In the Republica Party, Saffron’s the Cheerleader

If the peppy cheerleader type catches your fancy, you’ll probably be just mad about Saffron.

The smiling, bouncy front woman of the new English dance-rock band Republica wasn’t mellow yellow or any other shade of laid-back Wednesday night, turning the stage of the Galaxy Concert Theatre into her own combination gymnasium and go-go platform.

In a monolithic but fetching performance, Saffron hopped, leaped, shuffled, spun, shadowboxed and punched the sky like a pep-squad leader sans pompoms. Meanwhile, the four boys in this machine-driven band turned the clock back 10 years, to a grunge-free era when Britannia’s blips, squiggles and programmed techno-pulse beats ruled the KROQ waves, when it was a New Order world and Depeche was the mode.

Recognizing that grunge and punk have happened, Saffron delivered her confrontational catch phrases with a brashly assertive bite akin to Elastica’s Justine Frischmann, while bandmate Jonny Male sometimes intruded on the twin-keyboard sound with slashing, sustained guitar chords.

The dance-rock ‘80s flashed by in a flurry as Republica raced through nine of the 10 songs from its debut album. The music paused only for Saffron--dressed, No Doubt, for success in tight slacks and obligatory navel-baring T-shirt--to cheerfully admonish the crowd to dance and sweat. Many pogo-ers happily complied.

“Picture Me,” the only song taken at a moderate tempo, found Saffron warbling theatrically from under her lovely, red-streaked, flapper-era bangs like Siouxie Sioux at her most diva-like. “Out of the Darkness,” with Male contributing some John Lydon-style yowling behind Saffron, came off like an outtake from the late-period, dance-oriented Public Image Ltd.

Thematically, the “Republica” album whips through scornful put-downs, pugnacious self-affirmation, blithe lusting and a bit of broadly ironic social commentary. On stage, it all was blended into a message of girls-just-wanna-have-fun (making sure to do it with edgy assertiveness). Spitting out endlessly repeated refrains such as “I wanna get off with you,” “I’m back, I’m ready to go,” “I’m gonna take you on” and “who cares anyway,” Saffron came off like a spunky but innocent kid sister to Shirley Manson of Garbage. Eager to assert herself in the sexual and career games but inexperienced in the consequences that lead to injury and neurosis, her lyrics and delivery don’t begin to comprehend the psychodrama that makes Garbage so rich.

The 42-minute set was short but sufficient: It said all Republica has to say. Barring growth and diversification, the band’s term will probably be limited to the proverbial 15 minutes. If so, it would be worth remembering as a fun interlude.

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The evening offered an above-average East Coast undercard. Love in Reverse, a New Jersey trio, put one foot in Soundgarden-style grunge but sustained interest by pivoting toward the moody, prog-rock guitar textures of a King Crimson. There was a touch of pretentiousness in the set, but there was also a bit of pop-melodic appeal to color the grunge doldrums and lots of strong musicianship producing a full, churning, high-impact sound.

The openers, Thin Lizard Dawn, have a terrible, nonsense name that’s almost impossible to remember. Otherwise, the New York City foursome, an RCA label-mate of Republica, has a lot going for it--starting with the ability to pull off Beatles-style, three-way harmonies so well that you could catch a whiff of 1967. A puckish streak ran through the material, and the band deployed tempo shifts and some whimsical, wobbly guitar bits to interrupt the standard, Posies-style retro-pop approach of catchy tunes paved over with raucous guitars. The band’s debut album is due in March; it contains what sounds like a potential novelty hit in “Sucks,” a survey of the retro-pop landscape that lampoons “the latest fabrication . . . the latest imitations” on the way to a memorably catty punch line: “Stop me if I start to suck--like Oasis does.”