Nickell’s Bag

There’s nothing remotely retro about the Evangelicals; and yet, in spirit and some specifics, the band hearkens to nothing so much as the Cure, circa 1985. That’s due most directly to singer Josh Jones’ voice, which hauntingly hearkens to Robert Smith’s famously fragile yelp, minus the Brit accent. But even beyond that surface similarity, the Evangelicals seem to innately get the formula that made the Cure such a balm to disaffected indie-kids two decades ago: That peculiar blend of darkness and light, of sing-song melodies against bleak beats.

It’s a shared sensibility that plays out in distinctly fresh ways with the Evangelicals, whose tastes range much farther afield than one ever heard on a Cure album, and whose blazing instrumental chops belie the sometimes naïve and raw feel of their music. With a bent toward psychedelic pop and dense layers of seemingly unrelated textures, the band shares more than a home state with fellow Oklahomans the Flaming Lips, as well.

All of the elements are there in “Skeleton Man,” an episodic, four-and-a-half minute track that covers more ground that many bands cover in an entire album: From perky emo-pop to industrial noise to chiming anthem, and back again.

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The Evangelicals appear this Saturday, Nov. 7, at the Palace Lounge, with Holiday Shores and locals the Racquet.