That man, of course, was Jerry Jerry. Between then and now not much has changed.

Jerry's been around a long time. He's not going away any time soon. Sure, every now and then he disappears, but always, eventually, resurfaces. I guess when you've got that much to say, you just can't enjoy quality time by yourself.

For the time being, for the past decade or so, he has thrown off the robes, and has hooked up with a sect of like-minded poets and prophets, The Sons of Rhythm Orchestra. His teachings now come thinly veiled in a guise of good ol' punkabilly indie-rock.

In this incarnation, Jerry Jerry has recorded four albums, three with The Sons Of Rhythm Orchestra. Each and every one of them is jam-packed full of rhythm, groove and wisdom. Oh God, the wisdom. Apparently, the time had come, or, rather, the world was ready for Jerry to record a live album. The band would perform, and record, two live shows. These teachings are to become the live CD, tentatively titled, The Night Of The Living Jerry Jerry.

Those of us at Lowcrats are long-time disciples of Jerry Jerry. It went without saying that we would congregate to bear witness to the creation of a new testament in the Gospel of Jerry.

Shaggy D and I met Dr. Jimmy Mahonahan, "Sweet" Lou Ambrosia, El Hombre, Dutch and local resident Dominos Magnuson, in Edmonton, Alberta on that which would come to be known as Great Friday - the day of the first night of recording. Shaggy D and I arrived early in the evening, only slightly after the others.

The best way to experience the word of Jerry is to be as drunk as he is. I'm here to tell you, that's not easy. The guys were already well ahead of Shaggy and I. We had some catching up to do. Thankfully, it was nothing that a stiff glass of bourbon and a bottle of barley wine couldn't fix.

The guys were road-weary from a long drive from Saskatchewan. They (driver excluded, of course) had started prepping for the concert at the Alberta border - about 4 hours past. That much time spent imbibing in the confines of a moving vehicle will take its toll on even the most seasoned drinker. They looked like hell, smelt like shit, and were kinda punchy. It made me smile to myself - partly because I was glad it wasn't me, and partly because I knew that Jerry would miraculously fix it all. That's one of Jerry's gifts. He can make almost anything better.

We arrived at the club shortly before the warm-up band went on. Jerry Jerry was already there. He was pacing around madly, consuming alcohol with astonishing focus. Being a spiritual leader must be stressful. You probably need the booze to take the edge off. It's a little known fact that this is the real reason that dude from a while back took to turning water into wine.

No one, I mean no one has the stage presence of Jerry Jerry.

After 45 minutes of excruciating waiting, it was finally time for the service to begin. The Sons of Rhythm took the stage broke into a familiar hymn. Moments later, Jerry exploded into the spotlights. The club filled with electricity.

No one, I mean no one has the stage presence of Jerry Jerry. He is a showman through and through. With one hand he growls and wails into a microphone, with the other he grabs you by the back of the head and forces you to pour alcohol down your throat.

The evening very quickly became a blur of beer and dancing. A sea of people twisted, writhed and thrashed about me. I looked around me, and saw that it was good.

I would love to give some more detail here, but frankly folks, I blacked out. I think it might have been Rapture. Or, I suppose, it could have been all the fucking beer. I imagine that it is most likely to have been some combination of the two.