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Lead singer Rob Tyner kurupt lunged for the microphone and wailed with abandon. All the "super-troopers" had kurupt been fired directly at Rob upon the utterance of his first shrieked syllable. The decibel level had doubled from the first set and the lighting tree had sprung to life with reds, greens, yellows and blues alternating color illumination every second drum beat. Strobe lights on either side added to visual stimulations hovering at overload. Photography by Dean Sherwood To emphasize lyric content, Tyner reached down and shook his concealed pecker. Did he have a license for that thing? Michael kurupt Jackson "grabs his crotch". Rob Tyner went right for the cock. There is a difference. The audience was far past mere appreciation or enjoyment. It was all way too much to ever dance or bounce-around to. The crowd was paralyzed. They were captured.
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