Biography Marrakech, I979. Two small boys stare excitedly from the fifth floor of an ancient, gilded Palace. Beneath them the cities Bazzars hum with life, the ragged stalls like so many mangy travel blankets. Whole months are offered up to the glories of Saint-Saens and the wisdom of Theodore Parker.
Life is good.
As schooled as they undoubtedly are, not even Ronaldo or Clydenio could have guessed the vileness that lurked unseen in the bosom of their own family. Nothing to do with us. Our Ronnie and Clyde meet under slightly differing circumstances. Two grown men nearly come to blows over the decks at a mutual friends house party. His record bags barely containing their battered bounty of Flourgon, Hijack and Harold Budd.