It's not the Twin Cities' most revered record label of all time (that would be Twin/Tone) nor its most commercially successful (probably now Rhymesayers), but Amphetamine Reptile remains one of our music scene's most unique, cultish and playful imprints. All those qualities – especially the playful part -- were on full display Saturday at the daylong AmRep 25th anniversary bash in the parking lot behind Grumpy's Downtown, the bar that label founder Tom Hazelmyer opened as he wound down AmRep's operations (but never completely gave it up). Some of the noisiest acts from the noise-pushing record company's late-'80s/early-'90s heyday came to town for the sold-out event, including Grumpy's regulars the Melvins. True to everything quirky about the Seattle trio and AmRep, the Seattle trio actually went on first right at 1 p.m. despite being the day's best-known band. Those fans who were in the loop and got there in time had quite a long day, especially the many 40-somethings who were hoping to relive their wilder punk-rock days. One guy confided to me he went home for a nap mid-day. Many more were noticeably wasted by the early evening, thinks in part to the plethora of (strong) Surly on tap. I met or overheard people who said they came to the event from as far away as Oregon, Illinois and Texas (the latter wasn't Lori Barbero, either, although she also was back in town for it). It was actually fitting for the Melvins – a band that still regularly tours and records – to eschew the spotlight for the rarer sets by bands such as: the Thrown Ups, featuring future Mudhoney makers Mark Arm (on drums here) and Steve Turner, who apparently hit the Grumpy's kitchen supply closet before taking the stage and made ample use of Saran-Wrap and whipped cream; Minneapolis-via-Fargo power trio Hammerhead, who were laughingly introduced as "Hammerland" but seriously still packed a mighty wallop, with a surprising number of fans shouting along to their songs; and Boss Hog, who finished off the concert with a rowdy hourlong set highlighted by Jon Spencer's grinding, blues-exploding guitarwork and Cristina Martinez's equally unmistakable vocals, part riot-grrrl and part M.I.A.-like rapper. Another fun reunion set was played by Michigan-reared religiosity rockers the God Bullies, who delivered "Let's Go to Hell" with a cheaply made upside-down cross. Singer Mike Hard then mocked Hazelmyer for being a "Kraut" and for running the show like the Gestapo: "Just like the Nazis, everybody has to be on time." At the end of the night, Hazelmyer was handed the "employee achievement award," with the accompanying prize of an Obama Chia Head. Good thing the party itself was so rewarding.