MANSFIELD, Mass. — Last night’s Motley Crue concert at the Comcast Center started off with a backlit backdrop on which was projected shadow play of a scantily clad female angel and a male devil who, um, apparently quite enjoyed his work.

I can’t tell you what happened next. But it set the tone for the night. The veteran L.A. metal band occasionally dipped into songs from their early days, but mostly they stayed in their familiar role as happy narrators and celebrators of the depravity of white Los Angeles.

And they did it pretty well. Pop-directed stuff such as “Girls Girls Girls,” “Same Old Situation” and “Don’t Go Away Mad (Just Go Away)” sat comfortably amidst harder-edged songs such as “Shout at the Devil” and “Looks That Kill.” New songs from this year’s Saints of Los Angeles album, “MF of the Year” and the title track (which last night included cameos from the front men of the other groups on the five-band Crue Fest bill, all from L.A.), sat comfortably with songs from 1983.

The band itself was in good form, with singer Vince Neil’s helium squeal in evidence throughout, particularly on “Shout at the Devil” and the end of “Live Wire.”

It’s hard to call a show with so much in the way of lights, staging (the stage set made it appear that the band performed in front of a broken “Hollywood”-style sign reading “Los Angeles”), fire and explosions scaled back, but compared with the Carnival of Souls Tour with its acrobats, fire-eaters and midgets, the focus was on the band. Guitarist Mick Mars, who is fighting ankylosing spondylitis, needed frequent breaks from the stage, but spontaneous patter from Neil, drummer Tommy Lee and bassist Nikki Sixx, even when it was comically meaningless, kept the flow going.

As for Lee, yes, the (expletive) Cam routine, in which he took shots of flashing women in the crowd, was in evidence; no extended, inverted, levitating drum solo, though.

Still, the music was the thing. Other than the new songs and maybe “Primal Scream,” you or I could have written the set lists, but surprises weren’t the point. The Crue showed no signs of letting go of the top of the L.A. pop-metal scene they basically invented. The show was advertised as “the loudest show of the summer.” It was the loudest of my summer, anyway.

The five-band Crue Fest began in the afternoon. Buckcherry preceded Motley Crue and started off strong, with a couple of muscular, fast riff-rockers that oozed decadence, with sinewy front man Joshua Todd leading the way. “I Love the Cocaine” and “Lit Up” were highlights (of the songs with printable titles, anyway) of the beginning, where they staked their claim to being the kings of post-Guns N Roses L.A. sleaze-rock.

Unfortunately, they had to go and prove they had hearts of gold underneath, with the midtempo radio-hit attempt “Everything” and the power ballad “Sorry.” They finished with a marathon “Crazy Bitch” that alternated between wah-wah funk and heavy guitar explosions, and left plenty of room for Todd’s R-rated and occasionally X-rated perorations on life and love.

While Papa Roach weren’t as sick and wild as lead singer Jacoby Shaddix insisted they were, they did show a brawny melodic sense that helped their guitar-heavy songs to hit and stick, particularly the anthems “Getting Away With Murder” and “Scars.” “…to be Loved” was a four-on-the-floor rocker that recalled a grittier Pantera, and the new song “I Almost Told You I Loved You” was suitably snarly. They ended with several older songs that carried their former rap/nu-metal influence, including “Between Angels and Insects” and “Broken Home,” which was affectingly direct in its depiction of divorce.

rmassimo@projo.com