Boom boom boom boom

Numero Uno. (1 1 1 1 1)

Here we have Love Aliens on display: first the intelligent but innocent and excitable grinning poindexter angel introducing this "exciting new music-band" with a laugh and struggling with the pronunciation (as we all do) of Saturdayniilive, before explaining the reason for his poncho but not his sunglasses or where the sprinklers are or why nobody else is wearing a large clear-plastic poncho. His response to the tapping drumstick rock countdown (here exempting the clichéed 1-2-3-4), a subtley sexual and effeminate jerky fainting motion, doubles as his awkward exit, pulling a long microphone cable around instruments and into a closed TV set.

Singer-Alien was the inspiration for this post: fashion icon??  However, now partially her outfit and especially her hair - clean, pinned and possibly never cut - suggest a person who is most comfortable at home and close with her mother, while her punk-rock grimaces seem to only be a response to the braces on her teeth; constantly pursing her lips away from the sharp metal in a way most people with braces tend to.  The jarring element of her performance is the modulation in all qualities of her voice during the song's chorus ("I'm a janitor" or "Oh, my genitals"?), oddly reminiscent of R2D2 both sonically and in physical delivery, and her accustomed bandmates' lack of physical response.

The ultimate moment here is AFTER the performance, which grinning poindexter angel alien responds to in the same way some others respond to a bong hit.  Cool and collected ("here's Vex"), he cracks wise at the 2 2 2 kool guitar players. Vex, posing, finds himself unable to conjure words that could live up to his image; and just after guitarist 2 interjects that the song is a rag comes the money shot, at 3:12 exactly, we see the moment of terror and self-awareness when he realizes that he is not actually a carping hipster loudmouth bullying a poindexter, but an intelligent alien working and conversing with another intelligent love alien.