Five Hot Bitches

There may only be two women (singer Silver Shuter and bassist Seka Destroy) in the trio that make up Five Hot Bitches but their presence and hilarity make the numbers add up. Thunderous distorted bass worthy of a Napalm Death record and punk rock drumming courtesy of Toby Thistle inspired Shuter into one of the most impressive displays of estrogen-heavy James Brown moves ever. Visually stunning and full of as much gusto as they were kitsch, these Bitches belted out tongue-in-cheek sarcasm for a wildly enthusiastic capacity crowd. They ruled the late-night roost. - Exclaim! Keith Carman

You know how the Ben Folds Five were really only three people? Well, this is sort of like that, except instead of nerdy, overly precious dudes you have two hot bitches and an honorary bitch on drums. And instead of nerdy, overly precious indie pop, you get dirty, sexy rock 'n' roll, puppets and costume changes.
With pounding songs about licking, sucking and fucking, the Bitches bring a Peaches-style sexuality to the world of rock. If you don't think that sounds cool, then you have no soul or libido.
Any band can take the piss out of the sponsor of their showcase, but it takes real balls (or, more appropriately, ovaries) to cover Hawkwind's "Death Trap" and change the lyrics to "Death Pill" when said sponsor is Plan B (the morning after pill). The fact that that moment didn't' seem out of place in the rest of the set is a real testament to just how brassy, funny and awesome Five Hot Bitches really are.
With a loud, sloppy, Death From Above-style bass and drum attack and the aforementioned Peaches-style lyrics, the Bitches deliver dirty rock in tight, short packages that never overstay their welcome and always leave the audience wanting more.
With a cockfighting puppet, a costume change, a dance move, a smoke machine and helpful lyric sheets to encourage singalongs, Five Hot Bitches know exactly how to keep an audience entertained and engaged. - CHART, Sarah Kurchak

FIVE HOT BITCHES

(May 18, Gladstone Hotel) Apparently this show was some kind of artists' soiree (dubbed the Fool's Luck Party), with cutesy wares being sold from carefully arrayed booths. But when the Sabbath-y, Ramones-infused Five Hot Bitches (actually a bass/drums/vocals female trio) hit the stage, you could almost taste the fear among the crowd of comic-book nerds and knitting enthusiasts. Caveman rhythms and monstrously distorted low-end marked "Cock Fight," while smutty ditties like "Hot Bitch Sundae" and "Addiction To Friction" boasted near-brown note decibel levels. After a pummelling 30 minutes, a super-brief take on Black Flag's "Wasted" was offered before disoriented audience members were left to reflect on where their lives had gone so terribly wrong. CHRIS ROLFE - EYE Weekly