Study a picture of Jesse Hughes, my fellow old-timers. The lead singer and funny man of Eagles of Death Metal reminds you of who?

To this loving son of the '70s, I see in him:

--first and foremost, one or two members of Foghat, the quaalude boogie band spin-off of England's venerable blues-jazz band, Savoy Brown. A little bit 'Lonesome Dave' Peverett and a whole lot of Tone Earl, drummer. Unreconstructed long-hairs who couldn't hide their musicianly machismo if they tried, while at the same time being, you know, being skinny, unaggressive musicians.

--Diamond Jim Dandy of Black Oak Arkansas, the first of the flamboyant talent-less southern American home-grown boogie bone-heads. More on that in a bit.

--'Diamond' David Lee Roth, the king of such entities, and the greatest of the ass-less chaps set. Without peer. And yet a true original.

In concert at the Newport May 28, the EODM with the third great 'Diamond,' namely Hughes, put on a show of insouciant '70s-esque cock-rock the likes of which makes you realize the cliche 'everything old is new again' is an evergreen phrase of eternal usefulness.

Hughes, in suspenders, big-ass mustache and much bow-legged chicken-dancing, almost has no peers when it comes to performers with the guts and chutzpah of a Christmas turkey. A very passably gruff vocalist, the guy has megatons of personality and no small amount of attention-demanding charisma, best served to crowds grades second through and including the post-collegiate tuition-raped generation.

It's heartening to see the post-MTV, smart-phone kids appreciating this sort of hard rock mixture of nonsense and genuine good time party animal music. Lord knows the chord progressions weren't too complicated as the guitarists power-chorded their way to Zeppish nirvana with just the right amount of lovingly vicious shredding.

But it was the drummer who put the 'sex' in the Eagles with a groove that had Hughes's armadillo begging for action.

One stripper-loving beat after another followed, song-per-song. It was wonderful moving one's long-neglected loins'n'hips to this tumescent tenderloin rock'n'roll. Talk about a genre gone underwater for the count. The Eagles have resuscitated sex and good time rock just in time for the world to save itself from an all-consuming seriousness.

Another main draw point for the Eagles is Hughes and his love of love. He told the main lead guitarist he loved him--many times. He told the audience every third song. He told the other guitarist he loved him. He told the crowd he really loved them. It didn't get old.

And then of course he talked about the terrorist slaughter in Paris, briefly. It was just right. I mean, how does a band get over that? They don't. That they returned to performing is THE major victory.

Sigh. I loved the Eagles of Death Metal. My body loved the Eagles of Death Metal. And we all loved Jesse Hughes, who has more Jim Dandy in him than Jim Dandy and David Lee combined. You owe it to yourself to partake next time they're in town. Nothin' wrong with love, baby.