Always more than well-equipped, the star of Russ Meyer's Faster Pussycat, Kill! Kill! has recently added some new ammunition to her stage persona. Some of this has come from evolutionary shifts of her own, and some from the recent association with the man Robert Plant and Jimmy Page chose not to recall for the Led Zeppelin reunion.

But with Galas at the microphone, why should John Paul Jones feel slighted? His industrial-strength bass and occasional steel guitar, Galas's unique vocal cords and a beefy drummer were sufficient to cause a scary-looking audience to shiver in their bondage outfits last Monday.

Only a few minutes after her entrance, Galas scaled a peak of intensity few vocalists could hope to achieve at the climax of a performance. No matter hew well you know the voice, when she screams, the chill run down your spine. This was a well-planned assault, however. As well as delivering a scorched-earth monologue on despair, Galas switched between the overwrought delivery of southern soul ballads and honky-tonk country, and an approach to the blues that teetered on the brink of a whirlpool of sound.

For the soul and country material she played Hammond organ with a sanctified touch. Paradoxically, this archaic flavor gave the music a sense of timelessness, as if Greek ritual laments, Mediterranean sorcery, Pentecostal speaking in tongues and good old American heartache were condensed into one potent package. Structured cleverly around the bare bones of Jones's bass riffs, the title song from the recent The Sporting Life album and "Do You Take This Man" proved that Diamanda may have become more accessible, but her basic stance in uncompromised.