It wasn't always like this, however. Punk originally meant less a formula for playing music than an attitude, an outlook on musicmaking that emphasized uncompromised self-expression. Twenty-five years ago such decidedly non-four chord artists as Pere Ubu and Television were considered punk, not because they hewed closely to what was rapidly being codified as punk style by the Sex Pistols and the Ramones, but because they followed their instincts, never compromising on their creative visions, regardless of the wishes of their record companies or even their audiences. This breed of punk artist is rare today, for to alter the formula often results in fan abandonment, followed by a "triumphant return" to the sound of old and a comfortable but unadventurous living on what's essentially a punk rock oldies circuit.

Not all contemporary punk rockers stay with the tried and true, though. There's a growing movement of artists loosely classified as "punk" who may have started out with the same four chords as everybody else, but quickly realized their ambition and ever-expanding technical skills could not abide being stuck in the orthodox ghetto. They stay angry and keep the energy of the punk while introducing new elements that keep them interested—and interesting. They keep the spirit of punk alive not by limiting themselves to punk orthodoxy, but by embracing the experimentation of such past masters and inspirations as the MC5, the Stooges and the Saints. Bands like the BellRays can satisfy the punk faithful while moving the music forward to the next phase.

Perhaps the most visible band stomping over the boundaries is L.A.'s Streetwalkin' Cheetahs. Always a explosive live act, the band has never quite caught fire in the studio, issuing entertaining but fairly traditional slash 'n' burn studio records like Overdrive that imitated their onstage fire. That's changed, however, with their latest record Waiting For the Death of My Generation, a genuine progression of the band's sound that still stays true to punk's unruly spirit.

A great way to begin the record, "Right to Rock" announces the band's intentions from the get-go, with a classic riff and a masterful update of the clichéd "Yay! Let's rock!" cheerleading song. This and other firebreathers like "Why You Gotta Come First," "Future Lost" and the live favorite "In My Head" channel their live energy into the studio with no translation problems, but without overrunning the obvious craft that's gone into the tunes. Speaking of craft, the band lets their long-buried power pop jones come to the fore on several tunes. "White Collar Money" has Beach Boys harmonies on its coda and a super-catchy chorus about "white collar money in a black market world." "Lookout," another live staple, is almost a love song, and "Automatic," augmented by producer Brian Kehew's candycoated synth licks, is quite simply their hookiest, catchiest tune yet. A well-arranged horn section enhances some of the tracks as well. This isn't to say that there isn't any old school punk on this record. "Petty Little Girl" has speed and bad attitude to spare, and "Mama Train," written by and guest-starring former BellRays axeman Tony Fate, is a powerhouse rocker that threatens to consume everything around it in its righteous fury.

Contrary to their reputation, the Cheetahs are not punk revivalists. They're eager to move forward with the music they love, to expand and embellish the form. That they can do it with songs this finely crafted yet still ass-kicking, and with an album that uses the studio to its fullest advantage while still retaining their renowned live energy, proves that an adventurous band like the Streetwalkin' Cheetahs can help punk rock mature without losing its edge. Michael Toland

For fans of: the Saints' Eternally Yours, Cheap Trick, the BellRays