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Janny Richter plays a hellfire-red guitar from the cradle of a blister beech rocking chair, demanding his place in heaven with greasy, unrepentant Delta-style blues. A gristle-coated gospel terraforms the stage into wind swept buttes and haunted plains. His lyrics are swollen and sizzled. His eyes gone black. Drink deep as the sun burns out. You don't mind. Starlight falls hot on a hungry soul.
