03/31/2026

Welcome back once again to that paragon of Euterpian virtue, that Orphean/Eurydicean journey through the dense subterranean murk of Ye Olde Matador Bar & Lounge, that curiously curated labyrinthian musical curlicued dance of Id and Ego—yes, you guessed it, it's another edition of DJ Inky's Matador Playlist. Did you miss me? I sure as hell missed you, whoever the hell you are.
03/18/2026

It has been a weird winter in Santa Fe, Gentle Reader(s)—more like The Winter That Never Was in actual fact. Here we are in mid-March and temperatures are headed for around 85 degrees over the next few days. That's not just odd—it's bizarre, freaky, unheard of. I've been living in this town for 36 years and I've never seen anything quite the likes of it, and it's got me a bit rattled I don't mind sayin. But what's that got to do with Part Eight of The Road Crew? Well you might ask: Absolutely fuck-all, that's what. I just wanted to get that particular observation off my chest. On with the matter at hand then. Part Eight of the Cretins saga finds the boys recovering from a night out on the 'town' and heading further into deepest, darkest Middle America for their rendezvous with the Big Time in Omaha, Nebraska. Ink relates his unsuspecting trial-by-fire initiation into the crew on a previous tour and the band prepares to enjoy the perks of their all-too-brief association with the Tom Kindler Band. Extra points to those who can suss out the identity of this thinly disguised Bay Area five-piece of early '80s MTV fame. Keep those cards and letters coming in (yours would be the first, actually), and don't hesitate to share The Road Crew with your family, friends, enemies, fellow ICE detainees, or whoever else you're hanging out with these days.