As far as band names go, Bass Drum Of Death is in my top five. In recent years, acts such as Ty Segall, Wavves and King Tuff have spearheaded a gorgeous, fuzzy garage revival, leaving footprints in the ashes for other bands to follow.

Bass Drum of Death’s eponymous 2013 album was chockfull of tasty lo-fi licks. Every song had the same basic tone: howling six-strings. swampy bass lines and a snare drum that just wouldn’t quit.

Then came the 2014 release Rip This — the album that needed to happen, lest Bass Drum of Death be dragged into the cavernous hipster undertow and shit out like so many Coachella acts. Much of the static and crackle and fuzz that consumed the first album has been stripped away. What remains is a slicked-hair, sports-car, slut-rock extravaganza the likes of which have not been heard since Eagles of Death Metal. The group proves here that they can actually write songs, that they don’t need to hide behind walls of feedback to make a good record.

Saucy surf riffs suck the body in, get the blood pumping and, just when you’re ready to tie off and cauterize, the drums drop hard with a nasty roll and your brain says, “Here, boy, have some dopamine.” It’s the kind of music that comes with a grin, studded leather jackets and flip-flops combined. This is a group that gets you screaming “Hell yeah!” ’til the sun gets high. Hey, what did you expect? After all, they are from Mississippi, the Hospitality State. These cats know how to take care of business, and shit, they’ve got a band name to match.

Bass Drum of Death plays 9 pm Saturday, Jan. 31, at Cozmic; $13 adv., $11 early bird. All ages.