POP MUSIC REVIEW : MESSENGER’S PERFUNCTORY, GLITZY FUNK

Messenger is a band from Philadelphia that’s made a stir on the Los Angeles club scene by acting as if it’s from Minneapolis.

In other words, just about anything that’s notable about Messenger’s perfunctory funk--as seen in a showcase gig Monday at the Beverly Theatre--can be traced directly to Prince and his Minnesota stable of musicians.

Between all the long coats on stage, the bare chest and strategically fitted pants of the lead singer, the taped message from God and the lyrical obsession with sex sex sex sex sex, it was painfully obvious that this hyper-derivative nine-piece outfit owes little to the Philly sound and everything to the Minnie sound.

It would take a flight of fantasy to imagine music with less originality or conviction, but it wasn’t lacking in glitz. In one of the most misbegotten stage gimmicks of all time, bassist Dino Stewart always wears a mask over his lower face, even when singing or doing interviews (a decision he’ll undoubtedly live to regret should the band achieve any kind of longevity). But who says you can’t have a little mystery with your bump ‘n’ grind?

Make no mistake, this is a band that wants a record contract.

Don’t bet against that happening. Lacking much force in the synth-driven funk, Messenger would initially seem to be of appeal chiefly to (a) regular patrons of Chippendale’s and (b) folks who just can’t wait for the next Mazarati or Ready for the World album. Then again, these guys might just be crass enough to really make it.