"Do you love rock'n'roll?" Jesse Hughes asks a crowd that is already giddy on an unreconstructed good time. "Can I get an 'amen'?" The crowd roars. "This is rock'n'roll as it should be," says Hughes, and it is hard to argue. Eagles of Death Metal are the rock Village People; the band Primal Scream would love to have the cojones to be; the Cramps with a tan. Hughes was a teenage soccer buddy of Queens of the Stone Age's Josh Homme in Palm Desert, California; Eagles of Death Metal are really their teenage boys' bedroom fantasy, taking rock's most hedonistic impulses and turning everything up to 11. (Homme isn't touring with the band, though, which is a shame - it would have been fun to see him and Hughes together.)

Hughes's persona is part Little Richard, part Deliverance. With his tattoos, walrus moustache and checked shirt he is every inch the redneck, but he struts and pouts in nervy circles between songs, waving his hands and declaiming like a southern preacher. The rest of them look ridiculously perfect, too: the lantern-jawed drummer with an ice-white smile, the enormous (and enormously hirsute) bass player with hands like shovels, whose shirt is so drenched with sweat after the first few songs it looks like a second skin, and - best of all - a second guitarist of a certain age and girth with a thinning mohawk and outsize blue shades, playing a Flying V.

Eagles of Death Metal are a hysterically well-executed, brilliantly camp pastiche, but then this kind of rock is always a pastiche, whether it's the Stones pastiching the blues, or the Stones pastiching themselves. Songs are short, dumb and dirty, give or take the odd self-consciously masturbatory solo. They rhyme "rock'n'roller" with "cherry cola" and are utterly trashy but fantastic fun. I Like to Move in the Night is roughed up but Hughes's voice still has a trace of a florid falsetto to rival Scissor Sisters' Jake Shears. A romp through Stuck in the Middle With You ought to be covers-band hell, but is actually bar-band heaven. This is the kind of fun rock musicians used to have before they became fixated on their angst.

Hughes says he wants us to go home thinking, "I ain't never been rocked so hard by a moustache in all my life." Several nights have come close, but I really don't think I've ever been until now.

· At Koko, London (0870 1451115), tomorrow.