Segurro Latte is by any standards and odd little man. He prefers, he says, "flying solo in the desert to rubbin' elbows in them filthy cities."
When I ran across him outside of Tucson, he only had the clothes he wore on his back and a ragged canvas backpack crammed to the point of bursting. The pack looked something like a porcupine with its plethora of dangling items protruding from every nitch. I couldn't imagine lifting the thing, much less trekking about the desert with it.
He slipped it off he stooped back only after accepting my small offering of morning campfire coffee. As a thank you, he dug into his portable household, and extracted, of all things, an Apple laptop.
"Some city fool left it in his car when it overheated outside of Barstow," he said unabashedly. "I learned Garageband on it… here's some tunes I made up."
I was blown away by the unexpected sound from this odd little man, and had him burn this disc for me.