I've got half of an Orb gig from Detroit in 1995, which would make it only a few days removed from their tremendous gig here (a mainstay in all of my Top Ten Gigs Ever lists).

The sound isn't too good, but when gigs are this great it doesn't matter. An OK gig can come off good or great on the bootleg if it's a well-done recording, but great gigs retain their greatness nearly irrespective of recording quality (factors such as crowd chatter, and inconsistent volume or frequency levels are exceptions to this).

The versions and setlist order are pretty much the same as I remember them. "Towers of Dub" had a four minute beatless intro, and when the bass finally hit, the tension in the club completely exploded. Swaying and dancing ensued and the hippies who were camped out in the bass speakers completely lost it and started leaping up and down with the beat.

Then there was the fake ending. The song wound down, only to spring up again from nothing with the bass ever huger than before, but this time accompanied by live drums and percussion. The strange thing is, I'd completely forgotten about this ending -- it had slipped my mind literally for years -- but upon hearing it again it instantly sounded familiar again. And of course, with my memory freshly jogged, I now remember this moment from the gig. If it doesn't exist already, there *needs* to be a name for this phenomenon. It's like not seeing or thinking about an old friend for years, but subsequently running into them in the street and remembering them instantly as well as every silly prank you pulled together in grade 11 English class.