Somebody call Pitchfork, cuz it's time to believe the hype. Denton's Ghosthustler is the real electronic deal, rolling up scuzzy, evil, synthetic riffs in a big spliff coated in angel dust and blowing them out at the audience. The consequences of attending a Ghosthustler show are therefore varied and dangerous: Your brain is bound to get all fucked up, your eyes rolling in the back of your head as your lower appendages move independently of synaptic impulse. This is a group as jagged and electric as a lightning bolt, only less organic; their output is all fuzzy effects and Dave Gahan with an extension cord plugged up his ass. One listen and you'll immediately decide to pack up your Chromeo and Monster discs—they're dead to you now—and shout to the world, "I've seen the light! Compared to Ghosthustler, Daft Punk are little French bitches!" With Austin soundscapers Moth Fight.
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