“No it’s not. It’s not inhuman at all. I quite like it.”

I love my girlfriend, but sometimes… She’s right, though: Wolf Eyes aren’t inhuman at all. The noise they create – and it is noise – might sound like metal scraping metal in the fiery depths of Hell, but it’s as mortal as we are. To prove it, there are three guys – as flesh and blood as you or I – on stage, scraping metal against metal and pressing buttons that are almost certainly red and marked ‘Do Not Touch – Danger Of Death’.

At least one of my senses dies when the button’s stomped like an empty beer can. Was that Death or Deaf?

Thankfully, it mumbles back to life in time for Lightning Bolt, only to be utterly eradicated all over again. Really, forgetting to pick up earplugs from Boots on the way here was stupid, as the dynamic duo rip through a trademark set of earbleeders. Sure, they’re dumb as a pig rolling in shit, but the punters surrounding them – on the floor, of course – are as happy as a pen-full of the buggers. Hands are waving articles of clothing that I can’t make out; bodies are cramped like some sick game of sardines. For the placid, there’s a handy projection showing exactly what’s going on down front. Like you need me to tell you, it’s rock and roll, maaaan.

They play ‘Assassins’. Kids go crazy. I lose myself in the music. Rather, I lose part of myself.

I don’t hear the bus, at all, all the way home. Just the insects and their endless war...
...and my girlfriend, telling me she was right.