Take one cheesy smoke machine, some beefy power chords, assorted gags, wigs and rubber items, and mix vigorously in boiling sweat. This is the stuff D.C.'s Meatmen are made of, and on Thursday night the 9:30 club was the caldron in which these ungodly ingredients blended into rich, messy, rock 'n' roll goo.
For a band that absolutely refuses to get serious about anything, the Meatmen sound pretty good. The genre is pure, unpolluted glam metal circa 1967-73, executed with tongues planted firmly in cheeks and amps turned up past the saturation point. Front man Tesco Vee is a kind of hybrid of David Lee Roth, Jerry Lewis and your perverted Uncle Al, and his tuneless baritone sounds something like the muffler dragging behind a 1967 Dodge Dart. Vee is right at home in the middle of ditties like "Pillar of Sodom," a lascivious ode to the charms of backstage nubiles.
The Meatmen were without their regular drummer, and things got a little sloppy as last-minute fill-in Ghoulie tried to pick up the slack, but all in all both he and the rest of the Meaty Ones got the dirty job done.
As they say, somebody's gotta do it.