BRAIN: a night in Potsdam is a cold, but good, one

[Bolts of Ungodly Vision]

    As to the definite "when" of the show, I cannot say. But brothers and
sisters, let me assure of one thing: It was good.

   The one irksome aspect of Maxfield's was that equipment setup had to
occur after all the dining folk had vacated the "stage" area, which
consisted of
plywood on top of the restaurant's nice carpet. The size itself was fairly
spacious; far roomier than the Rongovian Embassy (but you got to give the
embassy points for cool name and (according to Peter, Billy, and Dave)
treating them to good food.)  At least Maxfield's bathroom held a "shiny
symbol for ham," according to one astute individual, so it can't be all bad.

    During the pre-show assembly process/waiting, Brian and I hung around
the bar and got a' chatting with Billy, Peter and David (who left briefly
to phone home, which was a nice thing to do. He further helped move the
equipment-stamped w/ the band logo to boot later on) about such interesting
things as the silliness of our current speed limit system, the fiscal
rewards of tickets, people in clock towers with shot guns, the woes and
virtues of owning a "grandaddy pimpmobile,"  and the aesthetic effects of a
soul path converting a reparman into a jazzman. It was somewhere in this
that we
were informed "Hassan I Sahba" was to be played that evening. Goody!
We also were told by Peter of the long recording history behind his madcap
new CD availible on Cellsum Records: "The record company for good people."
Dressed in the mandatory Potsdam uniform (aka winter gear) the band
eventually unloaded their tuff whilst Bri and I grabbed us a very decent
seat on the left side of the stage, but in perfect view of all members of
the band.  During the tinkering about, Billy showed us a mighty fine
guitar-- a telecaster signed by Mick Jagger, a guitar which Peter described
as having a very good sound compeared to other teles he's played upon.

    The sound check was a very unusual and fun one--Peter uttering sundry
oddities like "hibidyhibidyhibidy hoo" and a sound reminiscent of the cat
into his mike.  By the way, the fruit guitar was in full effect that
evening. Yay fruit!
   As Deb commented later, the PA system was an experiment in finding what
works.
   After proudly saying "I'm a chicken,"  in repsonse to the presence of
the swim team and swimming this time of year, Billy talked up the crowd a
bit as even more turning of knobs and pushing of buttons took place in
order to get a balance out of the amps taken from Peter's studio and
Albert's amps from home.
The testing reaching an earth shattering climax in the unforgettable
"which-mike-was-the-best showdown" between Billy and Deb.  As time drew
near, we received enthuiastic high fives from Mssr. Hilfiger who was
wearing a  smooth sounding and good looking  yellow non-Fender guitar.
Needless to say i was psyched for what was to come.  What made me happier
was the fact the place was packed on a snowy winter night with people; the
fliers and elbow grease had done what they set out to do.

    Speaking of needless (by dropping the "ss"), the first song of the show was
the one and only "Needle Gun" by those who keep the freak flag flying,
Hawkwind.
    Despite the mike duel earlier, Deb's voice was not too present in the mix,
a situation that was swiftly corrected after the 3rd song.  As revealed to
us during the set break by Peter, Needle Gun was a surprise song to start
the first set (it was slated to start the second originally)  and despite
tuning difficulties w/ "St. Vitus Dance" (down to a D say he) which was
supposed to start, it followed on NG's heels rather thunderously. Witnesses
of the gig, particularly the band members and those audience members seated
immediately around the stage area, reported a rather wild little man
wearing glasses and a white tBS T-Shirt doing some sort of wild
gesculations to the tunage.  Kids these days with their rock and roll, I
tell ya-all the devil's work :)

    "Gun" and "Medusa" kicked behinds off their comfy wooden chairs as the band
conveyed a musical ferocity that I for one really dug.  The studio versions
are keen animals, but live they're like really big and loud animals with a
touch of dementia for good measure ("Medusa" featured some slight revamping
in the music of the last verse if I rmember--a guitar rhythm was added to
an effective effect (how's that for redundancy?).
     A quickish sound check commenced afterwards, during which Deb's
microphone was rightly restored to its prominent place for the rock n' roll
to come; this came in handy as the next song was a wild rendition of "Kiss
is a Promise" during which the house light fixtures went very dim for no
apparent reason (after all, one doesn't usually use ceiling mounted
chandelierish lights for rock shows, do you?) Guitar solos smoked, vocals
were vocal in all the right ways and places, and the drumming was like a
frieght train of sound barreling down a very steep slope with no brakes
through a tunnel in the guise of an unassuming drum kit, behind which a
happy looking almost-alum to Clarkson
sat.
    Continuing the groove laid down earlier was "Laura's Plastic Swords" in
which one sequence involved slow motion movement by the band. I was happy
and digging it all like a kid in a candy store.  "Gimme Nothin" did what it
should, which would have to be the activity known as "rocking" (quite well
too), only to be proceeded by "My Civilization" in which Al quipped "fuck
you" during a slight break in the funk metal meltdown.

