Majestic lady

Cheyenne Fowler's got some powerlungs. Google tells me that she was a Native-American soul sensation who somehow failed to set the world aflame. An injustice on the scale of Sacco and Vanzetti, I'd say.

This song has 1976 written all over it, and I guess it would've sounded best in a place like Philadelphia, pre-Rocky - wintertime, dirty, full of despair, sideburns, and brown leather jackets. In my imaginary movie, it's being performed in the club scene, where the protagonists either get killed, fall in love, or hatch a plan to leave town with the loot and their lives.

Dig the brain-melting guitar solo at 1:27. Makes me desperately want to know how to play guitar solos.

Cheyenne - Come Back to Me