Artist:     Hunt Sales Memorial

Album:     Get Your Shit Together

Label:     Big Legal Mess

Release Date:     1.25.19

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Assuming the role of snake charmer on drums and bashing out an unforgettably primal, hip-shaking groove that was wildly hypnotic and wantonly sexual, Hunt Sales lit a dancing fire under Iggy Pop’s feverish classic “Lust for Life” that never went out. That alone should have earned him proto-punk sainthood.

The muscular dynamics he and brother Tony, the offspring of famed comedian Soupy Sales, displayed throughout Pop’s Lust for Life album, plus Todd Rundgren’s 1970 LP Runt and their contributions to Kill City, the ‘70s lost-and-found record by Pop and another former Stooge in James Williamson, led to their Tin Machine experience with David Bowie and guitarist Reeves Gabrels. Built to last, having overcome a nasty, longtime heroin habit, Hunt Sales has emerged from exile with Get Your Shit Together, a gripping album of scuzzy, roots-rock honesty – sprinkled with Memphis soul fairy dust, or some other substance – that could be lying in a gutter somewhere if Hunt hadn’t cleaned up his act.

Slathered in sleazy saxophone fat, sinewy songs like the growling, slow-churning “Tides That Bind,” the rough-and-tumble “Magik,” and the lowdown R&B lament “Sorry Baby” sound mangy and feral, but also tough and undeniably riveting, with Hunt’s gravelly vocals and rugged beats holding onto hard-nosed guitar riffs for dear life. Those dirty horns and gritty electric guitars, exhibiting all the sexy machismo and swagger of The Rolling Stones, get a halting “I Can’t Stop” and the rollicking boogie-woogie workout “Shimekra’s Got the Hook Up” all hot and bothered, while a snarling “Bitch Done Left Me” gnashes its teeth and a twangy, reggae-tinged “Angel of Darkness” bops around contemplating the thin line between love and hate.

Seedy realism and raw, savage sincerity are the order of the day in Hunt Sales’ direct lyrics, although “One Day” strums out tousled, unkempt Americana with a little ray of hope. For sheer ballsy, driving rock ‘n’ roll, though, it’s hard to beat the furious “Way on My Own,” as Get Your Shit Together is a dangerous journey through private hells and public embarrassments. You might want to buckle up.

—Peter Lindblad