The Sand Rubies, known as the Sidewinders when they began in the spring of 1985, had carved out a niche in Tucson, AZ with the tools of whipsaw guitar and impassioned vocals - a finely-honed pop sensibility in perfect co-existence with a melodic driving sound. They were a true original in the genre of roots rock, typified later by many other bands who have followed in their noisy and poetic footsteps. It was as though they had made the Mesphistophelean bargain without knowing it - they would be too big and too good, too soon. It would bring them great joy in the beginning, but it would also tear them apart before their time had come.

The big sound of the Sidewinders was a windstorm whirling out of the desert, sweeping up legions of fans who heard the expanse of sand and sky in Rich Hopkins' crunchy wailing guitar and the by-turns soaring and howling vocals of David Slutes. What kept you entranced was even at their loudest and angriest, the listener was always welcomed into the story, never alienated.

Nigel Grainge of Ensign-Chrysalis arrived on the scene fully intending to take them where they deserved to be, but instead delivered the death knell when financial difficulty and the loss of Ensign's American distribution deal left the band labelless for the second time in less than a year and a half. The self-titled release came out at long last on Atlas/Polydor in 1993, but the momentum was lost. Bruce Halper and Mark Perrodin left before the album was even released, taking the engine of the machine with them when they went. Dragging themselves along on with replacement players, a whole lot of emotional baggage and little tour support took its toll very rapidly, and the Rubies stopped cold in the middle of the tour for the album. Weary and at odds with one another, their musical stories of betrayal and broken hearts coming too close to real life, Hopkins and Slutes parted ways in mid-1993.

But they were creatures of the desert. And every living thing that comes from the desert possesses that core of resilience that makes survival possible, even if it sometimes means hiding from the worst of the heat. In early 1995, Rich compiled a collection of live recordings intended to be a send off for their fans. And then came the idea of performing a local show to support the release. Both Dave and Rich had individual projects and other works in progress, but wanted to give it a try anyway.

April of 1995 saw hope reborn when they played Tucson's Club Congress, a place they called "a lot like home"; where it had all begun the first time. Then over a year later on Easter weekend 1996, they played Nita's Hideaway in Tempe, and it was like they had never been gone. All it took was standing in that tiny packed room for both the band and the crowd to feel an energy and electricity that was more than those walls could contain. Little did anyone know this would end up being more than just a reunion show, or a way to sell a send-off to their fans. It was the beginning of the return to their legendary status.

Electric Ballroom October 1996. Dave crows at the end of their set, "we're back, get used to it!" And they discovered that they really wanted to be back, that it could be fun and meaningful once more. Mark Perrodin was hesitant to re-commit himself full-time, and so guitarist Robin Johnson (Gentlemen After Dark) came on to play bass that winter, and the band played more frequently around Tucson through the fall and winter of 1996. In March 1997 they made a late-night, jam-packed appearance at SXSW, and then won the dubious-but-emotional award of Best Reunion Band at the Tammies (Tucson Area Music Awards). They were writing new songs, and ventured to slip the new material in wherever they could. Buoyed by the reception of crowds everywhere they played and their re-found confidence in themselves, they returned to the studio in May of 1997 and began the recording process for their first new release in nearly five years, which stayed unnamed almost until street date.

The re-emergence was a long time coming, and the grass roots support reappeared as soon as the buzz got around that the band was on again, but even this phase was plagued with its own pains and tribulations; bassist Robin Johnson encountered serious personal and legal difficulties and was out of the band by July 1997. The Rubies soldiered on with help from Ken Andre of the El Paso band New Texicans, who alternated gigs with Mark, and eventually, Mark Perrodin made the decision to return to the fold. The local and regional touring continued. The album was slowly getting made.

Finally, in October 1998, after toying with working titles and last-minute track changes and re-mixes, the Sand Rubies released their first studio album in five years, titled with their entire tongue in cheek, "Return of The Living Dead", on Blue Rose. In January 1999, the band hit the German stages and played sold-out shows - the best-attended shows ever in Blue Rose history.