Rock has little room for humor — too much self-importance and too little self-awareness to acknowledge its ridiculousness. Thus bands like the Electric Six wind up consigned to the fringes, not that it matters to their dedicated followers. The band that conflated disco, Taco Bell and the gates of hell on 2003’s hit “Danger! High Voltage” doesn’t care much either. They’re from Detroit and fashioned from hardier stock. They’ve released six albums in as many years, while demonstrating parodic flair worthy of 30 Rock. Hooked on comic irreverence, singer Dick Valentine promises “American Cheese” (“but I know it’d be better with gouda or cheddar”), panders shamelessly/self-consciously on “Gay Bar Part Two” and wonders “why anyone likes Lenny Kravitz” on “Lenny Kravitz.” If over-the-top lyrically, they’re unfailingly earnest, tight and high-energy in performance. Don’t miss openers The Constellations, whose slinky, ’70s-inflected back-alley grooves drift into psychedelia with late-night swagger informed by Tom Waits.