POP MUSIC REVIEW : Never Saying Never Again to Romeo Void : With a good back catalogue and some solid new material, the early ‘80s band’s comeback is punctuated by an expertly played, personality-filled set at the Coach House.

SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO —  The trend toward disinterring the careers of early ‘80s new wave rockers isn’t an entirely bad idea, after all.

Adam Ant played the Coach House earlier this year, looking marvelous, but giving no particular reason why his musical existence should continue. Duran Duran is back in the money, a slick beast slouching toward Irvine for a concert at the Meadows on Aug. 18.

But now, out of the void comes Romeo Void. The revivified San Francisco band’s expertly played, personality-filled set Saturday night at the Coach House was a reminder that, even where the early ‘80s are concerned, one should never say never.

Singer Debora Iyall brimmed with enthusiasm and a diva’s flair for the dramatic as she registered both a pleasure in performing and a knack for bringing alive the sometimes baleful, sometimes aspiring, but always oversized emotions in Romeo Void’s songs.

This is nearly the same band that broke up in 1985 after having made a good impression with its two hits, “Never Say Never” and “A Girl in Trouble (Is a Temporary Thing).” In a set that included 10 oldies and five new songs, Romeo Void didn’t depart much from its original style: a lean, danceable rock sound that drew upon the New York City new wave music of Talking Heads and the Patti Smith Group, while adding as its own defining element a humid, sultry saxophone.

Klaudia Promessi, the only new member, played masterful sax and was a smiling presence, although a more kinetic stage demeanor would help. Peter Woods’ scraping, gurgling guitar riffs and Frank Zincavage’s deliciously punchy bass lines gave the band a spare, sinewy foundation, and ace drummer Aaron Smith ensured that Romeo Void remained highly danceable, although no dancing took place at the sit-down Coach House until Iyall commanded the fans in a half-filled house to their feet.

Connie Champagne, a San Francisco singer who has a career of her own, sat in--or rather shimmied in--as guest backup singer. The tiny, platinum-dyed woman was full of bouncy go-go dancer moves, and proved a good vocal match and visual complement to the massive, frizzy-haired Iyall.

Iyall doesn’t have an operatic voice, or even a conventionally strong pop voice, to match her diva-sized presence. But she has the knack of deeply feeling her lyrics, which probe the pain of rejection and unfulfilled desire, or long with hopeful ardor for connection and liberation. She conveyed these feelings with a naturally dramatic array of gestures: stretching out her arms, clasping her hands behind her back or to her bosom, tugging at the skirts of a long dress brightly splashed with color, or whirling to dance in front of the drum riser.

The band did a good job of balancing the film noir dread and isolation of its darker songs with material conveying a sense of uplift.

On “I Mean It,” Promessi’s broad, cinematic blowing set a lost-in-the-big-cold-city mood, while Iyall played the part of a woman struck mad with loneliness after a romantic rejection: “The liquor cabinet is empty of all feelings for you, and the streets are slick with my remorse for you.”

“Letting Go,” one of the new songs, found Iyall shaking off the chill and evoking the lustrous swoon of a sexual joining. The saxophone registered with hothouse humidity, but the song elevated lust to high romance with a spiritual cast. To illustrate this song about finding freedom in an embrace, Iyall turned in circles with her right arm raised, as if the Statue of Liberty had come off its pedestal to dance.

Of the hits, “A Girl in Trouble” sounded a bit creaky and pallid and could have used a more dense arrangement. But “Never Say Never” cooked obsessively and hit a peak with the two singers howling and the sax whinnying crazily. A nice encore consisted of two valedictory anthems, “One Thousand Shadows” and “Instincts.”

The first combined sadness and aspiration in its tale of a woman bailing out of a limiting relationship in pursuit of bigger dreams. In the second, Iyall lets down her guard and puts her trust in a lover. As she did throughout the show, Iyall showed in those concluding songs the ability to touch on more than one emotion at a time, an ability that separates the interesting rock singers from the run of the mill.

With expert musicianship, an inviting sound, a good back catalogue, and some solid new material, Romeo Void is one early-’80s band whose comeback is worth a “why not?” instead of a “never.”