It was 500 degrees downstairs at the Middle East in Cambridge.  Jam packed with sweaty, drunk, Rock fans checking out the Blast Furnace that is Chickenfoot.  Ice cold PBR Tallboys were being hoisted high while the hot MILFS that may or may not have been on the Van Halen tour bus in 1992 shook their 2009 asses to the mighty groove being laid down by Chad Smith and Michael “Fuckin” Anthony.  They were like a oil derrick, pumping the rhythm into the crowd, who were forced to gyrate some part of their bodies.  Sammy Hagar kept it light as is his forte.  He’s like the Jimmy Buffet of hard Rock.  Encouraging the crowd to keep the buzz and the joints rolling.  His best line of the night was, “My hotel room is bigger than this place.”  Spoken like a true rock star.  As he wailed the blues about not getting enough hummers and running out of beer, Joe Satriani channeled his inner Hendrix.  It was nice to see Joe just rip into the foundation set down by Chad and Michael.  The other three made the usually stoic and technical Satriani surf the wave.  Cutting and spinning out crazed solos and beautiful melodies when needed.  That’s the key to this band.  Playing what is needed.  Laying back and swinging in when the opportunity calls.  They weren’t afraid to extend the jams and improvise.  Fearless grooving, not noodling.  Always remembering the most important bar band rules: Keep the crowd dancing, drinking, sweating.  They played the entire debut album from start to finish.  The crowd ate it up, psyched to see these seasoned veterans up close under a low sealing dripping with sweat. At times Satriani’s guitar sounded like a Jumbo Jet landing at the bar.  Other times it shimmered like sheets of rain(or sweat).  The whole time they were all smiling.  Laughing with the knowledge that they have the best jobs in the world and have nothing to prove or lose.  I almost lost it when Michael Anthony whipped out the Jack Daniels Bass. Pouring out snake like bass lines, working the same haircut he’s had since “Women And Children First”. We all left central Square deaf and soaked. Smelling of beer.  Worked over.  My liver hurts.