There’s a moment in every show where you know it’s about to go off the rails. This week? That moment involved a kazoo. DJ Celeste (DJ Tea) built the detonation chamber (psychedelic pop, novelty brilliance, machine love, cartoon boyfriends) and then handed me the fuse. My Love Explodes wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t meant to be. And honestly? Neither are we. (If you’re curious what happens after the curtain closes… stay tuned.)