"You think I'm psycho, don't you mama?"

Years and years ago, I was in the Berkshires, smoking something tasty with this guy (a painter who now lives with -- and has two children with -- the daughter of one of the most famous, richest capitalists in America), and he says to me, apropos of nothing, "You know, there's a country song called "You think I'm psycho, mama." I damn near choked as the fragrant smoke came rushing out of my nose. Kind of similar to when my brothers used to wait for me to take a big swig of milk then say something funny. Only better.

After searching for years for this song, and after long giving up ever finding it, I find, quite by accident, the musical phenomenon known as "Psychobilly."