NEW ORLEANS--When the Cult took the stage at the packed House of Blues on Thursday night (12/6), local hero Trent Reznor (of Nine Inch Nails) was in the audience. And rightfully so.

Cult leader Ian Astbury introduced the band's 1985 hit "She Sells Sanctuary" by saying, "There would be no 'new rock' without this song." There may still have been new rock without the Cult, but rock today is all the darker and more musical because of the seven studio albums the band has released since 1984. Bands such as Reznor's--not to mention Incubus, Alien Ant Farm and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club--owe much of their goth tinge and pop drama to Astbury's shaman flair.

After a seven-year absence, the Cult released "Beyond Good and Evil" (Atlantic) to deservingly solid reviews this year. Several of its songs, notably "Rise" and "War (The Process)," nestled themselves on FM "new rock" radio alongside songs by musicians who were barely in kindergarten when Astbury formed his previous band, Southern Death Cult, in 1981.

If only the Cult sounded half as good live on stage as it does in your car. Officially a trio, the band tours as a quintet, but can't muster the studio magic that must largely be credited to a sixth person, the producer of "Beyond Good and Evil," Bob Rock (Metallica, Bob Jovi).

"Rise," with which the show's initial hour-long set opened, wasn't nearly as anthemic as the studio version that the appreciative audience had memorized. At first, Astbury seemed frustrated with the small stage's confining dimensions (the band had been slated for a larger New Orleans hall earlier this year, but canceled), fiddling with his microphone stand and kicking the monitor speaker cabinet closer and closer to the audience.

Likewise, guitarist Billy Duffy experienced technical issues and spent much of the show gesticulating toward the sound technician; the problems may have been rectified, but he appeared to just give up. As a guitarist, Duffy can crunch with the best of them, but not a single guitar solo last night was notable, even though every song featured at least one. His best moments were when he played in tandem with Astbury's gargantuan voice, accenting the melody like an echo.

Ah, yes, that voice. When Astbury wants to, he can unhook his jaw like a creature from the "Alien" movies and utter a rock-and-roll roar that fits somewhere between Glenn Danzig and Freddie Mercury. His voice is dark and thick and voluminous. Studio albums, by nature, feature only the best takes, and as a result can set high expectations, but once Astbury got going, he didn't disappoint.

If only the band had been up to Astbury's calling. Songs performed from "Beyond Good and Evil," including "American Gothic," "True Believers," "Take the Power," "Ashes and Ghosts" and "War (The Process)," were largely note-perfect, if lacking the album's energy. Whining about goth-rock being bloodless may be as constructive as complaining about gospel being preachy, but there was definitely something missing. Early favorites like "Love Removal Machine" (from 1987's "Electric"), with which a three-song encore concluded, as well as "Rain" (from 1985's "Love") and "Sweet Soul Sister" (from 1989's "Sonic Temple"), fit well alongside their more recent kin, but the audience's enjoyment seemed to be pinned to familiarity. Well-known songs went over well, lesser-known ones less so--there were no revelations or moments of memorable spontaneity.

Cult songs largely follow the same mantra: hypnotic verses alternating with meaty choruses. Astbury is an extroverted Jim Morrison, an enchanter with muscle who wears black leather like a second skin. He directs the band like a conductor, signaling crescendos and tempo changes, and standing to the side when it's time for an instrumental solo. Stoic metal is a fine goal, but when it doesn't work, it sounds blunted and dull rather than philosophical.

The band's two adjunct players (a bassist and a second guitarist) were professional. The name of drummer Matt Sorum wouldn't be of note had he not done time with Guns N' Roses.

Behind the band throughout was a giant, stage-sized white sheet with a devil-red flower blossom. The picture is taken from the cover of the "Beyond Good and Evil" album. But as the concert proceeded, the painting became an unintentional metaphor for the performance: the more you paid attention to it, the more you realized how poorly it had been rendered.

Opening the show was a metal quartet with the name Like Hell. The band played a nudge-nudge brand of hard rock that brought to mind Weezer's distancing irony and Mudvayne's art-school geekiness. One song consisted almost entirely of the phrase "na na na." The lead singer wore white leather. The audience patiently awaited the Cult.