"Modesty Blaise" and "Body Go Round" have been posted for your listening pleasure.
AMG's Devil's Playlist for today
Jilli, do you have an opinion on these picks?
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Fields of the Nephilim - Preacher Man
I still remember the long line of silent, sullen fans in dusty cowboy hats and weathered chaps with spurs that resembled razor blades on a pinwheel, wrapped around the outside of the Nectarine Ballroom like a curl of smoke. I was in town to pick up the Dead Milkmen's Bucky Fellini on cassette, but went home with a copy of Fields of the Nephilim's Dawnrazor instead. Sure, there were more popular goth bands in the late '80s ( Christian Death, Sisters of Mercy), but none of them dressed like extras in a spaghetti Western and had glowing yellow eyes. Specializing in the kind of post-apocalyptic Old West imagery that would later pop up in songs like Nick Cave's "Red Right Hand" and Tom Waits' "Black Wings," "Preacher Man" combined a ferocious backbeat, Morricone-esque slide guitar, and hoarse doom metal vocals that swallowed lyrics like "when he talks, connected scars reopen" into one of the best night-driving songs ever recorded. If your day job was in Heaven and you commuted between both worlds, this is the tune the local DJ would kick off your commercial-free ride home with. - James Christopher Monger
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Peter Murphy - The Line Between the Devil's Teeth (And That Which Cannot Be Repeat)
Outside of Bauhaus, Peter Murphy is a crooner, but the sexual demeanor, which made him a punk rock god in the early '80s, is still very much a part of his solo material; it's just less abrasive. Next to "Shy," "The Line Between the Devil's Teeth" is one of the louder, danceable tracks on his fourth album, Deep. One might consider it a more polished version of Bauhaus' "In the Flat Field" while others could argue that Murphy's approach mirrors the seared sophistication of David Bowie's mid-'80s albums Tonight and Never Let Me Down. An intense mix of synthesizers, percussion, and guitars kicks off this hyper-stylized track and a thrusting, primal chorus throws "war" and "work" against a man's state of mind. He's sneering when he pronounces "Devil," and it's downright slinky and nasty. The song might sound a bit dated today compared to the raw timelessness of the Bauhaus catalog; however, Murphy's shifty lyrical pattern is just as ferocious and edgy as anything he ever did with his old band. What I like best about this track is how unabashed Murphy is about being a performer. To me, he keeps his punk rock status while giving his two digits to the man. Who cares if he's dancing? - MacKenzie Wilson