I spent most of my life in the desert. I grew up there. I walked across the desert floor in the midday heat, watching the heat waves blur the horizon, making eye contact with coyotes, dodging rattle snakes and running from angry javelinas. I climbed mountains and slept on the ground or in the back of my pickup. And I wondered, "What's really going on here?" Life in the desert--for most of us--is not about cowboys and Indians. But the cowboys are there. So are the Indians. Spanish and Mexican history flow out of the cracks of old adobe walls, the bright colors, the smell of rich food cooking, beer and tequila and the celebration of dead ancestors. I see guns and trains and horses. Buildings collapsing in the sun. I see the border. And I need a drink. "Vaqueros" is my link to the history of the southwest, or its percieved history, my own experience and music that takes you there.