In “Wind”, Megan Bonnell sings to us in words we can’t quite place, in languages only she knows and if we’re attentive enough to catch her phrases, we feel like we’ve been let in on a secret. There’s a kind

It’s a siren song, a longing for those times of sticky Junes, whiskey in jars, kind folks- all in the deep deep South. But for whatever reason, Catl are here in the North. But maybe it’s the punk in them.

They’re a little weathered, in black leather and sunglasses, hardened only by these unforgiving months. But they grind out those Delta blues like it’s something they need to do. words by Nada Alic myspace.com/catlmusic