...did you know there once was a band called Sharon Stone's Pussy? God Bless the Internet. I have prepared this bio:
Like many bands, this brilliant appellation thru which they achieved their greatest fame was not their first, and many others had been tried before they struck that curly blonde gold. It seems their name at the time of their first recording was The Reverend Billy Beaver and the Cuntry Cleavers, but theyd been called many things over the years, struggling for recognition as an untried talentless rock band, and some were none too pleasant. The reference to a reverend was somewhat confusing, they found, but since there was also no actual Billy Beaver, the guys could never understand why some people were confused. But the confusion and their frequent name changes, not to mention their appalling lack of musical skill did combine to keep their exposure and fan base low in the early years. Things began to change for them in 1990 when their new manager, Abraham "Hollyweird" Shaggerstein suggested they update their "thing" when they came to him...but Im getting ahead of myself.
The band of funloving troubadours the world
would one day come to know as Sharon Stones
Pussy started out very humbly amongst the orange forests and strawberry thickets of
After a year or so of annoying the neighbors--an impressive achievement considering that the neighbors were a welding shop, a junkyard, and an animal rendering plant--the band added the brother and sister team of Harold and Rosalind Lipschitz as backup singers, and so early on the historic lineup was complete. They had first called themselves Pipe, and this became PipeLips with the addition of the backup singers. Later, they were Bongwater, 16+1, Afterbirth, Rugged, Decembers Children, KableKar, and Bilge, but despite the catchy names the gigs just didnt come. They went through a dark period beginning in late 88 and through 1989, after the election of George Bush Sr. as president, choosing names like Dead Blue Baby, Rape Victim, and Vomitstain, but that didnt seem to work either, so one day while watching tv coverage of the Jim Bakker and Jimmy Swaggart sex scandals, Lick had the brilliant inspiration to combine religion and sex and southern culcha and that night The Reverend Billy Beaver and the Cuntry Cleavers was born.
That name stuck for a while, although due to
regular spelling mistakes and the aforementioned personnel confusion, they did eventually
seek something a little catchier and more direct, going with Big Beave and the Cleave for a while, then Big
Beaver Lips, and they were using Big Pussy and the Lips just before meeting
Dishonest Abe. Billy's Beaver Cleaver was another short-lived nom de grunge that lasted only long enough for a
one-and-a-half song EP entitled Rainbow Tarpit (cassette release only) and an
aborted three-date tour opening for the opening act for the opening act for the famed
It seems Howey "Home Boy" Knair--du Schitt was struck by a thought while at work one day and though he immediately forgot what it was, he was so stunned by having had a thought that he was stopped cold in his tracks and, lost in amazed near-contemplation, was 92% decapitated by the Hobart 2200 industrial chicken-plucker he normally operated with steady hands and quiet confidence.
Modern emergency medicine miraculously saved his life, and he lived on in a near-vegetative state for almost a week, rising to consciousness just long enough to spell out what had happened with his alphabet soup letters, since he couldnt very well eat anything. Just when it looked like he might survive his horrible mangling, he died, accidentally, rolling over in bed one night before the stitches had set.
The Reverend Billy Beaver sang at his funeral, accompanied by one of the Lips. Rosie was too upset to perform, but Harry joined BB for a song they said was inspired by Home Boy, called Chicken Plucker Blues. His friends, in honoring his memory, vowed never to think again, which resolution was all too easy to keep, as most of them had yet to ever try such a thing in the first place and had no wish to shame their families by being the first of their clan to so foolishly tinker with the dark side...
Renamed The Big Beaver Cleaver, the fellas and Rosie, sequestered in their grief, produced what many cynics and 80s haters called the EP of the decade, Homey DO Play Dat in Licks garage, with a live a cappella rendition of Chicken Plucker Blues on the B side. Dedicated to their late manager, it was a three-song epic newpunk dirge-romp, according to StinkFinger magazine, and literally doubled the groups previous creative output. Media outlets throughout the Southeast promptly and almost unanimously ignored it, rapidly fueling its underground legitimacy.
