Chase Maxwell is a writer, poet, and trailer-trash mystic who merges neo-beat themes with in a milieu of ultimately divergent genres.  He is also the author of a poetry collection, called The Sky Loves a Nomad.  Chase was born in Austin, but grew up in rural Texas, received his BA from the University of Texas at Austin, and rambled somewhat aimlessly through life before submerging himself in eastern mysticism and losing his mind.  Over the years, he has passingly done a number of things.  As a boy, he worked on a ranch, and herded cattle from horseback.  As a teenager, he began writing poetry, making music, and blowing smoke-rings at pretty ladies.  In college, he studied some Chinese martial arts, (which he was not very good at).  He has cooked meals for countless people, and tutored young children in reading and math, and even pulled 600-pound pieces of metal in a manufacturing plant all night while taking breaks to walk on whirling pipes above whirring bits of machinery that casually threatened to take his legs off because of the economic-slave-hive-complex of industrialized society.  It’s been a hard and enlightening ride, folks.  Thank God for David Bowie.


100_0058Walter Nettles is a gentleman and a scholar, and worthy of a fine silver dollar.  He plays the guitar like he’s got 66 blues masters and the devil himself riding high in his quarter-Cherokee bones.  But ol’ boy’s a family man, too.  Walter has a wife named Felicia Nettles, who is a part-time tattoo artist, and together they have two joyful daughters, who are pretty much the sweetest kids in the world.  Anyway, a long time ago Walter and Chase would gather round the TV with red-rimmed eyeballs and stare at Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix DVDs for hours on end while his mother, a real life 1960’s hippie gone AWOL, would fire off live rounds in the other room for kicks.  I’m not kidding.  We’re all glad Janice has settled down a bit.  (Unfortunately, the only photo we got of Angel-Fingers here is from the long-gone days of his reckless teenage youth.)