One of the best live performances I ever saw was Frank Black, around 98.
Straight 1 1/2 or 2- hour set, no breast, very little talking, just grinding out song after song, sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish market.
It was glorious, and fuck can he rock when he wants to.
I saw them a few years later in Vancouver, 3rd or 4th stop when the Pixies reunited, and even though that I’d probably m favorite band of all time, it that performance didn’t really start to mesh feel like music until the 7th or 8th song in.