E-Mail This Article to a Friend ADULT., not adult Getting past electroclash BY KURT B. REIGHLEY

The Detroit trio ADULT. didn’t just pick a difficult name, they chose a misleading one. Despite the uptight-looking moniker — all caps and that annoying full stop — Nicola Kuperus, Adam Lee Miller, and Sam Consiglio laugh practically as much as they talk in interviews. And their third full-length, Gimmie Trouble (Thrill Jockey), doesn’t sound especially grown-up. It’s not "adult" in the sense of waiting-room-friendly fare like James Taylor and Kenny G. ADULT. ply abrasive yet hook-laden electro-punk rife with staccato drum machines, white noise guitar, and synth drones. In the seven years since their debut, the EP Dispassionate Furniture (Ersatz Audio), Kuperus’s singing style has softened slightly, from a cold, fractured bark to more of a theatrical hiccup. But nobody’s going to mistake her for Norah Jones.

ADULT., who’ll be at the Middle East this Friday, also don’t meet the erotic criteria for "adult" entertainment. The stark, stiffly posed photos — designed and shot by Kuperus — that grace their CDs owe more to lab manuals and supply catalogues than to Helmut Lang fashion spreads. "Yesterday I was in Lenscrafters, and the saleswoman asked me what kind of glasses I was looking for," says Miller, who’s married to Kuperus. His answer: "I’m looking for something awkward or geeky."

Like their name, which they chose because pop music is youth-dominated, ADULT. can seem as contrary as kindergarteners. For 2003’s Anxiety Always, they drew on their favorite LPs, by Depeche Mode, the Faint, and Public Image Ltd., and aimed to deliver a classic full-length, right down to a running time that fit on one side of a C-90 cassette. With Gimmie Trouble, their first to feature Consiglio (who signed on to play guitar on live dates supporting their previous EP, D.U.M.E., and never left), the approach was less calculated. "We wrote all the songs as quick demos, which we’ve never done before, and then went back into the studio and recorded them all over a two-week period," Miller explains. Adds Consiglio, "The goal was to get a spontaneous feel by using a cross-section of rigid, unforgiving machines with very fallible human beings and make that [combination] feel as spontaneous as possible."

Gimmie Trouble echoes the early, primitive offerings of Devo and Cabaret Voltaire, not the shiny synth-pop of Reagan-era MTV or its short-lived 21st-century cousin, "electroclash." "Sam has made us be far less uptight," Kuperus points out, then adds, lapsing into language one might find on a report card, "He helped us learn to interact with others, and how to share." She says the expanded line-up has loosened up their live show as well. "Just having three people, there’s more energy on stage. So even if one person isn’t entirely into the show . . . "

" . . . the other two are making jokes and tripping over each other’s chords," Miller interjects. "Plus, as a girl said to us in Amsterdam, ‘Guitars are cool.’ " Which, he admits with a snort, is about as close to that overprized adjective as ADULT. may ever come.

But that’s a big part of the band’s appeal: embracing social awkwardness is a greater act of rebellion than, oh, the latest American Idol winner’s cutting a rock song. ADULT. act, to quote Barbra, more like children than children. Not to suggest that the band members are wholly devoid of real-world coping skills. Although Consiglio’s absentmindedness is a running joke, Kuperus finds organizational tasks, particularly bookkeeping, to be relaxing. "If music doesn’t work out, I could always make a great personal assistant." Planning ahead? That’s so adult.

ADULT. + GENDERS + SAN SERAC | Middle East upstairs, 470 Mass Ave, Cambridge | Oct 21 | 617.864.EAST.