Some of Eric Bachman’s music is like a David Lynch film. There is a certain beauty to it, but the songs are overshadowed by an undeniable eeriness.

Think of the conflicted combination of the maniacal Frank Booth character, and the immaculate soundtrack by Angelo Badalamenti and Julee Cruise in Blue Velvet. If you’re lucky, that could help you experience a Crooked Fingers song without even hearing it.

How perfect, then, at the Rocket Bar on Thursday night, that the man dancing in front of the stage during the Crooked Fingers set was as rich as Frank Booth from Blue Velvet or Bob from Twin Peaks.

He was probably about 45 years old, clad in a wool suit with buttons all over the left breast, one reading “Super Dad.” His dancing reminded me of Cliff Huxtable’s from “The Cosby Show,” but on a lot of drugs. It fit the music perfectly.

Crooked Fingers is actually the result of Eric Bachman’s Archers of Loaf band-mate, Mark Price, breaking his hand. While waiting for Price to recover, Bachman had some extra songs lying around and took them out on tour, supporting Mr. Bob Mould.

Now that the Archers have fizzled and Barry Black, another of Bachman’s projects, is of occasional seasonal status, Crooked Fingers is the focus. The music parallels classic Loaf songs like “White Trash Heroes,” emphasizing Bachman’s raspy voice and fingerpicked, distorted guitar, and puts the listener in somewhat of a trance.

Unlike the first Crooked Fingers tours, with the likes of Superchunk and Guided By Voices, Bachman has now enlisted two musicians to handle cello, samples, banjo and keys.

Bachman still howls and plays his imperfect guitar on songs like “Broken Man” and “New Drink for the Old Drunk,” but the additional members rejuvenate them. The addition of the cello especially benefits “Juliette,” as evidenced by the schizophrenic waltz displayed by our dancing friend in the front. “She Spread Her Legs and Flew Away” is uncomfortably erotic and “Here Come the Snakes,” the so-called title track from the Fingers second album, Bring On the Snakes, adds muscle to the set with some dirty electric guitar. Prince’s “When You Were Mine” is played, prompting everyone in attendance to first slap their knees in unison, then admire the beauty in Bachman’s interpretation. Bob Dylan’s “She Belongs to Me” also made its way into the hour-long set, prompting the Rocket Bar regulars to at least look up from their beers.

Crooked Fingers closed the gig with a rousing, foot stomping version of “Red Devil Dawn” and kindly asked for someone to offer a place to crash. They reminded us of music like Tom Waits and Elliot Smith in that they make good, dense drinking music for anyone who will listen. Put simply, Crooked Fingers intrigued us enough to want to see them next time they are in town. But let’s just hope that Frank Booth didn’t put Crooked Fingers up that night, or there might not be a next time.