By Rory Brown

WHEN IT COMES to music icons, we tend to celebrate the people who go against the status quo: Elvis, Jimi, Marvin, Kurt, Run DMC. But what happens when musicians embrace the cultural context of their everyday lives, working the current system for all it's worth instead of trying to spark revolution or revolt?

Enter the Lovemakers.

Though the band was born only three years ago, the Oakland trio seems like a product of the Bay Area's late-'90s and early-2000s dot-com culture: They want power, money, and prestige, and they plan to get it by selling one hell of a product – themselves.

Like a mid-'90s Bay Area tech startup, vocalist-guitarist Scott Blonde, vocalist-bassist-violinist Lisa Light, and keyboardist Jason Proctor want to make it big. But unlike various Silicon Valley invaders, they don't want to reinvent the marketplace, and none them are looking to sell their shares and get out early. They just want everyone to know who the Lovemakers are.

"At the very least, we want to be selling out the Fillmore in a year," Blonde said. "But we're not Radiohead. We're not changing music. We're just good. This combination of people does something that doesn't completely suck. We want fame, and we want to take a lot of other local bands with us."

Harking back to the synth pop sound of the "greed is good" '80s and emerging from the post-dot-com-boom '90s, the Lovemakers are on their way, recently landing a deal with Interscope to distribute their upcoming album. They've hooked up with Tony Ciulla (Marilyn Manson's manager), have a single on iTunes and a spot in Live 105's rotation, and recently opened the main stage of the station's annual BFD festival. Local media have also fallen in love with the group, raving about a live act that oozes sexual energy.

And ooze it does: Onstage, stripping, make-out sessions, and pelvic thrusts are about as common as beads at Mardi Gras. The show is the advertisement – it's what has gotten people talking, and it has garnered the group's Myspace page more than 9,200 hits (they also have more than 1,300 Myspace friends).

"Instead of being influenced by Elliot Smith or Interpol, we have an act influenced more by ... Kiss," Blonde said before one of the group's shows at Cafe du Nord. "[Kiss] obviously go out of their way to entertain their fans."

The Lovemakers don't hide their faces behind makeup like the Detroit rockers, but there are still elements of theater to their show. "The more we play, the more we tap into different parts of ourselves," Light said. "Right now I've been feeling this weird hippie vibe onstage. These weird mental states take hold, and we have fun with them onstage."

Regardless of what they're feeling, putting on a good show is the first priority. Behind his keyboards and laptop, sporting a suit and tie, Proctor dances like an ocean buoy in a storm, bobbing up and down while swaying side to side. Blonde and Light never stop moving, circling each other, taking their shirts off, and sucking face as the crowd hoots and hollers.

But offstage, they're convinced they're just a group of nerds. "This band can definitely not rely on its coolness," Blonde said. "If we walked into a room of hipsters, they'd just laugh at us."

Yet while the synth-poppers may be a quirky bunch, crowds – hipsters included – are checking out the group's shows, and they aren't laughing. They're dancing.

Rock 'n' roles

The Lovemakers formed three years ago when Blonde and Light were kicked out of their group Applesaucer. "We didn't play our notes right," Light joked. Blonde and Proctor lived on the same street, Miles Avenue, in Oakland, and confess that they first met through a local role-playing group. According to Blonde, they "shared an eight-sided die."

In November 2004, the group came across drummer Josh Killbourne (who they found passed out in the piss trough of a local bar), and all four became good friends.

Blonde and Light used to be more than good friends – they were romantically involved – but they are ambiguous about their current relationship. Light only acknowledged, "We've been around the block – West Oakland blocks – a couple times." She also likes to listen to Fleetwood Mac.

But unlike the Police and Oasis, none of the Lovemakers bring their personal dirt onstage. In fact, live performances serve as therapy. "I'm never in a bad mood onstage," Light said. Blonde added, "If we had it our way, we'd be on tour right now, playing every night."

The closest the band has ever come to an onstage feud is when Blonde refused to make out with Light one night because she was sick. While Light still looks back at the show with a little edge in her voice, Blonde replied, "Dude, you had fucking strep throat."

It's a scream

The Lovemakers' show may scream sex, but they say the main focus of their music is love. Blonde acknowledged that writing songs about sex is a lot more fun, but Light quickly reminded him that's not what sparks their songwriting. "Pretty much all of our songs are love songs," she said. "They say, 'I love you, but I want you to get run over by a truck.' "

The album is full of "I love you, and I hate you" moments, and Blonde and Light deliver them convincingly; the lyrics may even hit close to home.

In the chorus of "Set Me Free," Light sings, "When you were my boyfriend, I gave you my heart, all my money that's for sure / Now that you have a girlfriend, I don't know if I, I can take it anymore." In the chorus of "Falling Apart," Blonde asks, "How come I don't love you, but you keep breaking my heart?"

While the synths are a key ingredient in the band's songs, they add another variable to a show that's not always easy to orchestrate. Relying on backing tracks and Proctor's computer for large portions of several songs, the group gives a collective sigh of relief when a show goes well. "But it's the shows where things are really chaotic that are often our best," Proctor said. "We just have these moments of 'Well, here it goes,' and we pull together." The group didn't quite pull it together at a recent show at Popscene, though, and had to cut a song short. "The crowd didn't even notice," Blonde said. "Later in the show I was like, 'Did you guys hear us fuck up earlier?' And I just laughed."

Blonde and the rest of the band manage to laugh about just about anything, and their collective sense of humor is responsible for their name. They took it from the Japanese porn title The Weird Lovemakers. "We were at this porn seminar, and [The Weird Lovemakers] had these extreme close-ups of people fucking," Blonde said. "Eventually the camera zoomed so far in, the screen was just this enormous blur."

The group members weren't laughing when putting together their major-label debut and second album, Times of Romance, which is scheduled for release Aug. 23. Working with several producers, including Clif Norrell (No Doubt, Weezer), the group struggled to put together songs that had several layers of vocals and effects.

"We were recording songs five seconds at a time," Blonde said. "We were crying, we were suicidal, and we were drunk." On second thought, the group acknowledged they weren't really suicidal, but tears and alcohol flowed during the frustrating recording sessions. In the end, the Lovemakers said they are proud of the new album and feel it captures their energy, but they believe their live show continues to be what they do best.

Still, crucial supporters like Live 105 music director Aaron Axelsen said their album and single are strong enough to introduce them to major markets outside California. "They've got three great things going for them: They have artistic merit, they've got a commercially viable act, and they've got street cred," he explained. "They're a hardworking band that gets out and plays a lot of shows. They started with house parties and warehouse parties.

"The next step for them is breaking beyond the Bay Area. There's been an incredible fan reaction here, and they're ready to invade the rest of the markets on the West Coast."

To a certain extent, the Lovemakers invasion is already under way, albeit in much smaller markets. "We've won over the town of Denton, Texas," Blonde said. "And Reno too. In Reno we show up, and there are kids in lawn chairs waiting for us – we're treated like rock stars."

The Lovemakers perform with Death of a Party and Drunk Horse Aug. 25, 8 p.m., Great American Music Hall, 859 O'Farrell, SF. $10-$12. (415) 885-0750.