On some insignificant backwater planet, there is a concert happening.
The guitarist has a metal arm and insults the audience between sets. The flautist reads a book between sets. The bassist hasn't stopped smoking the entire time. The violinist refused to take off his trenchcoat or any of his guns. The drummer is a brass robot wearing a top hat. The backing singer is a grinning wooden mannequin in a soldier's uniform. And the lead singer, behind the piano, keeps licking their lips when they sing about death?
The crowd loves them.