If being visually poked and prodded like this year's prize steer was at all disconcerting for the Tennessee quartet, it hardly showed. Caleb Followill contorted and squawked like the southern-revival survivor that he is, and he did it quite remarkably. No secular singer sounds like him.

Almost equally unique was the lead-guitar work of cousin Matthew, the most distinct instrumentalist of the four blood-related Followills who make up Kings of Leon. He plays a very jagged brand of southern blues that's sort of Slash mixed with Jon Spencer. Visually, Kings of Leon unaffectedly conveys the skinny, white, reprobate vibe in a manner that's intriguing and unintimidating, for all its inebriated connotations.

More delicately arranged than its rip-snorting surface allows, "The Bucket" is one of this group's best jams. Its clanging opening chord progression got noggins nodding in earnest this night, as did the fine "Molly's Chambers." These two singles--from the only Kings of Leon album, 2003's "Youth and Young Manhood"-- were more melodic than most of the group's other material. Regardless, no two tunes sounded alike. A banging rhythm section pulled the snarling music into form.

Midway through the 90-minute set, the band, whose follow-up album hits stores Feb. 22, shook loose all potential naysayers. Kings of Leon rose to the level of critic-proof performer. "This is Los Angeles," said an apparently stunned Caleb Followill. "I realize you don't have to act like this. So, thank you."