If the dysfunctional wheels of a deranged brain made noise, it might
resemble the sound made by Get Hustle. The organ sounds programmed
for auto-replay — again and again and again the same haunting
note hammers in, as if to taunt the madman until he shrieks, "Stop!
Please God make it stop! I can't take it anymore!" Valentine Husar's
lead vocals sound at once tortured and demanding, reminding the
insane of the sanity lost — "give up, there's no way out, you're
stuck with me," they seem to imply, in both desperation and fury. The
pretty, airy plinking of the piano offers a glimpse of hope in the
distance, on the horizon where freedom from darkness lives. There are
no guitars to express rock 'n' roll's rebellious/escapist feel.
All is disturbingly grim in Get Hustle's world. The Portland, Ore.,
quartet create a sound befitting the kind of hell one's mind invents
when all of one's screws have been knocked loose and the screwdriver
forever lost.
The five songs off the band's latest EP release, Dream Eagle,
feel dangerously off and eerie as if they've arrived to drag you
against your will into their messed-up world. Inspired by the
Stooges, cabaret, Patti Smith, post-punk and, most certainly, the
devil herself (yes, that's right), Get Hustle — Husar, organist
Mark Evan Burden, pianist Mac Mann and drummer Ron Avila — offer
creepy, tormented atmosphere, the kind made for a padded room.
Still, in all its fucked-up-ness lies a whole lot of talent, passion,
soul, power, artistic merit and a mood great for a stormy, candlelit
night — minus the romance. Its effectiveness lies in the "weird
equals good" theory of music. If you enjoy your music drenched in the
three D's necessary for all-out weirdness — droning, dissonant
and demented — you'll love Dream Eagle. I know I do.
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