The chants of “Party! Party!” are loud enough they must be audible from miles away. It is easy to imagine that Andrew WK’s own heartbeat pulses to their rhythm, so wedded does he seem to partying, and to the adulation of his fans. There’s more than a little of the cartoon character to WK, his arms like massive hams, his toothy beam visible from Venus. His band could easily have sprung from the Hanna-Barbera drawing board – a Slayer roadie, a mutton-chopped wrestler, a beefcake beach-bum, a riot-grrl fret-melter and so on – performing with such OTT charisma they’re like the kids from Fame if they had formed a metal band.
At their best – the neanderthal hedonism of I Get Wet, the hammering, catchy blitz of Party Til You Puke – WK’s adrenalised, over-driven rock party anthems are so “dumb” they’re brilliant. But while there’s a knowing ridiculousness to much of his set tonight, you’d be a fool to mistake it for anything as cynical as a joke. For one thing, he’s totally earnest in his role as party-starter, pumping his fists and delivering thumbs-ups and quickly sweating until his white T-shirt is chewing-gum grey, so full-on and energetic and natural an entertainer that Queen missed a trick not nabbing WK as their post-Freddie frontman.
But there’s also a depth beneath the giddy hedonism, especially on the tunes from recent album You’re Not Alone, his first set of new songs in 12 years. The lyrics are darker and concern subjects beyond partying and puking, the music more complex and ambitious, wild and dramatic, as if someone took Jim Steinman slam-dancing. The album includes passages from his secondary career as a motivational speaker, some of which he revisits tonight, drilling his fans to “stay strong and keep on going,” sounding like a well-therapised Iggy Pop.
Andrew WK clearly adores his followers, and the affection is mutual, with several stage-divers impersonating his uniform of white-tee-and-jeans (another is dressed, bafflingly, as Captain Birdseye). But you sense he needs these acolytes to stay aloft, that he imagines he might not exist if they weren’t here to bellow along to his titanic choruses. Indeed, his recent wilderness years, following a confusing legal dispute, perhaps explain this vulnerability, and the passion with which he delivers Music Is Worth Living For and the rueful Break the Curse.
Mostly, however, WK doesn’t dwell on the darkness, and given our current bleak epoch, his dedication to the cause of partying is a blessing.
“This song’s about taking all your fears and throwing them into the abyss!” he bellows before Tear It Up. Moments later he’s leading his throng through another rousing chorus of “We wanna get wasted!” And moments after that, You Will Remember Tonight achieves the platonic ideal of gleeful airhead rock before the song collapses into an orgy of arch rock’n’roll excess, a barrage of blast beats and three guitarists soloing wildly at once, as WK hammers his piano like a homicidal Liberace. Microphone stuffed down his jeans, he hollers: “Sweat’s just mother nature’s proof that you’re partying hard!” It’s hard to argue with him.
• At the Waterfront, Norwich, on 18 April. Box office: 01603 508050. Then touring until 21 April.
