The question on most people’s minds when pondering Clinic: “Are they still sporting those surgical masks?” The answer is predictably: “Yes. Yes, they are.” After a decade of performing and the recent release of fourth album Visitations, the four chaps from Liverpool still seem to have an affinity for the medical profession. However, on their current North American tour, they’ve added top hats to the mix, turning them into quite classy gents. The band recently performed for a sold-out crowd at the neon-lit Johnny Brenda’s, where it delivered just the right dosage of menacing, make-you-move music along with its signature brand of masked mystique.

Clinic made its way on stage to the schizophrenic whisperings of the bone-chilling “Interlude” from Visitations playing over the sound system. The band members assumed their positions, stone-faced amid a billowing curtain backdrop, and proceeded into the enigmatic opener. A heavy, dismal guitar riff backed by a stiff, martial drumbeat made “Dissolution: The Dream Of Bartholomew” sound like an executioner’s song, while lead singer/keyboardist Ade Blackburn seemed to be conjuring spirits as he spoke into the microphone with an echo-affected voice. Although slightly perplexed by the b-side from U.K. single “If You Could Read Your Mind,” the crowd had no problem getting on board as the band finished the first number and smoothly transitioned into more familiar territory.

Before playing raucous punk ditty “Tusk,” Blackburn, surprisingly short in stature, shuffled to center stage and removed his top hat while strapping on his guitar. When uniformed with his instrument, he gently placed the accessory back on his head, spoke the song title into the microphone and immediately began strumming spastically. The audience appreciated the high-energy tune, and hip sophisticates turned into sweathogs as they wildly flailed and thrashed into one another. In contrast, the band remained robotically expressionless as they continued into the hard and heavy techno beat of “The New Seeker.” The only unrestrained action was bassist Brian Campbell’s uncontrollable Night At The Roxbury head tick.

After the sexy sway of “Paradise,” during which Blackburn’s melodica and the ceiling-hung disco ball aroused a peculiar prom-like atmosphere, the band played a mix of old and new favorites, including songs from its first album, 2001’s Internal Wrangler. “The Return Of Evil Bill” and “The Second Line” had longtime fans haughtily singing along, while newer Clinic converts contented themselves with mild bouncing. However, the entire crowd was able to join Blackburn’s determined shouting on “Walking With Thee,” screaming the one-word chorus “No!” with fists raised. Guitarist Hartley switched over to pound on the keyboard, giving the song its haunted beach-party vibe.

Although the older pieces were certainly an appetizing treat, the evening’s highlights came primarily from the band’s mouth-watering new material. The chant-like drone of “Animal/Human” transcended into ethereal harmonic elation and gave drummer Carl Turney the chance to click his sticks against an iron bell, while the declaratory, primitive nature of “Children Of Kellog” had fans hypnotically jumping to jungle beats. The ominous rock-opera style of “If You Could Read Your Mind” was probably the most intriguing feature of the night, with its harrowing, high-pitched vocals and trance-like stomp.

When the band ended its set and floated off stage with a brief “Thank you and good night,” the sweat-soaked audience joined together for the typical encore call. The whooping whistles and continuous clapping paid off, as Clinic mounted the meager-sized stage for a two-song encore that included fast-paced favorite “Pet Eunuch,” from 2002’s Grammy-nominated Walking With Thee. Even the mild-mannered balcony dwellers couldn’t help but bob along.

With its costumes and top hats, Clinic may seem like a get your-gimmick-here kind of band. But judging by the copycat, mask-wearing individuals who came out to see them, Clinic’s performance proved to be just what the doctor ordered.

—Deidre Wengen