The Crüxshadows
Sunday, January 28, Quixote's True Blue, 303-297-1772.
Aging vampires with dunlops spilling out over their PVC stretch pants: The prospect is nauseating, and helps explain the high turnover rate in the world of technogoth. The balding Sisters of Mercy, for instance, are touring on gamey material produced before the Crüxshadows ever plugged in a cord. Trent Reznor, on the other hand, will spend at least another five years picking bugs off himself with tweezers before he's ready to deliver his next effort. As for the more prolific Marilyn Manson, his over-the-top antics are prime fodder for a Saturday-morning cartoon. Hell, the Crüxshadows' consistency and regular output are enough to put the act in charge of a sizable and starved dark-wave audience. Eighties Depeche Mode synth work directs the dance tunes, while frontman Rogue croons with all the overly serious, faux-fey British affectation of Human Drama. True guitar and electric violin keep things organic, if genetically altered. And, as with all your better devil disco, there are plenty of Eastern influences and corseted go-go dancers to go around.
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