about “family values gone wrong,” and the crowd ate it up. Suys’ solo was fire and brimstone rolled into one, bending notes like a preacher speaking in tongues.
After that, “Testify” felt almost spiritual, in a dirty, backwoods kind of way. It’s their take on salvation, not through prayer, but through volume and vice. People were clapping, shouting, like some kind of half-drunk, half-holy communion.
There’s something worth mentioning about Ruyter Suys that photos and videos never fully capture. She doesn’t just play, the girl performs. Every motion is a punctuation mark, every note looks like it’s being ripped out of her bones. Watching her tear into “Struttin’ Cock” and “Hate and Whiskey,” you remember why live music still matters. There’s no algorithm for that kind of chaos.
“Struttin’ Cock” was nasty fun, that thick, chunky riff filling the whole room like a diesel engine idling too loud in your driveway. And “Hate and Whiskey”? That one just sounded like its title. You could practically smell the bar fights and bad decisions baked into it. The crowd was shouting every line, voices hoarse, beers sloshing, like we’d all suddenly joined the band.
Stream “Struttin’ Cock” by Nashville Pussy on YouTube:
By “Pillbilly Blues,” the night had hit that beautiful stretch where time stops mattering.
Bonnie’s bass was huge on this one, deep, rolling, and mean, while Blaine and Ruyter traded licks like dueling pistols. The sound was so thick it rattled your fillings.
They hit the home stretch hard, barely pausing between songs. “Till the Meat Falls Off the Bone” was pure southern sleaze, that kind of swampy blues riff that makes you want to stomp something. Blaine’s growl cut through like gravel through glass, and Ruyter played with that reckless joy that makes her one of the best in the business. She just let it rip, her guitar screaming through feedback while Thompson pounded out a relentless beat behind her. It was messy, loud, and perfect.
The whole night built up to “Go Motherfucker Go,” which felt like the only way they could possibly end it. That song is their war cry; short, mean, and loud as hell. People who hadn’t moved all night were suddenly jumping, shouting, throwing devil horns. When the final chord hit, it was like the room exhaled all at once in a messy, glorious release.
There’s a timelessness to Nashville Pussy that’s weirdly comforting. They’re not chasing trends or streaming numbers; they’re keeping something alive that the world still desperately needs; unfiltered, high-octane, unapologetic rock and roll. You can draw a straight line from them to every great outlaw act that ever refused to clean up for radio: Motörhead, AC/DC, ZZ Top in their dirtiest days and they carry that torch proudly, middle finger high.
Watching them in a small club like Tally Ho Theater, where you can see the sweat fly off Ruyter’s guitar and feel the kick drum shaking your beer, is a reminder that rock’s not supposed to be polite. It’s supposed to be loud enough to piss off your neighbors. It’s supposed to leave your ears ringing and your voice shot the next morning.
And for one rowdy Tuesday in Leesburg, Virginia, the dirtiest band in rock and roll made damn sure we remembered what it means to testify at the altar of noise.
Setlist
1. Pussy’s Not a Dirty Word
2. Piece of Ass
3. She’s Got the Drugs
4. Come On Come On
5. Speed Machine
6. High as Hell
7. Gonna Hitchhike Down to Cincinnati and Kick the Shit Outta Your Drunk Daddy
8. Testify
9. Struttin’ Cock
10. Hate and Whiskey
11. Pillbilly Blues
12. Till the Meat Falls Off the Bone
13. Go Motherfucker Go
Here are some photos of Nashville Pussy opening Buckcherry at Tally Ho Theater on Oct. 7, 2025. All pictures copyright and courtesy of Michael Sprouse/ Odd Rocker Photography.
Here are some photos of Drew Cagle and The Reputation opening Buckcherry at Tally Ho Theater on Oct. 7, 2025. All pictures copyright and courtesy of Michael Sprouse/ Odd Rocker Photography.
