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I had heard story´s about Gwamba, I´ll admit I was a little bit anxious. Driving 4 hours from Portland to the middle of nowhere, religious cult, satanic rituals, crazy imbred hillbillys? what I got, was a tour through the mind of a manically devoted, ambassador of his own world of music, and at the same time, a walk in the wonderfully cluttered, shockingly open, confines of a manic, bi-polar recluse, who lives on a mountain named aft himself.