    Slowing down slightly, Albert put down a drum beat, on top which he
told the story of a young lad, himself actually, and how he came to be a
drummin', though when in school he had no drums.  In Clarkson he met some
fellows who needed a
drummer, and thus...well if you know said drummer's rock background like I
do, it is suffice to say "the rest is history."
    This fortunate recitation lead into the molten metal swing of "I Play
the Drums" during which Albert left his seat and proceed to use Maxfield's
as the big ol' drumkit.  To top that, he sang "mellow" quite sweetly (?)
before the band erupted into the end sequence of the tune.  It had  become
a billion times more potent in this performance as than it  had been 3
years ago when I saw its   second trail run.  Damn, I was  happy.
     Ending the fury of the first set was a righteously reckless retelling
of the tale of "Dominance and Submission," with Albert providing the cool
"submission" replies  a la the ST version in the end segment before the
lead guitar blazed a sonic pathway through my grey matter. Thank god it
didn't hurt....much anyhow:).  niether of the planned encores were
performed due to the time, which was good in a way since I was very
exhausted, but reserves quickly returned to full. In the intermission
Billy, Peter and David all sat 'round with  Brian and me at our table.
During this I was ruthlessly sold a copy of Pete Bohevesky's "wacky" music,
and given the chance to see the amazing penny trick responsible for the CD
cover.  What talent these city boys have.

  This time, discussion turned to the Hawkwind material and heard of the band's
relationship with the late BOC-Ler Rudy, whom Pete summed up after hanging
out with him eariler as "a really cool guy."  Albert was struck by the
primarily unchangeable nature of Potsdam since he had been there last.

   A fellow audience member piped in and requested "Sally." David replied
with a great degree of panache, "I'd like to hear fucking "Sally," too!"
This was just cool.  Nevertheless, she didn't appear in the show; Suzie
did, but that's later.
After the encounter with the leather clad lad, we received a lesson on
Quatar, in which it's apparently not a bothersome task to dry laundry.
Another anecdote was that from  the Styleen's show in Syracuse, the band
drove straight home and encountered an Indian road block consisting of
burning tires, which were mistaken at first to be bodies.  After all, its
not too often you run
across a raging inferno in upstate NY, particularly on non-flammable
pavement in the dead of night.

    After receiving a visit from the disembodied spectre of Albert
Bouchard's head, set two opened ceremoniously with the amalgamated Name
Your Monster- the
acoustic intro was kept but the body was charged with electrical firepower.
In a complaint about the "varsity PA" (quote courtesy of Robin Tyner during
a gig long gone), Deb fired the drummer.  My what a quick show/career!
 Fortunately, it  was all just part of Deb's "Career of Evil." (Aint that
the  prettiest lil' transition you've ever heard, not to mention a pretty
lil' song?) Gleefully, they took space rock for a decidedly Surgeonish spin
with Al singing w/ Deb on "Hassan I Sabha."  Despite being violinless, it
cooked many a rockin'brain cell to a perfect golden brown.  It was Goodwind
from that surgery.   A threesome from the Imaginos album for "nobody" (Al
said) who was an Imaginos fan commenced with a heavy and moving "Overture",
blues metal without the straightness of blues (plus  a pinch of quirkiness
for good measure) gave rise to "I Am the One You Warned Me Of." To keep the
regulars informed, the public service minded band called out "last call"
with the sagacious admonition "Stock up on your beer." The capper was the
fun-filled "Astronomy" in which Al liked to go "Hey!" during the verses and
repeated one a few times whilst Billy stretched the guitar solo a bit
during the final run prior to "Astronomy--a star." It was fun and loose yet
overwhelmingly tight. It was rock the way it should be.
    Not to name names or anything, but some fruit guitar owning fellow said
that
Deb, and I quote, "had a fat head."  It was about to get ugly when Deb
introduced the next song as a tune about Peter--I mean him (can't keep
anonymity too well I suppose)-- and those like himm, "Baby Ice Dog."  It
blasted the rafters and shook the Career of Christmas tape from its case
many footsteps away in my dorm with rockful rock n' roll.  Keeping the
animal theme alive, "Donkey Show "shredded its way through the Maxfield's
patrons.  It, just like everything else before and after, grooved in all
the right goove spots.
At the end, gone was the groove as a beast from the past reared its head when
a certain Mr. Hilfiger played a familiar opening.  The opening lead to a
gazillion supernovas as "The Red and the Black" thundered into being as a
fresher, fiercer and zanier  song than its original incarnation so many LPs
ago.

   The show ended then and there as there was no time for encores.  Talk
afterwards with Deb and Peter consisted of an enjoyable lament of college
age drinking, the third verse of "Donkey Show," going the speed limit on
snowy north country roads (or not going the speed limit as it was in
Albert's case), college music stations and their audiences, the teal/blue
shirts and hair color, and a retelling of the stiff rules in college Albert
had to deal with 'way back when.' Hearty handshakes for being there and
enjoying the show (or my case, Billy said I was "jammin' away"), were
received from all the band members. CD, shirt and signed _Box of Hammer_
cover in hand, we left to collapse from exhaustion and write this review.
In sum, the Brain Surgeons provided a darn good outlet for this "otherwise
reserved" fellow, as David observed, as well doing what's most important in
music---having immense amounts of fun.

Not thinking the review is long enough,
Jason