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Cheetah Whores / Press

“The songs are catchy rock 'n' roll little ditties that sound as at home blasting out of a little transistor radio as they do thundering off a stage — where the band's lipstick-smeared sneer and walking-on-a-broken-stiletto-heel-bravado frequently threaten to derail the whole affair. Now that's entertainment.”

“Speaking of the raunch I needed, The Cheetah Whores followed, fueled by tequila and a rabid case of don't-give-a-shit-itis. The band rocked between Cuervo glugs, slugs, and chug-a-lugs. Consequently, tuning and tempo was a little touchy in spots, and the band swung loose. But this is the kind of music that doesn't sound right tight. The crowd that had been wowed by the Diamonds' sparkle scratched its collective head. What's to get? It's rock 'n' roll at its most primal, played by chicks in their underwear. That's burlesque.”

“Like everyone with taste, I tuned into SyFy's Sharktopus a couple of Saturdays ago. But it took me a while to actually watch the movie because I rewound the opening scene half a dozen times because I fell in love with the theme song. It was a perfect mix of surf, garage, punk, and camp, The Creature From The Black Lagoon crashing the Beach Blanket Bingo. Bang Bang Baby is eleven tracks of fun, clocking in just shy of forty minutes. The Cheetah Whores are an awesome mix of classic '70s punk, surf, '50s/'60s girl groups, garage, and psychedelic rock, with every taste and genre accentuated with Therese O's haunting lap steel guitar. The lyrics are at times hilarious, at times serious, dealing with themes as vast as the Cheetah Whores' influences: murder, dive bars, crappy ex-boyfriends, even crappier jobs, bat cancer, dangerous girls you'd be foolish not to get to know better, and the famous Sharktopus. ”

“February 11, 2010 at 10:51am CONCERT REVIEW: Cheetah Whores, Velvet Elvis at Water Street By Frank De Blase It wasn't a huge crowd, but I was still impressed with the hundred or so who braved the outdoor suction to catch the Cheetah Whores with Velvet Elvis at The Club at Water Street Wednesday night. "I'm here to support the Whores," I overheard a girl say as she handed her ticket over at the door. "You gotta love the Whores." And I do. I mean, who doesn't? This band is a beautiful disaster that prevails in spite of itself. To watch the band play is to see it teeter on various precipices. And the direction the band is taking lately has seen it switch from a soul train to a lowrider. The sound seethes with a primal, psycho-sexual beat. It reminds me a bit of The Cramps. The lap steel is a nice touch, especially when wielded as a theremin. The vocals are a nice touch when wielded as a come-on. The drums are a nice touch when wielded like a tantrum. ”