Party's Over

By CHRISTOPHER JOHN FARLEY

Late last year, Mike D of the white rap trio Beastie Boys published a review of the rock band Soul Asylum that displayed about as much restraint as Jack Nicholson shows to motorists who cut him off in traffic. "White music by white people for white people," Mike D mockingly wrote about the band. "This is why most white people suck."

Of course, musicians should be judged by the music they make, not by their skin color, as Mike D should know better than anyone (he admits later in the article that "I can't defend what I've written here"). The Beasties themselves are Larry Bird-like standouts in a black field. The group's major label debut Licensed to Ill (1986) sold 4 million copies. It was a rowdy, all- night keg party of an album, and it served as both a humorous commentary on the excesses of rap as well as an homage to its spirit.

But, as Mike D's review suggests, the Beasties may have begun to take themselves a little too seriously. Their new record, Ill Communication, which entered the Billboard charts at No. 1, seems overproduced and drained of fun. One well-intentioned song, Bodhisattva Vow, offers lessons on Buddhist thought -- "I try to make my every action for that highest good/ With the altruistic wish to achieve Buddhahood" -- but the underlying music is a snore.

On other tracks, the Beasties branch out from rap. There are several slick, funk-inspired instrumentals (Ricky's Theme, Transitions), and a couple of stale punk-influenced songs (Tough Guy, Heart Attack Man). There's also the hovering sense that there are about a zillion bands on the planet that are better at funk and punk than the Beastie Boys. One of those groups is Soul Asylum.