Black leather jackets, shades, and blistering riffs go a long way, as any Guitar Wolf fan knows all too well. The heartfelt locals of Space Cretins boast all three in spades, as well as a directive to play “big dumb rock” without over-thinking things. There’s no danger of that in the band’s curt, strapping anthems, which lift goofy themes from science fiction, comic books, and glam rock but don’t disguise a lust for the one-note thrill of the Ramones or classic KISS. In the ludicrous world of Space Cretins, a song called “Guantanamo Bay” is simply a vehicle for the rough-riding chorus “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, baby.” Having risen from the ashes of frontman Paul “Ace Diamond” Blow’s glam-damaged Ace Diamond Bimbos, this is a quartet of grizzled rock survivors that should go on surviving for years to come. With Indecisive Rhythm, Baby Gramps. DOUG WALLEN

Sat., Dec. 26, 9 p.m., 2009