The Great Kat
Beethoven On Speed

Follow me, I want to introduce you to a lady.

The one on the right is Kat or, as she prefers to call herself, The Great Kat. Why is she so angry? Ah, don't ask me. All I know is that in every photo published on her site (which I highly recommend visiting) she flaunts her satanic grin/scream, giving the impression that, like Batman's Joker, she has her jaw permanently locked in that position. Strange character, this Kat.

She believes herself to be a demigod, the true messiah of new classical music and a direct descendant of the great composers. Graduated from Juilliard School in violin, for the series every megalomaniac in this world will sooner or later pick up a guitar, she also quickly decided to devote herself to studying the six-string, in order to present classical themes she holds dear in an electric key. Often nicknamed the Skirted Malmsteen, she inherits from the Swede his passion for ultra-fast performances, but with this difference: while Malmsteen seems to love the likes of Bach, Vivaldi, Paganini, enough to name his son Antonio in honor of Vivaldi, she enjoys violating, raping the great classical composers, stripping them of their dignity as heritage of all humanity.

Her albums have titles like this: "Beethoven on Speed," "Bloody Vivaldi," "Wagner’s War," "Rossini’s Rape," to foreshadow to the unsuspecting listener what lies ahead. On the scene since the late '80s, she gains some success with the album "Beethoven on Speed," but more for the almost fetish-like behaviors Kat exhibits during concerts and for interviews that at this point I wouldn't know if they have the approval of the asylum director.
In about half an hour, Kat perpetuates a gang rape of Beethoven's music, some areas of which are offered in a speed metal key, accompanied by some of Kat's compositions whose titles say it all: Kat abuse, Ultra dead, Gripping obsession. To prove she is the fastest guitarist on earth, she also tackles two works that have little to do with Beethoven: the Flight of the Bumblebee and Paganini's Caprice No. 24, two of the most abused pieces ever.

She, from a performance point of view, has only speed, without a shred of control, embodying complete musical chaos. The contents of this album are so mediocre that it makes you think that the heads of Roadrunner had lost their minds in publishing such indecency, but as we know, marketing strategies are much more important than content, and the hope that such a character could win over the hearts of pimply metalhead teenagers justified such decisions.
Mocked and insulted by half the specialized media, Kat did not lose heart, releasing other albums and educational videos, always in the name of aesthetic and musical sado-masochism, always seeking attention that now seems to be no longer reserved for her, neither by the press nor by the pimply teenagers.

But for those who want a good laugh, her records are there, within reach. The Great Kat, or the indecent side of metal.