ADULT. concerts recall the oft-staged movie scene in which a straitlaced, sheltered character must navigate an unfathomably freaky nightclub thanks to some plot contrivance. (After a song or two, concertgoers familiar with Martin Scorsese's After Hours will be surprised they didn't have to submit to a bizarre haircut before walking in the door.) The Detroit trio's scratchy guitars sound as though metallic fingers were scraping the strings, and its death-rumble bass lines throb like an inhumanly persistent horror movie villain's unstoppable pulse. The sporadic percussive clatter can make dancing difficult, while Nicola Kuperus's ominous vocals ("you best be careful") hint at unspeakable consequences. Immersion in this environment reveals unknown pleasures -- initially foreboding phrases become darkly humorous, rhythmic patterns in the chaos -- and eventually even the uninitiated will admit this daunting death-disco isn't so scary after all. However, these melodies often return to score post-show nightmares, adding a creepy cinematic coda.
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