Something of a feminist antihero, Kristen Erickson provides a needed counterbalance to the male-gaze histrionics of Charlie’s Angels and the catering woman that is the archetypal “Hollywood heroine.” In her guise as compu-C(o)untry reverse-diva Kevin Blechdom, the SF-to-Berlin transplant has, with Bitches without Britches, made her shining opus thus far. Positively scatologically and carnally fixated, Bitches is excessive and ridiculous, and also strangely affecting. You may wonder how someone can sing “We are the dick defrosters and dickin’s what we do/enter me and soon your dick will feel like new” and then cover “Private Dancer” with such awkward, revealing grace. But then, that’s the charm of Kevin Blechdom.