Boy Howdy • The Nerve Magazine • February 2006
Ok loogans, listen up! Forget raw power rock and holy fucking roll; forget psychobilly and durrrrrrrrrty country; don’t even think of emo or grindcore… the new punk rock is upon us and we’re gonna ram it down your greedy lil’ throats. Nerve minions – meet Bernadette Seacrest. She’s got more tats than the sixth fleet; she’s cooler than everyone who will read this, and – backed by her band the Yes Men – she has a voice that could melt even the stankiest slab o’ cheese. This is not your Starbucks n’ SUV-type jazz, mind you, nor is it your mama’s Julie- Londonesque torch songs – although Seacrest’s evolution from LA street kid to torch woman is largely a by-product of being “a tortured woman,” she reveals.
“I had a really brutal childhood,” continues the chanteuse. “Left home at 15, got strung out, blah, blah… The torch songs kill me. Rip my heart out. I love singing them.”
Imagine a voice – gin-soaked and then opiated for good measure – that makes you drift in and out of a sexy place where whips and chains accompany your feathers and silk. A place where Billie Holiday and Big Black can safely coexist.
Still with me kiddies? Like I said, this isn’t your average Jazz Lite [tm] here. Fuck, if it is good enough for Hank Williams III, it should be good enough for you, poindexter. Recalling a show with the youngest Hank, Bernadette says, “Opening up for him was one of the highlights of, not just my music career, but my life. I didn’t talk to him because I was too shy, but I heard he watched our show. We did an encore hillbilly version of “War Pigs”, and brought the god damned house down. He played afterward and killed. I love him!”
Discussing the current state of punk rock – Bernadette caught legends such as X, Fear, Flipper, 45 Grave, Black Flag, Minutemen, Firehose, Fishbone, and Jane’s Addiction, all in their prime – causes the singer to wax nostalgic. Billie Holiday or Billie Joe Armstrong, I ask – who is more punk? “Are you kidding me?” she laughs. “Billie Holiday, hands down. Being an old [40?? – ed] woman, I have to say I don’t really like what has happened to punk rock. And I don’t have anything to say that hasn’t already been said. It’s sad. I really could go off about this shit.” When the conversation later turns to George W, the invective really flies fast and furious. “Don’t get me started. Half this country are a bunch of blithering idiots, proven by Bush’s re-election!”
By way of wrapping up, I ask Bernadette what song she never gets sick of and why? “Man, this is the hardest question so far,” she moans. “Hmm. Why does it always have to be just one? I think that’s fucked up. ‘The Ugly American’ by Big Black,” she decides finally. Why? Bernadette balks at my prodding. “Why?” she snorts, “Listen to it!”
Boy Howdy • The Nerve Magazine • February 2006