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It was on a Saturday in Deep Ellum, and the night seemed unnaturally dark. Outside, the first breezes of fall chilled the air, but inside Reno's Chop Shop the air was humid and thick, like a warm locker room. As the bar buzzed with the aimless movement of incoming patrons, three men could be seen on stage fiddling with instruments. A bassist, cloaked in a mop of hair, fine-tuned a snake pit of electrical wires, while a bristly, muscle-bound drummer sat stoic, oddly motionless. A third man stood right of them, amassing a tower of electronic gadgets -- block atop block of knobs, tape reels and knotted audio equipment. Within moments, the room went still and the band started to play.