Nashville band Heavy Cream started out as a t-shirt to me. One of the Jeff The Brotherhood bros had a Heavy Cream shirt on when they were last here at the studio in Rock Island. It was scuzzed up a bit and appropriately tour-stained. It was dirty in a way that made me think that perhaps this group that it was depicting might have actually sold it or - more likely - given it to him that way. Immediately, they conjured to me the very idea of youth and decadence. They brought to mind a group of smart-mouthed kids who were determined to ever take an order from anyone and to always feel like they're fighting the urge to draw dicks on toilet stall walls or into the muddy grime of dirty cars or trucks parked out on the street. There's no way of knowing whether they perform such antics without being very blunt about it, but it's no matter because the mystery of the thing is better anyway. What Heavy Cream has turned out to be is a lot of what the t-shirt first brought to mind, along with twice as much energy and blaze. It's punk rock that's filled with teenage restlessness that feels a lot like Evel Knievel's motorcycle jump over the Caesars Palace fountain. It feels like more than just that one motorcycle and you get the feeling that Heavy Cream likes it that way. It feels like dried and caked blood at the corner of a lip, just in front of a mischievous grin that comes from knowing that they both had it coming and still laid just as good of a licking on the other guy - or in this case, probably a girl. These ladies and guy are pumped full of vigor and these sorts of wily grins. The rescue all of the black cats they can find from the local shelters, raising them to be hissy and ornery, but happy. They use them as muses for their tales of grittiness without concessions.