If Hendrix had lived, he probably would have ended up recording Black Pussy’s On Blonde in 1971 as a kerosine-soaked hard rock warning against the commercial, pretentious pop overkill to come. Black Pussy is the sound of a dirty, immense engine coming down a two-lane blacktop; a trip fueled by the roar of a 1967-purchased bong in the back of a 1972 Nova (“Marijuana”), listening to the cars surrounding, heading into the sunset (“Indiana”).