"You know," Jake tells me with a small chuckle, "this entire thing is ironic."

"How so?"

"Just with our album and this tour being likened to a horror opera...And then our life becomes one..."

"Are you okay?"

"Nah," Jake tells me honestly, rubbing his hands together and looking at them. But then he lifts his head again. "I don't think any of us are."

"But we will be," I tell him.

He grins. "Of course we will be. Because for as much as the critics raved about the creepy factor, no one has picked up the fact we ended the album--and the show--with a love song."

I smile. "You guys did, didn't you?"

"Yup. So since life is imitating art, here's hoping it continues to do so."

I couldn't have said it better myself.

~

"The new style of Saturn Mutants is being dubbed terror rock."

Gloria is up on her knees. Her tablet illuminates her face as we all listen raptly. She's reading an article from the magazine Rolling Stone.

"Perhaps a subgenre of horror punk, Orion Bauwen's other-worldy vocals transports the listener's psyche into the most terrifying horror film. A first-glance comparison could be made with the artist Sub Urban, but that falls short; it's Sub Urban on crack. Coupled with the incorporation of a grand piano and theremin (executed with a finesse expertise by newcomer Amy Price, Orion's half-sister), Saturn Mutants has created something never heard before. And it's, well, terrifying.

"The entire group works in tandem as one hive mind. But before that, the audience is treated to waiting music until the band takes the stage. And by treated, I mean slowly driven insane by really creepy music box music, distorted so it sounds broken and out of tune. The Rolling Stone professional within me had to stay--the human in me wanted to flee from the disturbing sounds. It was genuinely nerve-racking. Luckily, that is the only bad thing I can say about the entire show. Even that I can't knock it too badly because it served a purpose; a purpose of setting the disquieting mood for what was in store for us.

"The show opens with the song Running. The lyrics are about just that--running and being chased. We're sure though, in typical Orion Bauwen's form, the words are deeper than face value.

"It begins with just vocals, Orion whispering directly into the microphone. Then Ben joins with a bass drum, playing a slow, constant beat, reminiscent of Edgar Allen Poe's The Tell-tale Heart. Shortly thereafter, Amy begins with the theremin, and finally Jake begins to play the same slow, dirge-like melody.

"As the five-minute long song continues, it slowly crescendos, unfurrowing multiple layers. The tempo picks up, matched with Orion's increased vocal volume. Amy impressively plays piano single-handed, still playing her theremin, and Orion joins in with his guitar. The song continues to swell and become frantic until Orion is screeching in his upper-most falsetto range, Ben is pounding away his singular beat like a war drum, Amy has devoted herself entirely to the theremin, and Jake has, unexpectedly, joined in the screaming that Orion is doing.

"Then it abruptly stops. A full, intense, several measure pause. It suddenly picks up right where it left off, which made most of the concert goers (myself included) jump. The tempo increases frantically for the last minute, finally ending in the pained and chilling screams of the entire band all at once."

I look over at Orio, who is grinning ear to ear. I look at the rest of the band and they share the same Christmas morning look.

"The song Reaction is the other testament to their new sound. While of course performing songs in a minor key is nothing new, the way Saturn Mutants executes it is. Lyrically the song speaks about moral conundrums. There's disturbing imagery; angel's using their halo's as nooses, dark shapes stalking you as you sleep, demons pulling you into Hell via a locked closet in an attic. Themes of being lost and looking for an unknown are prevalent and dire.

"Amy takes the lead charge, setting up the eerie sound of the song. She plays a cacophony of strange notes on her grand piano. They don't really fit, utilizing key progressions that don't entirely make sense, notes that sound like they're accidentally played together by an amateur that's just pounding away at the keys.

"However, it's evident that these notes are anything but accidental. It leads to a disturbing atmosphere that sounds like you're trapped in a devious fun house, a fun house that's anything but fun. This atmosphere only continues when at one point Ben abandons his drumkit altogether, instead sawing a plank of wood with a very large saw directly into a microphone.

"Whereas Running begins with Orion whispering, Reaction ends with him feigning a quiet breakdown on stage, whispering and holding his head as it sounds like he's crying. The entire thing makes you wonder how much of the song was pulling from actual experiences, and how much of it was the ingenious vibrato of this wonderful addition, Amy Price."

Amy gasps at that part, clamping both hands over her mouth. I grin at her, as does Orion.

"The entire concert unravels with new twists and turns, keeping the listener at rapt attention. When you think you know where a song is going, it does the exact opposite. Key changes, tempo changes, dramatic, drawn out rests. While all that may sound like a train-wreck of a performance, it's actually pure musical genius.

"This new album, coupled with this tour, Welcome to the Bazaar has done nothing but solidify Saturn Mutants relevance. As if their many accolades weren't enough, this does nothing but prove this band isn't going anywhere anytime soon. And that's a wonderful thing."

For a few heart beats there's nothing but stunned silence. Then Orion throws his fist into the air, shouting.

"We did a thing!"

Everyone goes absolutely ape shit. Everyone is hugging, Amy is bawling her eyes out, Gloria has taken off her elastic headband and is spinning it in a circle over her head. Jake and Ben are holding each other, jumping up and down. It's sheer madness.

But it's the best type of madness. If I could just capture this moment, seal it up tight in a bottle, keep it on reserve for shitty days, I would. But sadly that's not how moments work.

But...The celebration on the bus that day is something I'm never, ever, going to forget.