“This is a place for legs to snap. . . like whipcords,” explains Robert to a fresh crowd. Having traveled in from Holiday Inn to the Bijou, the quartet are obviously keen to get into the groove. So keen in fact, that Johnny Toobad keeps belting out the beat a fraction after his bandmates have come to a decisive stop. The usually jaunty Heptaparaparshinokh also has a slightly racy edge to it though this seems to be running out of steam a little toward the end. As if to compensate, the ensuing roar from Fripp’s guitar on Thrang Thrang Gozibulx reenergises both band and crowd - especially the crowd whose fervent yelling threatens to compete. After a rocking version of Dislocated in which Barry Andrews flays his Crumar organ, a clearly psyched up crowd respond sensitively to the down-tempo introspection of the short track called Prelude but listed here as Untitled. After the brief respite, the band begins the climb back up with a thumping Minor Man in which the crisp exchanges between Fripp and Andrews are as sharp as a razor.
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