POP MUSIC REVIEW : Surprise! The Nymphs Can Rock

New grind-rock heroes the Nymphs, who knocked around the L.A. underground circuit for most of the ‘80s before signing with Geffen Records, have been notorious for many reasons, few of which have to do with their music: contracts supposedly signed in blood . . . supposedly real maggots stuffed in singer Inger Lorre’s mouth for the group’s current video.

But at the Roxy on Thursday, playing among many, many, flickering santeria candles, the Nymphs had a surprise for followers who hadn’t really caught up with the band since Lorre’s days of stomping off the stage at Raji’s or the Scream: a full, coherent, sound of its own. There’s apparently more to the band than Lorre’s self-destructive Janis Joplin glamour.

The Nymphs’ sound was always bottom-heavy, but now it’s tight and bottom-heavy, with a compelling sort of Sex Pistols-meets-Jane’s Addiction groove, but at a crushing, somnolent tempo. Almost in spite of themselves, they rock.

And Lorre as usual, trademark feathers in her hair, riffed through more contradictory emotions in a half-hour set than you’ll see in a month of soap opera, emotionally exhausting both herself and the audience. And each of the many stage divers who leaped from the audience seemed compelled to give Lorre a protective hug.