SONIC HOSANNAS. Audial apocrypha. Aural apocalypse. The bends and slides could be a Doppler fighter screaming overhead, a doppelganger of aerial combat accentuated by the dropping of bombs: strum slap! There's nothing quite like the turbo effects Keith gets from his guitar, more like a chain saw when he really gets it going. That's why axmen from Ry Cooder to B. B. King, no matter how much awe or adulation they command in their own right, act a little uneasy when they get around reticent Keith: it's the sense that this fella's doing something he might maybe shouldn't, and that suspicion itself is disquieting to their own irreverent minds. It's just that with overdrive and English biliousness he's taking it a hair further than any of them could, care, or dare.