the modern vampire should stay out of the club. dear lord, they do not know how to rock. invariably, when a vampire sets foot in a club/concert setting we are practically guaranteed the most flaccid, non-threatening musical experience imaginable, doubly so if the band is composed of the undead. you know how to make a goth not scary? turn on a light. pretty boys in fetish clothing playing nĂ¼-metal is not terrifying. exhibit A: this eyeliner tapioca from michael rymer's queen of the damned (2002).

absurd. the intro to tony scott's the hunger (1983) barely fares any better, and that's strictly on pedigree and eroticism. david bowie, bauhaus and catherine deneuve are a more interesting combination than anne rice, korn and whoever that male model was in the first clip. still, not exactly what i would call a menacing use of music. take out peter murphy and you're left with love and rockets. oooooooh. exhibit B (for breasts, don't watch the clip if you have an aversion to them):

it seems so simple and yet it has been screwed up again and again, for as long as there have been vampires, guitars and ladies nights. i'll tell you what i would like to see. i want to go into some shitty punk rock club and see this girl:

 come down off the stage and sing this song:

in john brannon's voice, not changing a single word, about two inches away from someone's face. this tiny, slavering, spitting thing giving you precisely 3:22 to find your coat and then the exit. that would be scary. get it right, saps.

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