A lot of people start thinking about settling down in their late 20s or early 30s. Those people probably aren't in scathing punk bands.

Despite their ages, the four adult men of local hardcore heathens Brain Tumors remain as mischievous as detention regulars. "We're the Tony Clifton of hardcore," singer Drew Ailes professes, referencing the Andy Kaufman character while wearing a sleeveless jumpsuit with an aviator hat and a pair of goggles tucked over a short brown wig. "We will hand you a beer that we purchased, only to punch it out of your hand as you reach up to drink it."

A familiarity with Brain Tumors' waggish humor is imperative to understanding why these puerile punks have become the most entertaining live band in the Twin Cities' vibrant subterranean scene since In Defence. So I didn't bat an eyelash when, on the day of our interview, Ailes called me up to suggest crashing an anime convention. (Full disclosure: Ailes and I attended Bloomington's Jefferson High School at the same time, though we weren't close.)

Hours later, we're sitting in a suburban hotel bar surrounded by young adults dressed in superhero spandex and brandishing plastic swords. It's possible the boys in Brain Tumors are the closest thing to grownups in the joint -- even though 31-year-old guitarist Patrick Dillon currently looks like a bearded Betty Rubble ready to turn a few tricks in his revealing turquoise dress, which barely clings to his gangly frame.

When not tearing through unruly basement gigs, these class clowns of local punk are upstanding members of society, for the most part. Ailes worked with homeless veterans until recently, while Dillon fixes computers, bassist Joel Gomez teaches "privileged kids" college math and drummer Dan Johnson has a blue-collar warehouse gig. Only rarely do real life and punk-rock puckishness intersect for these gents. Although there was that time Gomez bumped into a girl he was tutoring at a show in his native North Carolina. Did we mention the drunken nudity?

"Apparently, I was blitzed and I yelled at her with my dong hanging out," Gomez divulges. "It was not a good scene."

Full-frontal high jinks aside, the quartet has its you-know-what together, harnessing the fury of its performances on a new self-titled LP, which the band is celebrating with a release show Saturday at the Hexagon. On the album, Brain Tumors' manic adaptation of Japanese hardcore is anchored by Johnson's calculated battering and punctuated by Ailes' searing snarl.

As solid as the recording is, it's the live setting in which these din-stigators truly thrive. Ailes is a natural entertainer who emcees for St. Paul Saints games and acts in indie flicks on the side. His latest film, "Invincible Force" -- in which he starred -- nabbed "Best in Fest" at a film festival in Germany last year. Though he and his bandmates seem to have found success in both punk rock and adulthood, Ailes admits the two don't easily coexist.

"It's like I have this double life," the 28-year-old said. "It's weird staying up till 1 in the morning in a basement with people spilling beer everywhere and running into each other, and then sitting in an office and looking into a homeless person's eyes. You can see some of yourself in everyone, I guess. So, it's scary in a way to be doing this and getting older."

We decide to roam the hotel, which by midnight is like a massive frat party run by guys in wizard hats. For some reason Dillon is like a celebrity in drag with the comic-con crowd, posing for pictures with furries and graciously handling catcalls and insinuating remarks from guys who used to get beat up in high school.

"These are my people," Dillon declares, his curly black wig bouncing as he speaks.

Had he desired, Dillon probably could've had the weirdest sex in the history of sex that night. But that's not something a respectable adult would do.