Best Shows of 2013: Pere Ubu at the Biltmore Cabaret, December 15

Seeing a decrepit David Thomas, his gigantic frame slouched on a chair, ratty in suspenders, boots, and a trench coat, eyes mostly closed and slit-thin behind equally thin spectacles (could he even see anything through them?), reading from a lyric book whenever he required a prompt, characteristically (caricaturistically) spouting essentially sexist in 2013 in 2003 in well any time comments and stories and half-truths and bold- read: scrunch-faced lies, flanked by percussion and a single guitar that bent around, stabbed through, knotted, seesawed, played sonic tug-of-war with each other within the radioactive sphere of charged Theremin sounds, each note an atom on a collision course, until it was show's over get the fuck out of here fuck the opening band whatever they were called I don't give a shit, Ford Pier Vengeance Trio happily eat it with smiles only because it's David Thomas, who struggles to stand, achingly limps, surprised there was an immediate encore, mere feet in front of my eyes, was one of the most powerful musical experiences of my life.