Riding their tired old horses across Detroit, their saddlebags stuffed with bourbon, cigarettes, Coney Island hotdogs and worn Johnny Cash cassettes, are the Orbitsuns, the Motor City’s finest purveyors of low down and dirty outlaw country. Summoning the spirits of all of their brethren, the Orbitsuns are as outrageous as Iggy, as blue collar as Seger, as dark as Alice, as revolutionary as the MC5 and as boundary crossing as the Kid.

This is country, folks, but not as you know it.