WHO'D have thought that a band who began their career as the white-trash novelty rap brats of Fight For Your Right To Party - setting the 1980s tabloids in a flap and causing an international epidemic of stolen VW car badges - would wind up 20 years later as respected elder statesmen of alternative music.

Or that along the way they could embrace peace activism, Buddhism, and organising the Free Tibet concerts in the States, without ever oozing the smug self-importance of Bono or Sting.

It is logical then that the Beastie Boys are the only three 40-year-old white blokes on the planet who can make a rap album and get away with it - partly because they've always relished the ridiculous, partly because their three-way vocal sparring can still cut it, and partly because of the respect they've built up over the intervening years with their innovative, genre-defying records.

Their ever-inventive lyrics, as usual, frequently stumble from the inspired to the puerile, but one look at the lyric sheet with its comic "Editor's Notes" suggests they aren't taking things too seriously.

Musically, they've ditched the live instrumentation, going back to old-school basics with turntables and drum machines. Single Ch-Check It Out is a raucous party of an opener, while elsewhere, George W Bush gets a lyrical roasting.

The other highlight, An Open Letter To NYC, sees them tackle the aftermath of 9/11 in a song of praise to their native city.

Yes, it sags in the middle, and yes, you'd be better off digging out your old copy of Ill Communication or Check Your Head, but the Beastie Boys, when they hit their stride, can still undeniably make more vital, relevant and entertaining music than most rappers and rockers half their age.

Updated: 08:14 Thursday, June 24, 2004