Imagine yourself walking the barrios in Queens, New York circa 1975. Bums, pushers, hookers, street musicians and the smell of tortas vendors. You see a small club, it has a name like "Enrique's Hell Hole," you venture in. Torches are a-flaming, you tiptoe over the junkies and needles scattered about the floor. There are hundreds of sweaty men and women grooving to the most energetic music the American Latino community ever produced. On stage are six fried dudes, cranking out some intense music. I do mean intense. Two percussionists and a drummer drive the speedy pulse, while organ, bass and guitar roar, slash and sing. This is all Chango's first album and for anyone who likes the early Santana vibe, then you are in for a treat, cause Chango goes where Santana let up. That's right - forget "Soul Sacrifice" and get ready for some serious jamming. This is Santana IV, the culmination of heavy Latin groove rock. This album has it all, the screaming Carlos guitar licks (and what chops!), the swirling organ (do you like Hammond? Oh boy, get a doctor, you'll need it), the speed freak machismo lead singer (messed up chicks swoon for this) and of course those danceable and tranced-out rhythms (even this stiff white guy noticed). The lyrics are just what you want from this kind of album: Sex, life-in-the-ghetto, grade-school mysticism and well, sex. Right off the bat, you're pulverized with "Fire Over Water" followed by the eight minute "Walk on Hell". Do I really need to describe th