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UNBELIEVABLE. For the second time in three days I've been vomited on. First at James and now at Texas. I could understand if it was a creative critical comment, but last night I didn't even have time to get my notebook out before some lady in lime howked her guts all over my shoes. Make no mistake, it's a jungle out there.

You undoubtedly know about Texas; they emerged from the swirling mists countless eons ago punting that Cooderesque middle-ground sound just this side of bland. Songs like the sub-Dylan Everyday Now seemed mature in a Yankeefied adult kinda way. But not hugely exciting. Well that's the message daytime radio has always waved out at me. After experiencing them live I'm not so sure.

Sharlene Spiteri's voice is unexpected. Always sounded big on the records but on stage it's gargantuan. And well in control.

Stylistically they've got their wheels out of those early country road ruts and are speeding full on along the big wide souled-up highway. Even I Don't Want a Lover sounds, on occasion, like it's been cribbed from a Blaxploitation soundtrack. The Same is a killer ditty. Soaring vocals, great spooky wah-wah guitar, and a disturbing easy organ sound which breaks into a diamond warbly decaying horn sound.

And Good Advice is all wailing soul diva with Baccarach strings by way of Barry White. Top notch groove-mongering.

I recommend you pay Texas a visit.