BY FRED MILLS

By all accounts, this shouldn't even be happening. I'm standing in the middle of a rock club whose standing-room capacity is only about 950, yet the platinum-selling group onstage throwing down with an energetic set of hip-hop routinely performs in front of thousands of at a time - the coming weekend, in fact, to the tune of about 80,000 sweaty Bonnaroo attendees. Didn't I see these guys once in a sold-out arena sharing a bill with Public Enemy, I think to myself, pinching myself a couple of times just to make sure I'm not actually at home in bed.

Apparently I'm not - nobody in the vicinity is complaining about being disturbed by any snoring on my part - and even if I were dreaming, I definitely wouldn't want to wake up too soon, at least not for the next 130 minutes, which is roughly the amount of time it takes the Beastie Boys to absolutely slay Asheville with a show that's destined in the future to be talked about in the same kind of awed tones that followed in the wake of an unprecedented appearance by Bob Dylan at the Orange Peel several years ago and that weeklong residency the Smashing Pumpkins held down here in 2007.

At this point in time the Orange Peel's reputation precedes it: the Beastie Boys specifically picked the venue voted not long ago by Rolling Stone as one of the top five clubs in America for one of just two warmup shows en route to Bonnaroo. They played the previous night, June 9, at Baltimore's Rams Head Live, although the capacity there is nearly twice that of the Orange Peel, making the Asheville stop quite possibly the smallest place the Beasties have done in over a decade. Following Bonnaroo they won't be doing another concert until July 31, at the All Points West festival, and after that they'll be doing only a handful of other festival dates, including Lollapalooza and Austin City Limits, during the lead-up to the release of new album Hot Sauce Committee in September.

So you might call this kinda special on several levels. The stealth show's announcement was only made 6 days earlier, and tickets sold out virtually in seconds, which partially accounts for tonight's mob scene outside the Orange Peel with folks looking for tickets outnumbering the people standing in line by about 2-to-1. As Phish played a sold-out arena show the night before at the nearby Civic Center, one imagines that at least a percentage of those scrounging for Beasties tix includes Phishphans in search of an additional music fix: the Deadhead-approved "looking for a miracle" signifier - index finger solemnly pointed towards the sky; hopeful expression on face; slightly spacey, dreadlocked girlfriend hovering nearby - is spotted throughout the crowd. It's all pretty much for naught, however. Not a single person I talk to this evening indicates that tickets were obtained secondarily, and in any event, stringent anti-scalping measures (online-only sales; tickets picked up w/an I.D. plus the credit card used for the purchase; immediate entry to venue required) were successfully implemented by the Beasties and the Orange Peel to ensure that odds were stacked against anyone attempting to resell.

With the doors at 7 p.m. and showtime announced for 8, the club fills up swiftly, and right at 8:10 none other than the mighty Biz Markie swaggers onstage and immediately commences rocking the turntables and a laptop. As the sounds of Chic's "Good Times" and David Bowie's "Let's Dance" blare from the P.A., it's clearly going to be an old-school night of eighties-styled hip-hop, and the Biz doesn't disappoint, dropping in everything from Run-DMC and Bob Marley to Grandmaster Flash and the Sugarhill Gang. "I know you remember this," Biz growls, cueing up a track, dropping in his own vocal asides and pointing at the crowd to add their own fills when he drops the music out. Several call-and-response segments up the ante, and by the end of the hip-hop MC's half-hour set the fans are nearly ecstatic - and perfectly primed for the main event.

"Too many dicks and not enough chicks," quips a female friend of mine, as we indulge in some impromptu crowd-watching. Indeed, the audience is probably at least 75%  male (it's the first time at the Orange Peel I've seen longer lines for the men's bathroom than the women's), which from her point of view might not actually have be all that bad a ratio, but it does get me thinking about some comments about the Baltimore concert I read earlier in the day on the Beasties' official website message board. Apparently that audience was heavily male, too, and with a very vocal lunkhead element in the crowd, the Beasties had to contend with the proverbial beered-up fratboys trying to impress their bros by heckling the musicians onstage.

As things turn out, however, any misgivings over how Asheville will treat its guests aren't necessary. Not only are the Peel punters extraordinarily well-behaved and respectful, on at least two occasions the Beastie Boys make a point of telling them what a great crowd they were - particular in comparison to "a bunch of assholes last night" in Baltimore. (Meow.) Judging by appearances, demographically the audience tilts towards the well-over-thirty, so it's safe to say that most of the folks in attendance are longtime Beasties fans from way back, predisposed to kicking back and enjoying the show rather than trying to bum-rush it. (It's possible that some of them were even at that same Beasties-P.E. arena concert I attended nearly 20 years ago.) With greying hair and sensible clothing replacing B-boy baggies, ballcaps and shells the norm tonight, it's also safe to say that the Beastie Boys of 2009 don't look a whole lot different than their audience.

