maybe ten rows back, a great band fifteen and the amazing ones can bring everyone along, including the dish-pig out back. There are moments in a great show where your heart beats to the rhythm of the kick drum.  The bass line kicks in and you can't help but move your feet, then the guitar breathes to life.  Like an E-chord flavored bolt of lightning it goes through you like shock treatment.  You are the music.  You can't tell where the band ends and you begin.  Then the words are taken from your mouth and the singer tells the world.  There is poetry to the world and a brotherhood amongst the seething mass of humanity that you belong.  A brotherhood of instant karma where you know that this is a moment of your life that you have waited for. I have seen it before, in small venues where a band with a huge stage presence can get the place rocking.  I've seen the real pros do it too.  I was there when twenty thousand people exploded to sound of the opening notes of "Even Flow" in the hay day of Pearl Jam.  I sung with sixty thousand of my closest friends to "Where the Streets Have no Name" in a stadium made for football that U2 had made their own.  But there is something special to be in a little place where the band blows a hole in the back wall. All too often in this world where the DJ