Marilyn Manson groupies be damned -- the Chapel Hill, N.C.-based Squirrel Nut Zippers have the creepiest devotees in music -- hands down. If the blonde waif in the red feather boa and sparkling flapper dress doing the neo-Charleston in the corner doesn't spook the hell out of you, then the spaced-out guy sporting spats and a zoot suit will surely have you eyeballing the nearest exit. Think Gatsby in Wonderland.

Cranking out a brassy blend of swampy Dixieland jazz and cocktail calypso, the Zippers are one of those rare bands that sound even better when the in-club temperature nears the tropical zone. Realizing the need for proper atmosphere, the seven-piece group, bathed in sepia stage lights, opened the show with three swinging fat-burners from its debut album, "The Inevitable": "Good Enough for Granddad," "Club Limbo," and "Lover's Lane."

Vocalist/trombonist James Mathus, who looks like Steve Buscemi topped with Burt Reynolds' hairpiece, and guitarist/vocalist Tom Maxwell, whose large frame and raging energy are an engaging match, scatted back and forth, snapped their fingers and danced up a storm. Mesmerized by the convincing time-warp, the crowd soon broke from its stupor and followed suit.

The band was at its throwback tightest on "Put a Lid on It" and "Hell," the latter set ablaze by a searing sax solo from Ken Mosher. But the highlights of the show came when lone female Zipper Katharine Whalen set aside her banjo and floated to the microphone. Much has already been said about Whalen's vocal similarities to Billie Holiday, but there were indeed moments when her powers of mimicry were breathtakingly eerie.

The show sometimes sagged to novelty gag levels, most notably when Mathus spewed hipster slang. But for the most part, the Squirrel Nut Zippers proved