After Biz Markie finishes up with "Just A Friend," he slyly segues into "The Biz Vs. the Nuge," reprising his Check Your Head interlude to serve as band intro: "The Beastie Boys, they comin' on...." And with that the Beasties are comin' on, picking up their instruments - MCA on bass, Ad-Rock on guitar and Mike D at the microphone, plus DJ Mix Master Mike, keyboardist Money Mark and drummer Fredo Ortiz -and catapult headlong into hardcore thrasher "Time For Livin'" (appropriate choice, since on the original CYH album it had segued out of "The Nuge"), followed by "Remote Control" (one of the key tracks from 1998's Hello Nasty). Shedding their guitars, MCA and Ad-Rock next grab their own mics and the trio eases into a sinewy, seriously funky twin-punch of "Root Down" and "Sure Shot" (two of the big hits from Ill Communication), and by this point the entire crowd is in a frenzy of motion, jammed shoulder to shoulder like the human sardines pictured on the front sleeve of Hello Nasty but still managing to wave their fins in the air like, uh, they just don't care. I'm pretty sure I see some folks pogoing, too. Talk about old school.

"This is a very historical moment," Mike D observes, stating the obvious with undisguised glee as he glances around at the club and then exchanges knowing grins with his two fellow MCs. (A couple of days later one of the Orange Peel employees will confirm to me that the Beasties absolutely loved the club and the city. Memo to all bands who play at the theater and arena levels: consider returning to your roots once in awhile. A good time is guaranteed for all.)

From there it's a deep, extended trawl through the Beasties' estimable back catalog as the trio swaps easily between MC and instrument-wielding modes (MCA plays a standup bass on some songs, while Mike D settles in behind his drumkit as Ortiz moves over to other assorted percussion). Several instrumentals were among the highlights - "Ricky's Theme," "Electric Worm," the down ‘n' dirty psychedelic funk of "Sabrosa"  - with the light show projected overhead onto a pair of screens augmenting the experience via negative imaging, colorful overlays and cornea-searing whiteouts. For the Beastie Boys, commentary typically runs along lines of touting their acrobatic mic skills and  hyperactive stage personas, but over the years they've developed into seriously fine musicians; with Mix Master Mike providing his dizzying montages and keyboardist Money Mark adding crucial organ fills, this is as much a full-on rock ‘n' roll band as a seasoned hip-hop crew.

The bulk of the evening's setlist is culled from the Beasties' fertile middle period trifecta - Check Your Head, Ill Communication, Hello Nasty - with seminal '86 debut Ill Communication and 1989's underrated Paul's Boutique represented by just one tune apiece (respectively, "Posse In Effect" and "Shake Your Rump"), nothing from 2004's To the Five Boroughs, and one ("Electric Worm") from 2007's soul-jazz instrumental outing The Mix-Up. They do dip back all the way to their early hardcore punk days for "Egg Raid On Mojo" (although the '82 nugget seems to last all of 30 seconds), and they also unveil the two new songs that appeared on the bonus 7" accompanying the recent vinyl reissue of Check Your Head, fizzy-punky-thrashy "Lee Majors Come Again" and the a capella "B Boys in the Cut." During "Body Movin'" Mix Master Mike assumes command of the P.A., unleashing a mind-bending array of sonics while the three Beasties strut, pose and loon. Another choice visual moment arrives when Biz Markie comes out for his "Benny & the Jets" vocal cameo and decides that right then is the time to remove his shirt - this is not a small man - and while I can't recall whether or not the ladies in the house screamed and swooned, it was a sight just the same.

For the encore Mix Master Mike preemptively takes a solo showcase that's an even crazier sensory assault than previously; it sounds like some nightmarish urban apocalypse punctuated by random shortwave transmissions culled from several generation's worth of aural detritus. As the Beasties bound back onstage he segues into a monstrous "Intergalactic"/"Three MCs and One DJ" twofer that has the aforementioned human sardines slamming back and forth madly. Mike D next serves up some brief sonic and comic relief, donning a wide-brimmed hat and adopting his Dylanesque persona, the much bootlegged Country Mike, to strum "Country Mike's Theme" which merged into the twangy intro for "Heart Attack Man"." Then it was time for a raging, metallic "HAM" proper, which sets things up for an over-the-top, set-closing "Sabotage." At this point the noise from the crowd nearly equals the noise coming off the stage, and beneath my feet I can feel the wooden Orange Peel floor moving up and down. The latter I've experienced on occasion at the club, but never to quite the extent that the Beastie Boys provoked.

In fact, "provoked" may be the operative term for the evening, but in a good way. The feedback loop of energy that coursed between band and audience at this show was as electric as it gets, and aside from my own perspective of being in the middle of an ecstatic crowd, I have no doubt whatsoever that for the Beastie Boys, it was just as good. Maybe they need to consider doing this club thing more often.

Setlist: