Alvin Lee has the biggest teeth in the world.

They’re as big as a horse’s. They’re Bigger than Carly Simon’s. When sitting on the couch in his hotel suite, he’s a pretty reasonable guy, brighter than you expect a boogie man to be. But you still get distracted by those teeth, which flash like big pearly piano keys — except when he shuts up to take a toke. Onstage it’s even worse, because all the lights are shining on him, and with the adulatory eyes of the masses on him he can’t help but smile; his choppers pierce the gloom like two dozen headlights. When he really gets into his music, breaking out with an especially, involved solo in “Goin’ Home” or leaping proudly back onstage for the “Sweet Little Sixteen” encore, he forgets himself completely and starts to grind his teeth with such ferocity that he looks like Dr. Sardonicus; it’s a wonder he’s got more than molar stumps at this point.