Aerosmith frontman Steven Tyler belts out a tune Saturday at the sold-out MGM Grand Garden arena.

Aerosmith has become rock 'n' roll comfort food, its appeal as tried and true as fried chicken and beer. Like a drunk slowly balling up his fist, you can see this band coming a mile away.

But familiarity ceases to breed contempt when it's squeezed into a pair of airtight, figure-forming pants, blowing kisses to your mom.

At least this seemed to be the case at Aerosmith's packed gig at the MGM Grand Garden arena Saturday. The band hit on the crowd hard, like a bunch of dudes fresh from jail and looking for some action.

Sure, they used the same old pick-up lines -- the aptly titled "Back in the Saddle" and a heavy-breathing "Sweet Emotion," which contained all the pent-up sexual energy of an achingly slow striptease.

The audience could do little more than bat its eyelashes and blush, happy to be the object of this band's affection, if only for a night.

And that's how Aerosmith continues to garner big crowds, by masking its occasional creakiness in a haze of pheromones. Aerosmith has been the most unabashedly libidinal band on rock radio for decades, the tunes Viagra for the airwaves.

On stage, it's much the same. Frontman Steven Tyler adjusted his crotch so many times, you'd think he was manning first base for the Padres.

Seriously, it's a wonder that his pelvis has never cost anyone an eye. It just keeps coming at you, his pneumatic hips forever thrust, thrust, thrusting.

Standing in front of the thing feels kind of dangerous, like confronting a pit bull with a big, juicy steak tied around your neck.

But the ladies squealed and squealed with delight as Tyler toyed with them, licking his fingers and touching their outstretched hands.

Older gals clasped their chests, while their daughters shouted catcalls far too randy to print here.

Lustiness aside, the show had more peaks and valleys than the Himalayas.

Tyler was always impressively strong of voice, but Aerosmith's rhythm section occasionally lagged behind.

The bass and the guitar too often congealed into a muddy, indistinguishable blur of sound that packed all the punch of a winded prizefighter.

None off this helped songs like the later-day hit "Livin' On the Edge" or the band's show-opening cover of the Beatles' "Helter Skelter," both of which felt stiff and slow-footed, like they'd been dipped in wet cement.

Still, Aerosmith continually resuscitated its show by hamming it up on two large L-shaped ramps that jutted into the crowd and by bringing out show opener Lenny Kravitz to join in a sweaty take on the Beatles' "Come Together."

"You ain't never gonna hear that nowhere but here," Tyler panted at song's end.

As the show wore on, Tyler and guitarist Joe Perry's clothes came off.

By night's end, the two had wielded their sex appeal like a couple of Louisville Sluggers, relying on their rippled stomachs to titillate when their songs failed to do so.

But those moments were rare, and the ladies weren't arguing.

Neither were the fellas, for that matter, many of whom seemed eager to capitalize on the heightened state of arousal that Aerosmith gigs are practically marinated in.

And that goes a long way in explaining this band's allure.

For as long as folks continue to pursue carnal knowledge, the quest for Aerosmith tickets won't be too far behind.

None of this has been lost on Kravitz, who kicked off the night with a similar mix of swaggering '70s rock riffs and hot-under-the-collar tunes.

But whereas Aerosmith's catalog is often brazenly hedonistic, Kravitz is much more of an idealist when it comes to matters of the bedroom.

He's a lovey-dovey dude, a post-modern hippie smothered in leather who still takes time to stop and smell the flower power.

As a result, Kravitz's songs can get a little maudlin, with lyrics that often seem cribbed from some dime store romance novel.

"Love is gentle as a rose," he sang on "Let Love Rule." "Love can conquer anything."

Obviously, this guy's never seen an episode of "Trading Spouses."

None of this really detracts too much from Kravitz's repertoire, though, considering that his Les Paul speaks louder than his words.

Kravitz's biggest accomplishment in recent years has been to keep the guitar from becoming extinct on pop radio.

In concert, his tunes take on even more heft, fleshed out by an eight-piece backing band highlighted by an ace trombonist.

Together, they knocked the stuffing out of hits like "Mama Said" and "Are You Gonna Go My Way."

Thankfully, Kravitz doesn't treat his tunes as tenderly as his lovers.