Throughout much of the ’80s, Echo and the Bunnymen’s classic lineup, rounded out by bassist Les Pattinson and drummer Pete de Freitas, was responsible for some of the grandest post-punk ever recorded. The four musicians combined the mystery of The Doors with the willful experimentation of The Velvet Underground and Television. They also had style for miles — a swaggering, photogenic and perfectly quaffed something special that made live shows truly memorable.

Somewhere toward the end of the decade, however, the Bunnymen lost the plot: the band’s fifth album, 1987’s “Echo & the Bunnymen,” was the sound of a once enigmatic group playing it safe; 1988 found McCulloch jumping ship to pursue a solo career; de Freitas died in a motorcycle accident in ’89; 1990’s “Reverberation” featured another vocalist — blasphemy in the eyes of longtime fans. 

Since reviving the band in 1997, McCulloch and Sergeant have spearheaded four solid Bunnymen albums (the first, “Evergreen,” featured Pattinson) and toured the globe. Their efforts have been admirable, even if past glories — namely an amazing four album run (“Crocodiles,” “Heaven Up Here,” “Porcupine” and “Ocean Rain”) from 1980-84 — remain out of reach.

The pair was in good form at Metro. Sergeant coaxed out slithering guitar lines, shading songs like “Going Up,” “Bring on the Dancing Horses,” and cuts from the recently released “Siberia” (“Stormy Weather,” “In the Margins,” “Scissors in the Sand”) with swirls of aural color. McCulloch, preening and boozy with a constant halo of cigarette smoke orbiting his signature nest of hair, sang with the faux-sophistication of a ’50s crooner, often segueing into other peoples hits (something that he is notorious for, and always has been), including those of The Doors, T-Rex, Lou Reed and, appropriately, Frank Sinatra. For all his shtick, he sounded beautiful on an encore-opening “Nothing Lasts Forever.”

The three to four sidemen (a second guitarist, a drummer and an occasional keyboardist) proved themselves capable musicians, especially on a muscular version of “The Cutter,” an anthemic rendering of “Back of Love” and a menacing take on “Villiers Terrace” (although the much-loved “Killing Moon” was unforgivably mangled). Though despite their best efforts, Pattinson and de Freitas — the classic years rhythm section — were sorely missed. The new guys played like (and looked like) any number of indie bands currently jockeying for a NME cover. 

You can’t blame McCulloch and Sergeant for soldering on with new recruits, just don’t expect them to capture the same magic that made Echo & the Bunnymen one of the greatest bands of the post-punk era.

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