It’s what you get into this game for. The word went out on the grapevine to the select few. Time. Place. Be there. Something very special was on the menu. And so it proved (and I don’t mean Conrad Gallagher’s foie gras, though that was in the back stage rider and it tasted good, very good indeed).

No, this was one of those nights when a little bit of rock history is writ – and you happen to be one of the lucky few to share in the moment. Or at least I do.

It isn’t often that you get to see a rock legend in the seminal stage of their transformation – but when the chosen few were packed in to the B****x Inn and the doors were firmly shut, that’s exactly what we witnessed. And it was good (Sub-ed please check – I think I’ve used that line somewhere before).

The band came on as if to the manor born. Forget their deceptively raggle taggle looks – these guys know that a trip to the hairdressers is as important to their future success as learning all the right chops from Messrs. Blackmore, Kosoff and Satriani. Their image may be Oasis meets Budgie, but – hey – that may just be the zeitgeist as war blitzes Iraq, the ISEQ index totters, and recession looms on a scale that will put the good old ’70s into the shade. Bring on the good times!

So The Transformers – for it is they – look the part. And when they blast into the corruscating introductory riff of their opening song, the volume turned up to eleven and a half, and the light show swinging into spectacular action (amazing what you can do with a few Solus lights) you’re left in no doubt that they have the licks down too.

Lead singer X wrapped his tonsils around a Byzantine melody, Pious shot hot licks from his phallicly projected guitar and in the engine room Spook and Noeler sweated and grunted like a pair of sick pigs on angel dust – sheer magic ensued.

The set was a short one tantalising those present with a promise of what they have yet to see. More riffs! More solos! More wailing and gnashing of cymbals by the redoubtable Spook. No problemo.

When they segued from a sweet blues-based stomper into their debut single, the overwhelmingly catchy ‘Floating In The Deep End’, it was Epiphany Time. The hairs stood up on the back of the neck, the proverbial shiver slithered down the collective spine of the audience and in an instant we were in rock’n’roll nirvana (the place, not the group).

And so it came to pass. Forty five enthralling minutes of sheer rock joie de vivre and they were gone, leaving us awe struck and amazed. The Transformers – the ghost of rock past re-incarnated with a fresh relevance.

And they have a sense of humour too. Watch this space…