The concept of cliché is so rife with meta-irony that it makes poster children such as the Them seem downright erudite in their application of hackneyed punk rock swagger— aside from the fact that they mean every word of it, of course. There’s no posturing to be found, here, only (as the band puts it) “four maniacs making music.” As for the music, it’s a high octane blend of punk and its trailer park cousins. Lead singer Joseph Christ is the sonic embodiment of straight whiskey and filterless cigarettes, a guttural, throat scraping rumble to wake the dead and kill the living. The rhythm section keeps things tight and propulsive, with surprisingly nimble bass-lines underscoring the rocksteady drumming and straight-ahead guitar onslaught. The Them’s lyrics are just what you’d expect from a band “coagulated from a puddle of vomit, beer and semen.” Sex, death, and getting fucked up, alone or in various alloys, gild the wilted lily. Live, the pulse and swagger coalesce into a firestorm of hedonistic punk-rock mayhem. For those in the front row, you will get wet. And you might get set on fire. With Bastard Child.

Tue., May 26, 9:30 p.m., 2009