Terrell’s Tuneup: A Cosmic Twinkie’s Hellish Ride to Heaven
A version of this was published in The Santa Fe New Mexican
January 29, 2010
It might be a saloon or an Old West opium den. It’s dark and dusty, in the middle of nowhere. Half John Ford, half Eugene O’Neill. The grizzled singer seems to be channeling something from beyond. He stomps his foot and it sounds like a bass drum. Sometimes there’s a tambourine that sounds like a rattlesnake. The small crowd nods appreciatively at the slide licks and the singer’s metaphysical in-jokes, but they don’t look up from their tables. Half of them have halos; the other half, horns. Most are wearing Day of the Dead masks.