Join me, fellow Clinton-era nostalgists, in remembering a time when Marilyn Manson was America’s most dangerous rock star. Back then, the pasty-faced frontman terrified housewives, culture warriors and talk show hosts with blasphemous, industrial-tinged albums like Antichrist Superstar (which, I must say, actually holds up OK). Now 46, and enjoying an acting career in addition to music, the man formerly known as Brian Warner has (mostly) toned down the cartoony Satanist schtick in favor of a slicked-back death-rock groove. Manson’s latest, The Pale Emperor, showcases his newfound restraint. It may not freak out your parents, but it might freak you out to discover how relevant it sounds.
7:30 p.m. $70. georgiatheatre.com
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