Lately, The Black Lips have been known more for their stage antics than their music. They've pretty much done it all in front of an audience — spitting, vomiting, urinating, inter-band kissing. It's all fair game.

The Atlanta quartet even had to cancel their tour in India a few months back when they were hounded by police after some indecent exposure at a show.

But Sunday night at Turner Hall Ballroom, 1032 N. 4th St., The Black Lips made sure that they were all about their harmonizing psychedelic garage punk.

"I'm not peeing on anybody," bassist Jared Swilley said. "You can pee on your friends, though."

After Swilley said this about halfway through the set in response to a heckler, it felt like their was a big burden lifted off the Black Lips' backs. They weren't the class clowns anymore. They were the punk rock kids.

And boy did they rock (They said a patch of concrete fell from the roof of Turner Hall during their sound check). Their rambunctious set included selections from its latest album 200 Million Thousand and previous albums Good Bad Not Evil and Let It Bloom.

Swilley had a throaty, crackling voice joking that he just started going through puberty and, for some odd reason, he was always fighting with his mom. While it hindered some of their set, the band's raw, garage rock sound let his rough voice go unnoticed during songs.

The only peculiar part about the show was when guitarist Cole Alexander came out looking like Clint Eastwood on Thanksgiving. He was dressed in a "Man with No Name" poncho, a rough beard and a pilgrim hat.

They had — what seemed to be — a floral light design for a few songs, but the stage's black backdrop diminished all the colorful effect. Since the effect was coming form the switchboard behind the audience, the design was only noticeable on the backs of the audience. A few even got creative with the lighting and made shadow puppets, attempting to eat band members with their hand's shadows.

The audience seemed more willing to start a riot than the band. Cups were endlessly thrown at the band, so many that, by the end of the night, it seemed they were drenched more in water than in their own sweat. It was all in good fun, though. It was obvious that The Black Lips have had rougher nights.

Milwaukee's own Goodnight Loving opened the night — outshining the second band, Gentleman Jesse and His Men, who came off boring &mdash with its fast-paced, guitar driven, surf punk.