If Iggy Pop, the godfather of punk; James Brown, the godfather of soul; and Peter Murphy, the godfather of goth, went at it in some semi-supernatural brawl, Murphy would be the undeniable winner. He'd probably morph into a vampire bat and suck them (un)dead, leaving two fashionable pearls of blood on their necks. This is why Murphy in his Bauhaus heyday was cool: because he was fucking scary. But strip away the tight, black clothes and the ghostly pallor, and there was a pop fan hiding in the darkest crevices of his gullet. Murphy's solo music could turn the toughest Hot Topic mall rat into a pop-conscious pussycat. But no matter how ungoth the synths backing him through most of his solo career, his baritone still sends chills. 18+.
Mon., June 16, 7 p.m., 2008
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