Brother Dusty

Brother Dusty - the Frankenstein’s Monster of musical style: His face wreaks of Rock n Roll, riot & rebellion. Sometimes he’s singin and next thing he’s yellin. One fist grips a mic with Hip Hop angst; his other hand slithers like a Desert snake. He marches one boot stompin like a Punk while his other foot dances to the Funk. Folk in his heart, Blues in his soul. Blood from a church where the Gospel was told. A Classical trained brain, a mouth full of Jazz. He’ll slap a fat bass line and drop beat on your ass. A reject, an outcast with no place to sit. All in all, he’s a nightmare with no box to fit. He came from the shadows, his song from the spirits. He’s comin to your town, And it’s your turn to hear it.