MUSIC: Punk Rock Bowling devours downtown

“We are the true believers,” Bouncing Souls frontman Greg Attonito sang, and the crowd before him seemed the part, T-shirts checkered with profanities, hair spiked in colors worthy of peacock plumage, many of them double fisting brews.

And, yeah, there was a dude in a kilt.

It was a windy Sunday night, the second day of the Punk Rock Bowling concert festivities, which took over a full square block downtown at Fremont and Sixth streets.

The vibe of the evening, and that of the weekend in general, was that of a drunken family reunion, a big bear hug to punk rock of all stripes.

On the day in question, the genre’s most melodic strains predominated.

In addition to the, well, bouncy Bouncing Souls, there was the covers-crazy Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, a supergroup of sorts consisting of members of punk luminaries like NOFX, Lagwagon, Swingin’ Utters and more.

Clad in garish powder blue suits, they made the equally garish Styx stomachable with a fast and not-so-furious take on “Sailing Away,” and, perhaps for the first time ever, got folks to crowd surf to The Eagles’ “Desperado.”

“Normally, we’re the best band at a show, but The Descendents are playing,” bassist Fat Mike boasted, foreshadowing the next band up.

The aforementioned pop punk granddaddies then took the stage, alternating 30-second snot rockets with hooky, heart-on-the-sleeve, near-hits.

They looked like their tunes sounded, all nervous, twitchy, overcaffeinated, nerdy energy, with guitarist Bill Stevenson twisting his mug into rubbery contortions as if his features were made of silly putty.

In stark contrast to the self-aware cheekiness that characterized much of Sunday’s lineup, on Saturday, the first night of the festival, earnestness carried the day with headliners the Dropkick Murphys.

The band’s blue collar Celtic punk is largely posited on working class concerns — and the occasional bar fight — and on tunes like the pro-union “Take ’Em Down,” they referenced the current labor strife in states like Wisconsin.

Mandolins and mosh pits ruled the night as the Murphys, all fist pumpin’ kinetic energy, turned in a visceral, triumphant set heavy on throaty sing-alongs like “The Gang’s All Here,” “Fighting ’69” and “Barroom Hero.”

This same kind of intensity reigned on Monday, where the hardest batch of bands played. There was the eternally debauched Dwarves, who seemed out to ensure that Sin City lived up to its name for the weekend.

“My voice is fried from doing cocaine,” frontman Blag Dahlia croaked early on during the band’s by turns scalding and oversexed set. “Pretend I sound good.”

The Dwarves, like vampires and regrettable one-night stands, aren’t really meant to be seen in the daylight, but still, they brought it hard, mixing a battery of nasty nuggets (“Detention Girl,” Dominator,” “Smack City”) in with newer tunes like “Stop Me” and “The Dwarves Are Still the Best Band Ever.”
  
The group played something like 400 songs and few would have argued had they stayed to play 400 more, but instead, their time onstage ended with smashed drums and a fittingly roughshod “Unrepentant.”

Next, Leftover Crack’s raw-lunged, anarchist rebel yells came on like cannon fire at close range. With his pained snarl, frontman Stza Crack sounded kind of like a rat chewing off its own tail.

He ended the band’s set by spraying red paint all over the giant inflatable Miller Lite beer and Jameson whiskey bottles that bookended the stage, decrying corporate sponsorships, which seemed like a pretty hallow act considering that said companies helped get his band paid for the weekend.

More feral, New York City hardcore pioneers Agnostic Front, a late addition after Brit post-punk greats Killing Joke had to drop off the lineup, practically put the crowd in a group chokehold with a tense, unrelenting performance.

Frontman Roger Miret looked and sounded like a vein about to burst as the band began their set by playing their crucial 1984 debut, “Victim in Pain,” in its 15-minute entirety.

With its metallic, clenched-fist anthems, that album is a staple of the genre, and so are these dudes, nearly three decades later, bounding about the stage with the barely controlled menace of some inmates on a jailbreak.

Brit street punks Cock Sparrer closed the festivities with brews hoisted high in the air.

These Oi! forebears, who’ve been at it for close to 40 years now, came on like a group of pissed off grandpas, all Rogaine and rage as they tore through classics “Working,” “Watch Your Back” and “Riot Squad.”

“I’m pinching myself, Vegas,” frontman Colin McFaull gushed, just happy to be here.

Judging by all boozy grins mimicking his, he was hardly alone in that sentiment.