They are nothing but fakery and thus reveal all truths. It’s a cavalcade of wigs, costumes, lip-synch, playback and sheer goofy theatrics, like a Bladerunner Cabaret hosted by Baron Munchausen. Electro-clash performances can be an exercise in keyboard gazing, but the Fischerspooner folk put on a goddamn show.

Everything I said earlier about the 80s coming back is trebled for Fischerspooner. The initial outfits they wear put one in mind of what Anne Rice dreamed Lestat would wear while sucking on Adam Ant’s neck. Then they whirl through a host of identities, hoop dresses, rainbow chaos suits, partial male nudity, fishnets, T-shirts “ARTISTS HAVE MORE FUN,” and it’s in constant motion. Profane and bitchy choreography proclaims, “Britney Spears, eat your heart out.” They spout standard “Rock is dead” bullshit, but it’s clear they’ll steal anything from anyone, from Bowie posturing to Eurhythmics gestures to Anthrax crowd-surfing. Casey Spooner is camp gone to eleven and he berates the crowd for wanting their hit single “I want you guys to sing the fuck along!” just as he loves the crowd for wanting their hit single.

Fischerspooner knows the secrets of the reborn: All that matters in the Teen Age, the age of borrowing, sampling, mixing and jetfuel tigers having sex on stage with blackmidnight roller queens is that it sounds good, looks good, and feels good too.