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The cover of Interpol's newest album, July's Our Love to Admire, shows an artfully photographed exotic goat being taken down by a pair of lions -- a strangely visceral image for a band whose disaffected urban sound has always seemed the opposite of organic. The hip droners hail from Williamsburg, Brooklyn, a neighborhood that's become such a ubiquitous signifier of cool that there's no way it truly can be anymore. The band's 2002 debut, Turn on the Bright Lights, catapulted it to indie fame with its louche urban ennui, like a more red-blooded Joy Division from the colonies. With dark, echoey guitars and edgy, synth-driven dance beats that recall the ominous eroticism of early Pulp, Interpol cultivated a certain bored-but-sexy after-hours malaise that has been greatly mimicked. Our Love to Admire shows it experimenting with grander, soaring gestures and longer songs. Still, the death-goes-to-the-disco vibe still lurks, and that's what the kids want to dance to. Liars open. Tickets $26.50. -- Alison Fensterstock

8 p.m. Sun., Sept. 23

House of Blues, 225 Decatur St., 310-4999;

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