Denver Williams is a one-man honkytonk orgy on the moon. He’s a primo dreamo screamo e-beam of brilliance, heralding the gospel of a sundancing future. His fretboard melts interwoven ecstasies of elation and melancholia.  

Raised on a Texas farm that grew human souls, he reaped what he sowed. At the age of 8, he was sent to the hinterlands of the Adirondacks where he used a dowsing rod to find the Devil’s guitar, made of real gold. Wolves taught him to play guitar, and to this day he shreds like a wolf.  

Back in Texas, he formed guitar posses called “bands.” He formed Organic Think Machines and Chingalotus, two names everyone treats with reverence in certain circles.  He worked as a hired gun for Vincent Neil Emerson. He made listeners reimagine the purpose of sound.    

Together with Neal McAlister, Nick Tittle and Caleb Stanislaw, Denver formed the posse called Chillamundo. Now they wander the back roads of America, wearing sack cloth and phoenix ash, singing heartbreaking odes to the waxing and waning of the seasons.  

On Tuesdays he melts guitar candy in Fort Worth based group Deep Sleeprs.

Nowadays people say Denver Williams never existed. He was just a tall tale handed down through the generations. But there are some who say he will return some day, guitar in hand, to rescue all us sinners from the banality of the world.