By Paul Robicheau

Jesus Lizard remains one of rock’s most fearsome combos, and this night the veteran band delivered one of 2024’s most memorable shows.

David Yow of the Jesus Lizard at Roadrunner. Photo: Paul Robicheau

After 20 songs and several crowd-surfing crawls atop fans at Roadrunner on Thursday, David Yow tackled an elephant in the room. “This just gets easier with age,” said the Jesus Lizard frontman, 64 — three decades beyond his alt-punk band’s early 1990s heyday. To prove it, as the graying group ripped into its second encore, Yow dropped to the stage to bang out a dozen push-ups.

Impressive perhaps for a guy who came across as slight and slovenly even in his prime. But by that point, the scene-stealing vocalist and his original bandmates — guitarist Duane Denison, bassist David Wm. Sims, and drummer Mac McNeilly — had already dashed any fears that they’d lost their edge or energy.

Duane Denison of the Jesus Lizard at Roadrunner. Photo: Paul Robicheau

The same goes for Rack, the Jesus Lizard’s first album in 26 years. Seven of its songs were interspersed through the band’s 90-minute Roadrunner set and fit next to classic material with no drop-off in quality or momentum. Rack tracks ranged from the whiplash chug of “Hide and Seek” (laced by Denison’s gnarly, spidery licks) and “Moto(R)” to moodily dynamic changeups “Armistice Day” and “What If?” Yow served his best Tom Waits impersonation from a highchair for that creepy number, rubbing his beard and wondering about a psychopath before he dissolved into more mumbling than on record.

That diversity went down more easily after the set’s opening plunge into ’90s warhorses that showcased Yow’s impish impudence. Always more of an unpredictable provocateur than skillful singer onstage, he began by walking to the mic, pointing to his jeans and chiming, “I peed myself a little bit.” Then, as the band lurched into “Seasick,” Yow immediately hopped into the pit and threw himself into front-row faces, bellowing “I can swim, I can’t swim!”

Waiting a few numbers for his first full swim out into the crowd, Yow climbed back onstage to keep antics rolling into “Gladiator” (where he snatched a cap off a security guard and snapped his mic cord like a whip), “Boilermaker” and “Here Comes Dudley,” floating his arms in a hula dance to Denison’s spectral guitar melody. Bassist Sims retained his stage-edge stance, his throb sharply punctuating that song from a small rear amp, underlined by McNeilly’s hard, spartan beat, the band’s equipment setup not too different from decades-old days at Boston’s small clubs.

David Wm. Sims of the Jesus Lizard at Roadrunner. Photo: Paul Robicheau

And before long, Yow was dragging his mic out in the crowd, clasping fans’ hands for support as he levitated across the floor on his belly, at times tumbling to an upright position — and despite the larger, half-full club, fans congealed to keep him aloft. Yow’s example only inspired other  crowd-surfers to gravitate toward the stage pit, where they were released by security for a return to the fray.

Yow prompted fans to keep clapping between songs, only to flash them the double-fisted finger before cuing the pulverizing riffs of “Puss,” where Yow barked “Get her out of the truck!” while lying on his back. He followed with a shoutout to Steve Albini, who died earlier this year and produced that track, which became a split-single with Nirvana, who Albini produced as well. And the roar continued with “Mouth Breather,” which ended with pummeling fills from McNeilly, who could have been an MVP for his propelling presence.

“This is the best song anybody ever wrote,” Yow proclaimed before “Monkey Trick” near set’s end. And while such self-serving hyperbole was mocking at best, that tune grabbed with Sims’ chunky bass line and Denison’s dramatic chordal swipes. Yow gave it his own gusto, lobbing one of his spit gobs in a long arc across the stage and closed the song with a series of howls — or should we call them Yowls?

Mac McNeilly of the Jesus Lizard at Roadrunner. Photo: Paul Robicheau

Despite variations on a theme, the trick grew a bit redundant by the time eight encore numbers rolled around, though the mighty riff machine and its scrappy frontman didn’t fall short in execution. Back since 2017 after two post-’90s breakups, the Jesus Lizard is more than a noise-rock band. It remains one of rock’s most fearsome live acts beyond Yow’s shenanigans, and this night still delivered one of 2024’s most memorable shows.

Arts Fuse interview with Duane Denison

Paul Robicheau served more than 20 years as contributing editor for music at the Improper Bostonian in addition to writing and photography for the Boston Globe, Rolling Stone, and many other publications. He was also the founding arts editor of Boston Metro.