X____X

Van Gogh never got his due; while he was alive, at least. Neither did William Blake. Poe died penniless. There was a time when it seemed that one John D. Morton was destined to follow in such tragic footsteps. Following his muse for the last forty-odd years has led Morton down some dark alleys, but score one for the freaks -- and maybe the internet -- because, against all odds, Morton, professional artist and shit-stirrer, is finally getting his due. The man hasn’t met a convention he hasn’t mocked, or a rule he hasn’t kicked in the ribs til it broke. If they handed out MacArthur Genius grants for misanthropy, Morton would be short-listed.

Morton’s main claim to fame is his mid-’70s Cleveland band of nihilistic rock n’ roll lowlifes, electric eels. The eels plied their trade surrounded by post-industrial strife, the crumbling landscape providing inspiration  -- and a reason to get the hell out. But before Morton pulled up stakes for New York City, he made one more attempt to give Cleveland the soundtrack it deserved. X__X terrorized the city’s punk scene with a smart and muscular take on no wave, which Morton had already prefigured with the eels. X__X were more “musical” than the eels, as evidenced by their two singles, collected, along with unreleased and live material, on this year’s essential XStickyFingersX(Ektro). This past Thursday, X__X played the Cake Shop and proved, beyond a doubt, that you’re never too old to smash yer art into yer punk and vice versa.

The set started off a bit shaky, but after a too-quiet run-through of “You’re Full of Shit,” guitars were turned up to their proper volume and the band roared to life. Grinding versions of art-puke classics like “No Nonsense,” “A.” and “No No” followed, hammered out with conviction by Morton’s cohorts -- original member Andrew Klimek, Rocket From the Tombs’ Craig Bell and drummer Matt Harris. At one point, Morton whipped out an electric saw and used it to systematically sever a length of bamboo. Why? Why the hell not? The band crashed back into their set as if it had been a tuning break. Speaking of tuning, Morton’s other obscuro Clevo outfit, Johnny & The Dicks, didn’t bother, as they posed in rock-out freeze-frames while a friend snapped photos. Prescient as ever, it seems Morton invented “vogue-ing” years before Madonna. A reprise of “No Non cents” had the crowd howling for more, and during the set-ending anti-anthem “Cleveland Sucks,” even Morton, high priest of fuck you, couldn’t suppress a smile.