Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Sound engineering by Mike Gentry
These songs can't help it. The three new songs that Charleston, South Carolina band All Get Out unveil here for the first time may not be trying to wreck you, but they will. They mean no ill will, but they will make you crave that best intimacy that you've ever experienced in your life. If you've not had anything that you'd qualify as intimacy that you'd ever like to return to, then these songs are going to work on your soul even more devastatingly. They will destroy you and force you into thinking about what you're doing that's so wrong. Surely, by now, you would have developed the kind of ache for someone the way that singer Nathan Hussey, guitarist Mel Washington, bassist Mike Rogers and drummer Gordon Keiter have. It's a monumental, mental and physical break in strength, where a man just crumbles into a mess of a body who can't walk anymore, can't crawl anymore and can hardly find good enough reasons to drag themselves out of bed in the morning to face anything. These beautiful, wrenching stories of escalating sorrow show what it must feel like to be pounding your head against a wall day after day, unable to be where you truly want to be (in your home, in your bedroom, safe and sound amongst the quiet and the warmth you're most familiar and comfortable with) and with the people you really love. All Get Out has dived into these lukewarm waters headfirst and the pain that they convey is wonderfully intense and extensive. Hussey doesn't let up in piling it on, just continuing to portray the state that he's in as being one that no normal person would ever wish on his or her worst enemy. There is a sense that these guys are tearing themselves apart out there on the road - unable to quit it and even more unable to grasp the reality that this is just going to keep happening, it's just going to get worse. There will be less and less personal and emotional satisfaction, even as outward gratification may continue to increase. The road has hardened them, made them into somewhat despicable forms of people that they used to know, going on with the charade because it's where they die less. If they were to leave it all, they know what the consequences would be - total emotional loss - and so they rough it, continue to fulfill their obsessions, their passions and the directions of their GPS to the next town which could either be leading them further away or drifting them closer to a temporary elixir. Hussey sings on "Time and Place" that "I was born to break your heart, to break your soul," and the way that it comes across is a threat from someone who has had it done to him plenty of times before and now it's just the norm. It's what's expected to happen, good or bad. There's no excuse for it and there's no avoiding it. Hearts break and souls follow. They are weakly protected because there's no telling when the good stuff is knocking and if they're too heavily fortified and sealed, there's loss. Catastrophic loss. It's what All Get Out have seen and it's what they fear the most. They lose parts of themselves daily, doing what they love the most. It's the price paid.