Yup, Ron took these pictures at the show. Cool, huh?

Despite its reasonable size, Eugene is a fairly boring town, so of course when appealing events do happen, they always seems to fall on the same night. As an example, consider this particular evening, when there were two art exhibits opening (one of which featured something by yours truly) as well as the landing of space rockers Man...or Astroman?. With much running, Colleen and I managed to make it to both openings as well as the show, which featured stellar performances by all three bands.

As the crowd filtered in, the Mooney Suzuki took the stage. A quartet from New York City, the band was pure rock and roll. Dressed all in black and looking like the Beatles from Hell, the band ripped through unadulterated rock that brought to life the legends of the early Rolling Stones and MC5. Despite literally shocking microphone problems, the band stomped all over garage rock, falling to their knees during solos so pure that the gods themselves were headbanging their approval. As they leapt about with unfettered abandon, the Suzukis' energetic take on rhythm and blues easily won the crowd. When guitarist Graham Tyler jumped from the stage and landed on his knees for one final solo, I was grinning from ear to ear. This was one of the best opening acts I have ever come across, hands down.

The Black Heart Procession came from a very different place than the Mooney Suzuki, but were equally engaging. On a stage drenched in a deep blue light, this trio (give or take a helping hand) played Pink Floyd journeys for people raised on the Cure. Pall Jenkins' vocals dripped with the same rich melancholy as Nick Cave's, but the real joy was the music itself. Tobias Nathaniel's piano rang out with spare chords that left me full of cathedral-sized emptiness. This was combined with sparse, theatric percussion provided by Mario Rubalcaba, whose plodding toms furthered the processional image. Meanwhile, Jenkins switched between a bowed saw (yes, literally a handsaw) and keyboards. The lonely, quivering sound of the saw was downright disturbing as it howled in the spaces left by Nathaniel. The keyboards provided slight drones, which were as winter winds blowing through the structures of the other instruments. As the band spiraled through their songs, they would launch into long, completely devastating instrumental jams. This was a moving, emotionally exhausting performance.

Finally, the stage was prepared for Man... or Astroman? Technicians in white hazmat suits set up instruments and screens, covering the stage with white tubing as images of sound waves were projected on the backdrop. Once the stage was set, MoA -- who are some of the best alien musicians to ever crash-land on Earth -- took their places. As drummer Birdstuff, guitarist Trace Reading and bassist Blazar the Probe Handler clambered over their equipment and struck an impressive number of rock-god poses, Coco the Electric Monkey Wizard took up a computer keyboard. As he typed out instructions, a droning, computerized voice greeted the audience. "All the people in the house... say yeah," the machine called, receiving an enthusiastic response. With the crowd brought to attention, the band launched into a mad set of stunningly executed musical freak-outs. As the first song started, Coco doused his theremin with lighter fluid and set it on fire. Naturally, the crowd went nuts, myself included. Concentrating heavily on their latest album, Spectrum of an Infinite Scale, the band was completely engaging. Birdstuff attacked his drum kit, even setting it on fire and smashing his gong with his head during the closing number. Coco bobbed constantly as he switched between guitar, bass and keyboard (again of the computer variety), bringing a wide array of sounds to the mix. Blazar also bounced non-stop as he played his bass, but despite his constant motion seemed dead on (the band claims that all mistakes are intentional so as not to damage the brains of humans with exposure to pure space rock). Freakiest of all was Trace Reading, who managed to look like a robot moving in reverse as he played his guitar for all it was worth. His movements were so amazing that I tried it myself in front of the mirror the next day, but instead looking like a robot, I merely looked stupid.

Throughout the set, a variety of images looped across the video screens that surrounded the stage, furthering the excitement of the visuals. A particularly special moment was when Coco and Blazar simultaneously played a double-necked bass. As they cuddled up together, they grooved in an oddly touching display of affection. The show closed with the band destroying their instruments in slow-motion, then revealing a Tesla coil which shot electric purple tendrils into the air. I've never seen so many people cheering for electricity. Electric is a word that describes many aspects of the performance, from the stage setup to the members' antics to the music itself, which was a heady rush of Devo, surf rock, jazz and noise. With their performance, Man... or Astroman? put the icing on one heck of a musical cake. Living in the cultural desert of Eugene is dull, but shows like this sure help to carry me through the dry spots.