The El Rey Theatre is a beautiful old art deco marvel located in Hollywood's historic Miracle Mile district. Built in 1936, it served as a first run movie house for over half a century before its conversion to a live music venue in 1994. It's a registered historical landmark, and it's equipped with a beautiful grand ballroom, complete with a a sunken dance floor that runs from the sound booth at the back of the room up to the full size, fully-equipped stage. The soundchecks are, for the most part, fairly leisurely affairs, right down to the somewhat later-than-scheduled starts (apparently a must for this part of the world) Additional Hollywood-esque elements are present in the form of the Element Productions documentary team, headed up by exec producer Eran Lobel (in from Boston) and David Kleiler (currently residing in Los Angeles); they've been at all the shows on this run, gathering yet more material for the ever-growing documentary.

Mike Watt and the Secondmen take the stage first. This is the fourth show that Watt has played in the last 36 hours, having played the opening spot in San Francisco the previous night, then immediately returning to his hometown of San Pedro to play two other shows (one with Secondmen drummer Jerry Trebotic) before heading straight to the El Rey for an abbreviated soundcheck (fortunately, Secondmen organist Pete Mazich, El Rey staffers, and miscellaneous hangers-on had things more or less ready by the time Watt arrived). Many would consider a schedule like this untenable, if not downright insane; for Watt, it's another day in the life, and another in a long string of reasons why he is the one of the hardest working people in the business (or any business, for that matter). The energy on stage is boundless and infectious; they're absolutely psyched to be here, and the audience is delighted to have them. The set is identical to the previous night's, almost down to the times (the songs run within seconds of their San Francisco counterparts—how's that for precision?), and the audience reaction is, if anything, even more intense. When Watt calls out, "Start your own band!" at the end of the set, a lot of people look ready to run out and do that right now! It's one hell of a great way to start what promises to be another unforgettable night.

Following Watt's blistering opening set, Silkworm take the stage before a primed and ready audience. Rather than using a rented kit, Michael Dahlquist is borrowing Secondman Jerry Trebotic's drum set tonight. This turns out to be a little more interesting than planned, as the bass drum starts to move during the set, as if trying to join its owner. Tim Midgett steps in to help—literally, temporarily anchoring the drum by standing on its legs. Someone from the stage crew makes an adjustment to the kit after two songs, which seems to help, at least temporarily, and Silkworm are back on track. They perform admirably, delivering another powerful and passionate set, all the more remarkable as this is the second night in a row that they have played in this potentially difficult spot between two musical legends. The set traverses a broad landscape of experience and emotion; familiar as this has become over the course of this brief tour, there are, as always, many discoveries and surprises along the way for those who care to listen for them. And as before, the audience responds with ever increasing enthusiasm all the way through, and beyond, the closing "Nerves." There is, however, one element that doesn't seem to share in this; by the end of the set, the bass drum has resumed its efforts to get off the stage (producing some highly unusual drum sounds in the process). Fortunately for all involved (with the possible exception of the drum), Tim Midgett once again comes to the rescue and thwarts the rogue instrument's attempts to escape—certainly a novel way for a bass player to anchor the bottom end.

But regardless of what that drum wants, it's not over...not yet.

And here it is. The beginning of the end of this latest cycle in the ongoing chain of inexplicable events launches in earnest with a burst of furious, explosive energy. It's not exactly something that's easily ignored. The sonic pummeling continues until "Einstein's Day" provides a brief respite. But it's only temporary; the onslaught resumes in earnest with a blistering "Peking Spring," followed by the set-closing couplet of "Max Ernst" (retitled "Mike Watt") and "Academy Fight Song." The first set's conclusion leaves a slightly bewildered, well pummeled, and surprised and delighted crowd trying to catch its collective breath.

There's no easing into anything when the second set starts; it's a full-throttle charge up through "Trem Two," which slows things down just enough for "Mica" to knock everyone upside the head. The rest of the set roars by in a blur of raw power, ending in a furious "Learn How" as the stage clears. Momentarily, anyway. Following a romp through the Dils classic " Class War ," Mission of Burma are joined by a special guest—Mike Watt, on lead vocals for a phenomenal cover of the Stooges' " 1970." These are quite possibly the four happiest people on the planet. The mood is highly contagious; the atmosphere is suffused with a fierce, ecstatic, joyous energy. This is almost certainly one of the great defining moments of—well, something. And finally, at long last, Roger Miller reveals the reason that Mission of Burma reunited: "It's to play with Mike Watt."

There's some minor confusion when the band return one last time, but it ends when Peter Prescott starts a now-familiar rhythm while announcing, "I just made the decision." Sure enough, Roger Miller and Clint Conley join in, and they're off with a searing rendition of " Fun World" that gives way to a plaintive " Dead Pool," its poignant refrain asking, over and over, "Where did things go wrong?" But to everyone here tonight, things have gone right for a change.