Marshall Sidbury has been writing songs since he left home in the New Mexico desert to work as a cattle hand on the rodeo circuit. One night after the rodeo, he was stabbed by a jealous husband in an Arkansas juke joint and had a spiritual awakening. He quit the rodeo and left the next day to play the piano in a travelling Pentecostal revival, until he was bitten by multiple times by venomous snake and could not travel to the next destination. After he recovered, he took a job in a tobacco warehouse near Durham, North Carolina, where he lives today. Along the way, he’s picked up songs: from the corridos of Mexican border towns to the work chants he learned as a prisoner during a brief stint in a Texas penitentiary.
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