I remember a VH1 special back in the day where a man named Eric Weisbard said “First time you hear the Ramones you think this is silly. Second time you hear them you think this is awfully catchy. By the fifteenth time you hear the same song you think I could worship this.” Cut to 40 years later and, while there are a lot of bands trying to bring back some of that original Ramones sound to punk, Mean Jeans has established themselves as the Ramonesiest Ramones-core band around, yet with their own unique take on the forefathers’ sound. In typical Ramones style, I think Weisbard’s quote above can apply as much to Mean Jeans as it does to the Ramones themselves, and certainly describes my own relationship with the band's material. And this concert marked the night when I reached the worship stage.

As for the opening bands, for the most part, it felt like the festival organizers decided to put anyone who sounded remotely like the Ramones would be opening bands for Mean Jeans, and I can’t say that I particularly disagree with that logic. There was one exception to this, the oddly chosen Cadaver Dog who, after Poison Rites finished their set, began setting up their equipment on the floor. Whenever I see a band setting up their equipment on the floor instead of the stage, I know two things are about to happen: 1. I’m going to hear some noise rock, and 2. The lead singer is going to launch himself directly at someone in the crowd. That last sentence is actually something I wrote out on my cell phone before Cadaver Dog finished setting up, and I was not wrong on either account, although the lead singer only launched himself at people once or twice, and spent most of his set ducking and weaving from moshers to maintain his pretty boy look. The final opener,, Bummer’s Eve, besides their great name, didn’t make me feel anything strongly positive or negative towards them, but they did have a modest-sized yet fiercely loyal crowd who was specifically there for them, and they became the first opening band I’ve ever seen get goaded into performing an encore, so I guess some people really like Bummer’s Eve.

As the Mean Jeans started to set up, I started to realize something that surprised me: Mean Jeans guitarist and co-vocalist, Billy Jeans, is a surprisingly intense guy for someone in a self-described absurdist party-punk band. He always seemed very laser-focused on his task, and introduced every song of the night in a voice that’s somewhere between hardcore and metal screaming. This was especially funny since, as I’m sure you know, Mean Jeans song titles sound neither hardcore nor metal. The band opened with “I Was Born on a Saturday Night” and gave it 110% of the energy it has on the album, making for a furiously fun opener.

As the set continued on, this passion never disappeared, but there was something becoming more and more apparent: for a band who just put out a new album five months ago—their debut album for Fat Wreck Chords, one of the biggest punk labels in business today, no less-- they were playing virtually nothing off of their new album. I was pretty disappointed by this, as I think their new album, Tight New Dimensions, is their best work to date. The only time I’d seen any band play this little new material was the last time I saw Jane’s Addiction back in 2012, and that’s only because the band is sadly aware that absolutely nobody is showing up to their shows to hear them play anything less than 20 years old anymore. When I was buying a t-shirt after the show from Mean Jeans’ bassist, Jeans Wilder, who manned his own merch booth, I asked why they played so little off of their new album. He replied “Because we’re shitfaced!”

I couldn’t help but laugh at Wilder’s response to my question, but after I thought about it, I couldn’t help but be impressed. If that was them playing drunk, then damn, these guys are some really talented musicians. Besides their own music, they were constantly riffing and fooling around by playing popular alternative rock songs from the 1990’s at random, and playing each and every one of them surprisingly well. My favorite moment came when drummer and co-vocalist Junior Jeans, the one member who was visibly “shitfaced” during the show, slumped himself over his drum kit, and laid down with his back on the floor and his legs propped up on a drum. Billy Jeans launched into the guitar intro from “Under the Bridge” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Despite being in a lying down position, Junior Jeans managed to hit the cymbals for the song in the appropriate places through a combination of using his feet and simply throwing the drumsticks at the cymbals.

And that’s where I reached the stage of “I could worship this.” Because, while the Ramones were pioneers, their simplistic sound was most likely the best they were capable of with their level of musical ability at the time. Mean Jeans, however, show an amazing skill and musicianship, not to mention an extensive knowledge of the history of rock music, even while drunk off their skinny white asses. Some bands really should make it a rule to never play drunk because it absolutely ruins their performance (I’m looking at you, Get Up Kids) but Mean Jeans can definitely get away with the drunkenness, the riffing, the joking around, all because they’re actually that good at what they do. And for all of their talk bragging about how dumb they all are, the members of Mean Jeans actually deliver most of their material with an intellectual dry, sarcastic tone that understands the importance of the music they’re emulating, but takes a significant step up from the absurdism of “Beat on the Brat” to the absurdism of something like “Trash Can.”

In the end, I’m going to forgive them for playing so little off their excellent new album (If I remember correctly, the final count was two songs off of Tight New Dimensions: “Nite Vision” and “Coozin’”) because the concert was such an electrifying experience. If you ever have a chance to see Mean Jeans live, I will always recommend it.