Record Review - 1 August 08 2001

Unless you're a professional porn star or wrestler, the answer to the album's titular question is a meek "no ma'am." That's 'cause this raunchy quartet of oversexed, ear-bleeding tattooed love grrrls take their guys with a quart of whiskey and a swaggering wallop to the crotch.

Tougher than the illegitimate female offspring of Kiss and the Runaways, Betty Blowtorch is North Hollywood's scruffy answer to '70s wimp-pop. In other words, gin-soaked, grimy rock 'n' roll with nods to the NY Dolls, AC/DC and '80s hair metal. It's what you'd expect from a band whose leadoff song declares, "We're a bunch of horny fuckin' bitches," sung by Bianca Butthole against Blare N. Bitch's screaming guitars.

They don't quite make Nashville Pussy sound like Josie & the Pussycats, but there's a healthy dose of Spinal Tap-ish self-deprecation here that keeps BB's absurdity in check. "We've got no integrity, but we sure do look good," they admit and who's going to argue, especially when they tap Vanilla Ice for a savvy cameo to rap about the extent of his willy in "Size Queen."

Trashy and ephemeral, these women crank out a rollicking chorus with the best Joan Jett-worthy glee, even brazenly naming songs with the cliched "Rock My World" and "Rock 'n' Roll 69," as if they were reinventing the glam-trash wheel for the millennium.

Which they might be. There's something quintessentially rock 'n' roll about singing along to high-decibel schlock like "Shut Up and Fuck" or "I Wish You'd Die" with a loopy smile plastered on your face, while reaching out in vain for the unattainable sex chicks of your wildest wet dreams.

Betty Blowtorch plays the Masquerade Fri., Aug. 10.??