I had no idea what to expect on this road trip. I didn't know the people with whom I would be staying, I'd never been to Tampa before. And I'd heard only two songs by Absolute Zero, the band we were going to see. I was secretly a little nervous about the whole thing. Knowing you'll be sleeping on a stranger's couch in a strange town is sort of disconcerting for a homebody like myself. "You'll get along great," Jason, my traveling companion, kept insisting about his friend Tommy, who would be putting us up for the night after the concert. "And what are the members of Absolute Zero going to be like?" I wondered. These are R.I.O. musicians. "They're probably really weird and abrasive personalities. Isn't RIO founding father Chris Cutler supposed to be the most argumentative rock musician in the world or something?" Jason was dead set on talking to them as much as possible. I just wanted to see the show, say hi, maybe get an autograph and leave.

My worries began to evaporate when we finally reached the Spring Theater the night of the show. Some of my preconceptions were dispelled immediately. I was expecting a packed concert. I reality, there were only about five cars in the parking lot and it was just about full. "They really didn't advertise this very well," I thought. We walked in the door and told the man sitting at the table we were on the guest list. The man had short bleached blond hair and was wearing a jogging suit. Europeans seem to wear jogging suits a lot. He had an English accent. Though I had never seen him before, I knew who he was. Jason chatted with him and looked at the CDs for sale on the table. It eventually dawned on him. "Oh you're Pip Pyle!" he stuttered in amazement. (Duh!) Yes, this cashier and CD peddler was Pip Pyle, formerly a drummer for Gong, Hatfield and the North, National Health, etc. Not a household name. Not a Neil Peart or even a Bill Bruford in terms of fame, but of comparable skill – and of legendary pedigree in hardcore prog circles. Here we were talking to someone after whom we had once named a cat! He commented on Jason's Gong shirt. We also met and talked with Aislinn Quinn and Enrique Jardines. Both were friendly and talkative, but Enrique, with whom Jason and I had both exchanged several e-mails in the past, and our unofficial host for the evening, exemplified the word friendly. He hugged us and told us we had been in the hearts and minds of the band members. He thanked us profusely for coming and for supporting the band through publicity on Dreams Wide Awake (Jason's internet radio show) and Reels of Dreams Unrolled. So much for my preconceptions. Enrique seemed almost too nice to be true at first, but his gracious nature was sincere.

We also learned how Enrique had managed to enlist Pip Pyle in the band. Enrique had lived in England for a time in the '70s. For a while, he slept on the floor at Alan Gowen's house – the very same house where National Health was rehearsing at the time. Hence, the Miami/Canterbury connection.

We also soon discovered that this was not exactly a concert, but a recording session. The Spring Theater appeared to be an old movie theater which had been retrofitted as a recording studio. The "show" was apparently only for a select few individuals who had been invited or the even fewer who just paid to get in the door. Among those who showed up were a DJ for a local public radio station, some middle-aged jazzers and a large, hairy man with a strange accent who I'm sure said he was a pot head pixie – or something like that. All in all there were only about a dozen people in the attendance. I casually eyed the several vintage keyboard instruments sitting in a neat row against a wall near the door. Among them were an old Hammond organ and a Fender Rhodes piano. I fantasized about getting to hear or even play one of these lovely old dinosaurs, but I knew they probably weren't going to be dusted off tonight.

We sat in the first of only two rows of folding chairs on the floor of the theater. The show started later than expected, and there was an opening band. We weren't prepared for this in more ways than one. The opener was a free jazz group called the Yarbles Trio. Their name was as enigmatic as their music. Two of the trio were very well dressed, distinguished looking middle aged men. They could have been doctors or lawyers for all I knew. The drummer was also completely normal looking, but not as nicely dressed. They casually and quietly began to play. It wasn't long before I was completely amazed by this band. This was as far out as just about anything I had ever heard. Now I know what "free jazz" means. It seemed to be completely off the tops of their heads. Speedy, reeling saxophone solos reigned supreme, followed by some very unorthodox drumming and percussion. It wasn't really violent or loud. It just completely bent the rules of conventional melody or structure. Once the sax player switched to a trumpet, but played it with his sax reed. Then he switched the reed to his trumpet mute and played that! The result sounded something like a duck call. These guys were obviously very talented and fun to watch, but I can't say I actually "got" the music very much. The jazzers in the audience dug the whole thing. It was an interesting and eye-opening experience to say the least.

After a long break, Absolute Zero took the stage. Although there were only three musicians, they spread from one end of the stage to the other – presumably for recording purposes. Pip Pyle made an announcement about how this wasn't going to be a typical, "slick" rock show. He warned us that they would start over if they made any major mistakes. With that, the show, such as it was, began. Unfortunately, for us, it began with something of a whimper. Aislinn's keyboards and microphone were not running through the house speakers, so all we heard was drums and bass for the first few minutes. Eventually this was corrected and the band continued to rip through their set. Most of the songs began with a drum assault from Pip. His drumming was muscular and complex. His presence lent a great deal to the improvement of the band's sound. On the band's only CD release, A Live In the Basement, which was recorded with a different drummer, the sound was much more rigid and electronic. Pyle's background in jazzier realms and his mostly acoustic drum set helped to bring some very welcome organicness to the band's sound.

Our friend Enrique became a different person on stage. This short, soft spoken man became a sinewy bundle of energy once he strapped on his bass guitar. He worked up a sweat as he bounced around on the theater floor, though for a couple pieces he had to restrain himself to read the musical charts on a stand in front of him. His playing style and highly distorted sound recalled Üdü Wüdü-era Magma, but he often went beyond that heavy, distorted, slightly funky style into territory bassists rarely tread. Flamenco style finger picking, chords and a bona fide lead guitar solo were all in his repertoire this evening.

Aislinn's keyboard playing and vocals sounded much the same as they do on A Live In the Basement. Her vocals were almost constantly processed with a drastic harmonization effect. Her sense of vocal and instrumental melody fell right in line with the R.I.O. style pioneered by Henry Cow, Art Bears and Thinking Plague. That is to say it was completely unconventional and unpredictable. Extremely angular melodies and falling-down-the-stairs rhythms are her forte, and this night was no exception.

It was a welcome sound when the band began to play "Paradigms" from A Live In the Basement. It was the only piece we had heard before. It was in expanded form this night and it sounded better than on the CD.

This performance revealed a looser, more instrumental side to the band than would have been expected by listening to their CD. Whether or not this will be preserved on the new full length CD to come from this performance remains to be seen. The band's sound has improved, however, and a new level of energy seemed to be feeding all three musicians.

Things loosened up even more at the end of the show when Absolute Zero were joined by the Yarbles Trio and several members of the audience for a long jam. Most people found something in the Yarbles drummer's bag of percussion objects and junk (literally) to bang on. Some people were in time, some weren't, but it didn't matter much because most of them dissolved into the polyrhythmic stew anyway. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. I declined to join because I am more of a stringed instrument kind of guy.

After the show we talked to Enrique some more, said our goodbyes and headed back to Tommy's house, where I slept on the couch and suffered the worst cat allergy attack of my life. It could have been much worse. Tommy and his parents were very friendly hosts. And I didn't have to argue with any R.I.O. musicians.