Hot Hot Heat has more in common with the Boss than you might think. Let’s examine the evidence.

Exhibit A: Small-town bourgeois pride. Bruce Springsteen lives (and will no doubt die) with one hand up New Jersey’s ass. Hot Hot Heat pays homage (both onstage and in singer Steven Bays’ lyrics) to its hometown of Victoria, B.C., a jerkwater Canadian island whose cultural development has been stunted by tourism and a backward provincial government.

Exhibit B: Working hard for the money. Springsteen and HHH have both inked deals with a major label (Columbia and Warner Bros., respectively) but maintained a doggedly blue-collar work ethic, touring relentlessly and adding last-minute shows just for the hell of it.

Exhibit C: Doing it for the fans. OK, this is where things get a little fuzzy. When he’s not charging upward of $80 for nosebleed seats in stadiums the size of Puerto Rico, Springsteen’s doing free (albeit televised) shows for the folks back home. And though a HHH gig doesn’t draw quite the grandstand turnout, Bays and Co. still manage to put a little bump in the everyman’s everyday grind. Take HHH’s recent gig at the wood-paneled, nursery-by-day basement of Philadelphia’s First Unitarian Church, the band’s second City of Brotherly Love stop in three months.

Drummer Paul Hawley kicked off the performance by clanging a cow bell and leading HHH into “Talk To Me, Dance With Me.” As the guitar and bass locked together, Bays lurched forward, prowling the shallow stage and circling his keyboard, working himself and the crowd into a wild frenzy. Getting the audience all hot and bothered wasn’t Bays intention, but that matted hair, those cheekbones and that soaked black T-shirt damn near sent the mercury through the ceiling. Fourth wall? Bays doesn’t know the meaning.

The band tore through the bulk of its catalog (which, at about 15 songs, is disappointingly thin) well shy of midnight. When the quartet released its breakthrough album, Make Up The Breakdown, last October, the record had all the markings of the next trendy, indie-rock paycheck: handsome young men dressed to the nines playing propulsive, danceable songs piggybacking fashionably dated keyboard smashups. It wasn’t original, nor was it particularly mind-blowing, but it makes for one fun stylish-black-slacks-around-the-ankles night on the town.

“Naked In The City Again” and “Oh, Goddamnit” saw the energy level surge in unbridled ecstasy, while the menacing, forlorn “Le Le Low” and “5 Times Out Of 100” (both prime picks from last year’s Knock Knock Knock EP) gave the sweaty fans a moment to collect themselves. The crowd erupted into thunderous applause after minor-radio-hit “Bandages” marked the end of the set. Matter-of-course encore begging ensued, and HHH did ‘em one better upon its return. Temples glistening in sweat, Bays apologed for the band’s “half-speed” performance and promised one helluva finale. “Touch You Touch You” rattled the walls of the claustrophobic venue, climaxing when Dustin Hawthorn dove bass-first into the crowd.

And to think you didn’t come on out for the rising.