We came expecting some raucous Tex-Mex, and left exhilarated by a Rabelaisian cocktail of the most sensual flamenco criss-crossed with a heady brand of rock'n'roll that was pure Texas, writes Siobhán Long.
Patricia Vonne and her band peddle a magnificent line in high-octane, hard-rockin', spangly guitar, bolstered by a freewheeling vocal style that one suspects would be just as much at home by the campfire as it would in the rowdiest bar-rooms.
Rarely do we get the chance (or the pleasure) of witnessing such a naturally charismatic performer in action, up close and personal. Vonne's sheer exuberance was almost enough to fetter her audience at her feet, but her rocket-fuelled set list was no slouch in the seduction stakes either.
She conjures a world that's utterly alien, lit by southern Texas light and populated by exotic characters who use, abuse and discard compadres with the feckless facility of lone riders more at home with the music than with humanity.
Joe's Gone Ridin', a sideways tribute to Joe Ely, could so easily have descended into rabid sycophancy, but instead blazed a scorching trail in the path of the greatest Flatlander of them all.
La Cigarra pays its dues to the Mexican folk tradition so beloved of Vonne's mother, with Vonne inhabiting every castanet-shadowed syllable as though it was the only source of oxygen in the room. Rebel Bride is a raucous barnstormer that had Vonne's band closing in on her like a demented predator in pursuit of its prey, with Vonne's sinuous vocals effortlessly eluding them time and time again.
Traeme Paz, from the soundtrack of Once Upon A Time in Mexico (directed by her brother, Roberto Rodriguez), was suitably cinematic, but then again, Vonne herself could be a big-screen icon: all flailing arms, piercing eyes and belly-punching lyrics. A true original and a bracing presence, who deserves a wider audience round these parts.
