The flyer I received in the mail - well, at first glance I took it as someone's idea of perverse humor. It advertised Kevin Ayers touring the US - for the second time in less than a year! Sure. And as an opening act, his old Canterbury and Majorcan chum, the Divided Alien. A joke? A dream? In fact, Dr Dream was to play again before an American audience, crooning once more his blues - colored moon songs from the bottom of his magical well. He'd cancelled his February Cleveland date due to sudden illness, so this would turn out to be his first Cleveland appearance in 25 years. March 26, 1968 was his previous stop in the city as one third of Jimi Hendrix' opening act, the Soft Machine. At that time I was living in Detroit and more interested in the Monkees than either Hendrix or some obscure English psychedelic artrock band. I wondered if Kevin had changed as much as I had these last 25 years.

There were actually three acts on the bill, Nick Riff started the show, though I'm sorry to say I missed his act and can't offer a review ( he has a fine album on Delerium label called 'Freak Element' - Ed.) I arrived about five minutes into Daevid Allen's set. As with Kevin, this was my first time to see the Melbourne madman. The club itself was packed, roughly 80 to 100 people, all paying rapt attention to this lanky, black-clad figure with his flowing bundle of white hair.

One of the planet's first and last remaining hippies (and more power to him), Allen alternated between mantra-like strumming on his white acoustic guitar ('Away, away') and intense poetic recitals ('Poet For Sale') occasionally backed by synth tapes and audience clapping. He performed one or two numbers from Gong's new Shapeshifter disc, as well as 'Death of Rock' and the grand 'Negotiate' from Gong Maison. Some tunes I didn't recognise (I confess ignorance of latter-period Allen/ Gong), though I do recall a brave rendition of a 'non-judgemental' song about rape, as well as a hilarious song about sex ('does anyone out there not like sex?....c'mon, be honest!'). Allen ended his set with the mouth-watering 'ole Kev will be up here shortly', then sat cross-legged in front of the stage to sign banana moons.

'Twas at this point that my imagination did cartwheels. Would Kevin show up drunk? Would he show up at all? Twenty minutes later there he was, quietly arranging things on stage, thin, shaggy-haired, dressed in jeans, sneakers and a brown leather jacket. He walked casually to a stool, took one swig of beer and strapped on his guitar. 'Could somebody please dim the lights up here a little? It's a bit bright.' Ahh, vintage Ayers. AS he confidently wandered from one wonderful tune to the next I was amazed at how strong his voice was - all those cigarettes and draughts of wine hadn't affected his singing one bit. His guitar playing, additionally, displayed a technique which belied my longheld impression of him as a mere strummer. Yes, he hit a couple of flat notes, but shrugged them off with an epithet and a grin.

He opened with 'Shouting In A Bucket Blues' followed by the newer 'I Don't Depend On You' (joking 'nothing personal' to the crowd). He announced his next song would be a 'humorous' one. I expected 'Mr Snake' and came close when he jumped into 'Mr Cool' from the Mananas release. The characteristic, languid 'Champagne and Valium' followed, then 'See You Later'. End of show already? No, Kevin was just warming up. He played another new tune, 'There Goes Johnny', then 'When Your Parents Go To Sleep' (I completely forgot about Archie Leggett's vocals on the album version during Kevin's performance).

Suddenly, Kevin's confidence brimming, he called out for his old Soft Machine playmate to join him on stage! 'Daevid! Get up here....hey! Australian!' The audience seemed stunned. What a night! Alas, too good to be true. Allen must've been circling Cleveland in a teapot or perhaps he was on the toilet. Cries for 'Softs!' and 'Memories!' soon quieted, and Kevin closed his set with an especially ghostly version of 'Lady Rachel'.

Ayers' intermission was brief. After sidling to the shadows at the edge of the stage to sign some autographs and chat amiably with fans, he slipped off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and started into the classic 'May I'. The material which followed was likewise choice-quality Ayers: 'Interview', 'Everybody's Sometime Blues', 'Thank You Very Much' (where his voice touched the bottom of the human vocal register). He introduced 'Stranger In Blue Suede Shoes' with a coy smiling 'one of my minor successes'. The rarely performed 'Two Goes Into Four' closed the second set.

This was truly a remarkable show. Not only was Kevin in peak form, but the crowd (some sitting in wide-eyed rapture at the foot of the stage ) visibly appreciated the chance to see a justifiable legend. Kevin was called back to play two encores ('Didn't Feel Lonely' and 'Blaming It All On Love'). Both encores had Kevin smiling like a Cheshire cat. 'It's getting too late! Thank you.' The second encore caused him to glance at his watch and remark 'You're very kind, but I don't think I know any more songs! The titles, maybe......'

As our hero struck the closing chords of 'Blaming', I noticed for the first time a bead of moisture on his cheek.....perspiration, or perhaps a tear of appreciation? (probably spilt tequila). Kevin then disappeared again into the shadows while the crowd reluctantly filtered from the room. It was then that I spied Daevid Allen ambling slowly towards the stage, a bright mystical smile stretched 'tween his rosy cheeks. Either he showed up belatedly to join Kevin in song, or he wanted to congratulate his long-time friend on a magical show. Looking back, I'm certain it was the latter.

PETER 'Lucky At Last' KURTZ