Meanwhile, the BBC, as they
were hiply known amongst their fan, had re-gathered themselves and, realizing that only
Los Angeles could fully appreciate their quality and realize their dreams, had pressed on,
beginning an energetic go of it out in Californ-eye-ay.
And they steadily made progress, even while being ripped-off by a succession
of smooth-talking yet somehow unscrupulous managers, their fan base growing
exponentially every month so that after a full year of relentless gigging, and a good deal
of gagging, and with time off for Licks recuperation following the electrocutions,
(he did eventually stop the practice which brought him his nickname, or at least
restricted it to his guitar, leaving the amplifiers alone), and the down-time while Mikill
Smarm was awaiting trial (the girl never, um, surfaced to testify, so the
charges were dropped), and also that month that Gnu was just out for a walk
(he said), until finally they were able to count a record 128 people in the audience one
happy evening at Sloppy Seconds, in Van Nuys, doubling their previous best showing the
month before at the annual summer picnic for the Barstow Sanitation Department. In an ironic coincidence that led Lick to be sure
God was on their side, that was the very night that thru a hilarious mix-up the newest and
final name of the band came about. Apparently
the young fellow assigned to place the letters in the bars marquee was obsessing
about a scene in a movie hed recently seen 27 times and distractedly spelled
Sharon Stones Pussy Tonight on the sign, and so many showed up to hear
the *former* Big Pussy and the Lips that, as Harry
remembers, You couldnt even see the floor.
That was a first. One of
those filling floor space was Abe Shaggerstein, or as his colleagues knew him, in a cruel
pun on his "warm" personality, oversized mouth, and incessant preening: Prick
Shagger. And the rest, as they say in
A history of disputes over
missing drugs and missing receipts, missing royalties and missing groupies, missed
airplanes, periods, comas, and missed gigs--most famously, the time in 1994 that Mikill,
Guar, and Gnu completely spaced the bands performance at the White House, occupying
themselves instead for five hours with video karate and motorcycle racing at a mall arcade
in Virginia. A big fan of the
The bands successes
under Hollyweird were notable and notorious, but in fairness to Dishonest Abe,
he took them to heights theyd have otherwise never earned on their songwriting and
performing. His deft management of their
career included an invitation to play at one of the many
While the big hits on the
radio were extremely few and far between, those from cruel fate seemed to just keep on
coming. On election night 1996 Lick, in a
moment of drunken celebration, fell off his wagon and made out with a rented
The group de fois grace had come when Sharon Stone
herself sued the band and Dishonest Abe for defamation of coochie, after one of the
unfortunate incidents with naked homeless women, (a stunt that could only have been
dreamed up by Hollyweird) went horribly awry and was widely publicized. Abe sent the guys an email about the suit, saying
all the rest of your royalties would be tied up with it for years, and
immediately retired with his tiny life-savings to the
As a footnote to this classic American tale of rags to bitches and back to rags, in the fall of 2003 Lick, although paralyzed from the nipples down by the election of George W. Bush, gathered the Lips, Harry and Rosie, Gnus illegitimate son Gnuer Finklebaum on drums, some black guy bass player, and a guy who looks just like Mikill Smarm would look today, according to the FBIs forensic sketch artist, for a SSP Farewell Tour and retrospective 12-cd box set release, including 5 cds of original garage recordings from the mid 80s, 5 full 72-minute interview cds with each member of the band (the Lips shared one), a spectacular 5x7inch two-color fold-out poster, and a special bootlegged live cd from the Naked Breakfast tour, plus one brand-new song "Book Her, Curly" composed by Lick Stevenson especially for the reunion. Thirteen dates were scheduled, but Lick died suddenly of an undiagnosed massive rectal aneurysm just before the tour was to start, and so it was that Sharon Stones Pussy was fucked by some bloody asshole for the very last time.
~ Matt Terry ~