POP REVIEW : Icehouse Kicks Off the Shackles for Its Civic Auditorium Fans

When Icehouse lead singer-guitarist Iva Davies let loose with a ballet kick and guitarist Robert Kretschmer indulged in blatant guitar heroics--all in the first few minutes of the group’s Santa Monica Civic Auditorium show on Friday--it was clear that this sextet doesn’t want to be straitjacketed as dapper young men who craft such politely restrained singles as “No Promises,” “Crazy” and “Electric Blue.”

These Australians see themselves as an unfettered rock ‘n’ roll band, and they showed the far-from-capacity crowd that they can be a very good one.

In the early ‘80s, when the band was a quartet that appealed to a slim slice of the progressive-rock and new-wave audiences, Icehouse affected an aloof presence. The art-school frail Davies, a classically trained oboist, seemed ill at ease on stage. To compound his problems, critics lambasted his warmly elegant vocal style for its Bowie contrivances.

Though comparisons can still be made to Bowie--and Davies’ new theatricality may only fuel such notions--Icehouse works well within the progressive-pop parameters it has set for itself. Friday’s energetic 90-minute set--complete with rear-projected slides and two staircases for Davies to sing from--was a striking showcase for Icehouse’s well-crafted songs, including the rocking “We Can Get Together,” the subtly funky “Can’t Help Myself” and such graceful ballads as “Great Southern Land” and “Man of Colours.”

Still, sometimes Icehouse tried too hard, as if the rock ‘n’ roll spirit could be beckoned by sheer force of will. When keyboardist Andy Qunta, with his keyboards strapped around his neck a la Edgar Winter, kept twirling himself silly while the grimacing, guitar-clutching Davies and Kretschmer leaned against each other in a fever of rock ‘n’ roll posing, you started feeling that anything requiring this much effort may not be worth it.

The approach of England’s Woodentops, which opened the show, couldn’t have been more different. Instead of solidly professional pop, the quintet offered a disheveled hybrid of thrash folk, jackhammer punk and tres tacky disco.

It was all held together by smart-mouthed and outgoing frontman Rolo McGinty, who came across like a vaguely belligerent Ray Davies and spent nearly as much time in the audience as on stage. Eliciting a surprisingly strong response from the California casual audience, the Woodentops endeared themselves through sheer aggression and a defiantly British charisma. But, while tunes like “You Make Me Feel” and “Wheels Turning” have a certain rough-hewn charm, the songwriting isn’t yet up to the concept.