Danzig

Perhaps the most ironic thing about a form of music as testosterone-driven as heavy metal is that, for decades, it was more about sacrificing virgins than deflowering them. Beginning with Black Sabbath, metal has been the Black & Decker of music: loud, overpowering, and more often than not, sure to send females fleeing.

But Danzig gave Satan some needed sex appeal. When the group dropped its sweaty, libidinous self-titled debut in ’88, it appealed to ladies as much as longhairs. Sure, some of that probably had to do with frontman Glenn Danzig himself. All bulging pectorals, pneumatic pelvis, and dark, brooding allure, he’s been playfully called the Evil Elvis. His coyote howl and doomsday prose, combined with John Christ’s primal blues riffs, fashioned Danzig into a demonic Doors.

It all worked perfectly for two more albums, but then Danzig became as enamored of Pro Tools as protein shakes, resulting in three lukewarm, industrial-leaning records that met with diminishing sales each time out.

But on Danzig’s recently released seventh album, I Luciferi, the group begins to regain lost momentum. New guitarist Todd Youth (who’s kicked around with Murphy’s Law and DGeneration) offers an immediate boost. And with Danzig handling production chores for the first time, Luciferi is the band’s rawest-sounding record in more than a decade. When the band hits Peabody’s next week, the petting may be as heavy as the metal.

This article appears in Jun 27 – Jul 3, 2002.