"This next one is a dick boiler" - The Satans

I wrote this review in my head on my way home from the Bovine, between comparing my bike ride to Mario Kart (I will never again in my life share that link with anybody, it's the worst of my worst) and coming to the realization that I'm a robot.

I went with no intention of reviewing the show but I just couldn't help myself. Seriously, I am a robot.
To be fair though, The Satans actually had me enjoying a ROCKABILLY set, and I am far from a fan of the genre on a normal basis, so that in itself demanded some blog attention.
I guess they were more psychobilly than rockabilly, or maybe JUST psycho. The psycho'er the better'er, though, and on a scale of flaccid to boner my metaphorical dick grew three sizes in the span of one set, and by the end had blown its load all over the Bovine floor, which just ended up looking like snow.
It was fucking fierce. And I don't mean that in the 'Project Runway' kind of way, I mean 'fierce' like it's supposed to be meant:
Adjective: Having or displaying an intense or ferocious aggressiveness.
Showing a heartfelt and powerful intensity.
ferocious - violent - savage - furious - wild - truculent
I had my heart set on comparing the show to Cannibal Holocaust, but in typical Sarah fashion I drank too much and by the time I got home I had completely forgotten WHY I was going to compare the two. It can't be because of the creepy makeup The Satans sport, because they didn't have makeup in the movie... It can't be because of the singer wearing a cape, because Cannibal Holocaust ain't no Batman (unfortunately)... It can't be because the guitarist was wearing a dress... because I don't think they wear much of anything in the movie... maybe it was the way he was awesomely accosting the audience as they walked in the door, propelling himself through the crowd and then doubling back to the stage like he was chained up and couldn't actually reach anybody in order to eat them... like that thing in Super Mario...
Orrrr maybe it was just because the band brutally murdered my eardrums, and totally raped my distaste for that sort of music, giving me Stockholm syndrome so that in the end I was actually in love with them.
Who the fuck knows why I wanted to compare the two. Only past soberer Sarah does I guess, and she's dead.

I'm Sarah. Live fast, diarrhea.